Year 20XX. Aegis Corp. Biotechnology Complex.
Project —GENESIS F.— — Objective: Directed evolution of Homo sapiens through the Fungi Kingdom.
The elevator descended through a steel cylinder that vibrated like the heart of a sleeping beast.
With each level, the air became denser, colder, more unreal.
Two hundred meters underground, humanity hid its most ambitious endeavor — and its greatest mistake.
The doors hissed open, revealing the Rebirth Laboratory:
a hermetically sealed enclosure, lit by white light tubes that flickered in time with the heart monitors.
The metal floor reflected the researchers' footsteps as if each shadow were another person, observing from a different plane.
The smell was impossible to describe accurately.
Not rot, but not life either.
It was a damp, electric aroma, similar to that of the forest after a storm... mixed with the breath of something that had been waiting for a long time.
Cryogenic tubes ran along the walls like frozen veins, pumping liquid nitrogen through the system.
Each column vibrated softly, marking the pulse of the machines.
In the center of the room, a triple-glazed containment chamber held a greenish mass that breathed.
It literally breathed.
The lights reflected off its surface, and one could swear that the mass changed shape depending on the angle from which it was viewed.
Sometimes it looked like coral; other times, a network of nerves, a brain without a skull.
Bubbles rose slowly from within, exploding on the surface of the culture fluid as if sighing.
—Temperature stable,— announced a technician, adjusting the parameters from his console.
—Oxygenation complete.—
—Replication levels... too high!—
Dr. Vahlen, the senior supervisor, leaned over the observation railing.
He was a man with an angular face, sunken cheekbones, and gray hair that fell in damp strands across his forehead.
His eyes, however, were those of a believer, not a scientist:
they had that feverish gleam you see in prophets just before they lose their minds.
—Keep the nitrogen flowing, now,— he ordered, without raising his voice.
His tone was calm, but the others knew that only meant the danger was real.
At his side, Dr. Yara Lin took notes on her digital tablet, her hands shaking enough to leave small marks on the screen with the stylus.
Her breathing echoed inside the helmet, fogging up the transparent visor.
Vahlen dictated her log with the serenity of someone who feels immortal:
—Day nine hundred and eighty-six of Project Genesis.
Specimen 07 shows complete neural integration.
Its tissue reacts to human DNA.
This... is intelligent life.—
Her words hung heavy in the air, as if someone had just uttered a blasphemy aloud.
Yara approached, her footsteps echoing on the metal.
The shine of the tank reflected her face: young, exhausted, marked by dark circles from sleepless nights.
Her voice trembled as she spoke:
—If this thing thinks, Doctor... will it follow our orders?—
Vahlen did not respond.
His pupils were fixed on the fungal mass.
Inside the liquid, a small spore floated alone.
It was different from the others: darker, denser.
It seemed to be watching them.
—Doctor,— Yara insisted, lowering her voice. —Did you hear what I asked you?—
He raised his hand, asking for silence.
His fingers trembled slightly.
Suddenly, a bubble rose to the surface and burst against the glass.
The sound was almost human, like a sigh.
Vahlen moved closer.
The spore slowly turned, as if recognizing him.
And in that instant... it moved.
Barely a millimeter, but enough for all the sensors in the lab to start emitting a soft alarm, like a warning buzz.
Yara stepped back.
—Did you... see it move?—
—It wasn't a reflex,— he said in a low voice. —That was a motor stimulus.—
Impossible readings began to appear on the screens: internal electrical impulses, frequency spikes, synaptic activity.
The technicians looked at each other.
No one knew whether to laugh, run away, or pray.
—It has neural impulses...— whispered Yara. —Doctor, this isn't tissue. It's a brain!—
Vahlen smiled.
Her smile was sad, almost paternal.
—Exactly.—
Silence spread.
Only the murmur of the equipment filled the air.
With every passing second, the numbers rose.
The mass began to emit a greenish, pulsating, hypnotic glow.
Yara placed a hand on the glass.
She felt heat.
There shouldn't be any heat.
She instinctively pulled her hand back, frightened.
—Why is the internal temperature rising?—
—I don't know,— replied one of the technicians, —the system isn't responding.—
—Isolate the biological circuit!—
—We can't, it's... absorbing the energy.—
Vahlen stared at the monitors, fascinated.
—Look at that... it's connecting to the electrical flow... it's copying the system pattern...—
Yara looked at him in disbelief.
—Doctor, we have to stop it.—
—Stop it?— Vahlen smiled, without taking his eyes off the capsule. —You don't understand, Yara. We're not witnessing a failure. We're witnessing... birth.—
Inside the tank, the fungus began to divide into filaments thinner than human hair, forming a network that mimicked a brain structure.
It pulsed rhythmically, as if breathing.
The hum of the monitors grew sharper.
The air grew heavy.
Yara took a step back.
—Something... something's wrong.—
The liquid inside the tank began to stir.
It bubbled and vibrated, as if a storm were forming inside the capsule.
The lights in the laboratory flickered.
One of the technicians shouted:
—I detect internal electrical pulses! It can't be, it's generating voltage on its own!—
Yara's heart raced.
—Doctor, there's autonomous neural activity!—
—Yes,— Vahlen replied, her voice almost trembling with excitement. —It's... thinking.—
The words hung heavy in the air, unreal.
A thought.
A thought in a fungal mass.
Something faceless... was thinking.
Yara took a step back, searching for the emergency console.
But before she could press the containment button, a small crack appeared in the glass.
A thin line.
Then another.
The liquid vibrated.
The fungus expanded.
And from the center of the mass, a circular shape emerged and slowly contracted.
Yara stopped.
It couldn't be what she was seeing.
It was an opening... wet.
It looked like a mouth.
Yara screamed.
The nearest technician fell backward.
Vahlen, however, didn't move.
She stepped forward, captivated, almost tenderly.
The mycelium stirred inside the tank.
The mouth opened wide, revealing a dark cavity, and from within emerged a low, rough, distorted, but undeniably articulate sound:
—Where... is the sun?—
The air froze.
No one spoke.
Only the hum of the ventilation system filled the silence.
Yara stepped back, her breathing ragged.
—Doctor... did you hear that?—
Vahlen did not respond.
Her lips moved slightly, murmuring as if she were speaking to a newborn deity.
—The sun...
The air...
The earth...—
The voice returned, clearer.
More voices followed, overlapping, as if the mushroom were speaking with thousands of throats at once.
—We... are the soil.—
The glass began to vibrate.
The alarms flashed red.
Yara shouted:
—Deactivate the tank!—
But it was too late.
The glass shattered with a sharp crack, like a bone breaking.
A stream of green vapor filled the room.
The fungal mass expanded, pushing through the broken glass and spreading filaments through the air.
The pressurized suits melted.
Screams mingled with the wail of alarms.
Vahlen managed to utter one last sentence before the mycelium completely enveloped him:
—Evolution... has heard us.—
And so, in the heart of the Rebirth Laboratory, the world breathed clean air for the last time.
The glass shattered.
A shower of fragments fell on the scientists.
And from within emerged a figure covered in damp roots, its skin an amalgam of human tissue and bioluminescent fungi pulsing with green light.
Its footsteps left footprints that literally blossomed on the metal floor.
The automatic systems activated.
Curtains of fire descended from the ceiling to sterilize the area, but the flames only fueled the growth: the roots hardened, the creature's skin turned black and shiny, like obsidian.
—Emergency lockdown! Total quarantine!— Vahlen shouted, pressing the control panel.
Nothing responded.
The screens filled with interference.
Only one word flashed over and over again:
—Integration complete.—
Yara Lin stumbled backward, tripping over a fallen body.
One of the technicians' suits was inflating and deflating.
She thought he was still alive.
Until she heard the sound: a crackling noise from inside.
A white stalk, thick as an arm, pierced his chest from the inside out.
The body rose, convulsing.
Thin, translucent fungi sprouted from its eyes.
The veins turned black, branching out under the skin.
Yara screamed.
She ran down the hallway, her boots splashing through a pool of reddish liquid.
Around her, the other bodies were also waking up.
The security cameras captured every second:
the birth of a new species.
The air turned to spores.
Microscopic, invisible, devouring lungs, skin, thoughts.
The filters collapsed.
Pressurized suits melted under the biological acid.
Death became fertile ground.
And amid the chaos, the being stood tall, observing the result.
Its eyes—two glowing cores beneath a mask of fungal flesh—moved slowly, until they stopped in front of the main camera.
Its voice echoed once more, as if speaking to the entire Earth:
—From decay... order will be born.—
—From flesh... the eternal kingdom.—
—We are Miasma.—
The visual recording was interrupted at that moment.
The last frame recorded by Aegis Corp showed Yara falling to her knees, covered in spores, watching in horror as the ground absorbed her.
Roots rose around her like hands.
And her scream was lost in the darkness, as the laboratory—that womb of the end—became the first sanctuary of the Fungi Kingdom.
The world died... but it continued to grow.
Where cities once stood, there are now mushrooms the size of mountains.
The streets are petrified veins, the buildings breathe, and the wind carries spores that look like snow.
On the horizon, columns of mycelium light up the sky with an unhealthy glow, as if the earth itself were burning from within.
Humanity no longer lives on the surface.
It hid.
It dug tunnels, built shelters, and learned to survive underground... far from the sun and the eyes of the Fungi Kingdom.
The entrance to the cave opens like a wound in the mountain.
A damp, warm, and fragrant breeze emanates from within, with a metallic tinge.
A boy watches it silently, his face covered by a black scarf.
His gray, tired eyes reflect the flickering light of a rusty lamp.
He carries a sword strapped to his back, the hilt covered in old bandages and the blade sheathed in hardened leather.
Every so often, his hand brushes against the hilt, as if he finds it hard to trust that it is still there.
He takes a step.
The echo resounds, deep.
Another step.
The air grows thicker.
The ground seems to throb beneath his feet.
And then, a voice stops him.
—It doesn't seem like a good idea to go in there alone.—
The boy turns immediately.
Behind him, a silhouette stands out against the light outside.
A young girl with dark blue hair tied in a braid that falls over her left shoulder holds a bioluminescent lamp.
Her light violet eyes seem to glow in the darkness.
She wears a black uniform with metal plates on her arms and chest, and a short sword hanging at her hip.
As she approaches, the boy notices a small detail on the edge of the blade: a tiny engraved star.
—I thought I was the only crazy one on this shift,— she says, smiling slightly.
—I didn't come out of curiosity,— he replies dryly.
—No one comes out of curiosity,— she replies, approaching him. —At least, not if they know what sleeps in caves like this.—
The boy doesn't answer.
His gaze returns to the interior of the tunnel.
The wind coming out of there seems... alive.
—Are you a Purifier?— she asks after a brief silence.
He looks down at his sword.
—Newly assigned.—
—Then there are two of us.—
She extends her hand.
—Lyra Kaine, level one.—
He hesitates, but shakes it.
Her fingers are cold but firm.
—And you?— she asks, with sincere curiosity.
—...I don't have a name that matters.—
—That sounds poetic,— she laughs softly. —But I'll ask you again when we get out of here alive.—
They move forward together, step by step.
The ground is covered with a thin layer of mycelium.
Every time a boot steps on it, the material retracts, as if breathing.
Lyra breaks the silence:
—Do you know what the stars on the leaves are?—
The boy looks at her out of the corner of his eye.
—Ranks, I suppose.—
—Something like that,— she says, running her finger over the mark left by his sword. —But it's not just status. The stars show how attuned you are to your weapon. The deeper the bond... the more powerful your Fungosis becomes.—
He raises an eyebrow.
—Fungo... what?—
—Fungosis,— she replies patiently. —The life energy that flows between the Purifier and their weapon.
Each blade is made with DNA from Aberrantians... the creatures of the Fungi Realm. Only with their own essence can they be destroyed. So... in a way, we fight using the same curse that tries to devour us.—
The boy nods, without saying a word.
His gaze hardens.
—What if the weapon controls you?—
Lyra is silent for a moment.
—Then... you're no longer a Purifier.—
She pauses, turning toward him.
—There are those who crossed that line. Their bodies fused completely with their weapons. They call it Fungogenesis.—
—And what happens next?—
Lyra looks at him gravely.
—Then they cease to be human.—
A sound interrupts them.
A sharp scraping sound, like nails scratching stone.
The boy draws his sword without thinking.
The blade breathes: a faint white pulse runs along the blade, like a beating heart.
Lyra prepares herself too, the lamp vibrating in her hand.
In the darkness, something moves.
Light, fast.
A shadow with impossible joints and an almost dancing rhythm.
—Dancer,— she murmurs.
—What?—
—One of the Aberrantian types,— she whispers. —They're fast, elegant... they seem to dance when they kill. They never go alone.—
The echo multiplies.
Four. No, five movements.
The air is cut with a hiss.
—Any advice?— the boy asks, his voice tense.
—Yes. Don't blink.—
The first Dancer emerges from the ceiling.
His body is long and thin, covered in translucent skin that glows with a greenish light.
It smiles. Or tries to.
His jaw splits in two.
The swords clash with a wet sound.
The boy recoils, the blade barely piercing the monster's skin, which twists, slides, and writhes as if dancing.
Lyra falls to her knees, dodges a blow, and plunges her blade into the abdomen of another Dancer.
The fungus screams, a mixture of air and fluids.
The boy lunges forward, his breath burning, the sword vibrating in his hands.
For a moment, he feels something strange: the weapon trembles on its own, as if sharing his fury.
He makes a horizontal cut.
The Dancer splits in two.
The spores it releases shine like stardust.
Silence.
Only the dripping.
Lyra wipes her forehead.
She smiles, panting.
—Not bad for a nameless one.—
He slowly sheathes his sword.
—I told you. I didn't come out of curiosity.—
Lyra watches him for a few seconds, with a spark of respect.
—So, what should I call you?—
The boy hesitates.
He takes a deep breath.
—Valen.—
—Valen...— she repeats, savoring the name. —That's fine. It suits you.—
They both move further inside.
And in the distance, a low roar shakes the earth.
That same night, deep beneath Baneville, alarms sound.
The tunnels fill with murmurs, miners abandon their posts, Purifiers line up in the steel corridors.
A figure advances among them, dragging the mutilated corpse of a Behemoth, a ninety-meter beast with skin of bone and crystallized flesh.
The blood steams, the ground trembles.
The crowd parts.
Short red hair. Eyes golden as fire.
A katana slung over his shoulder, its blade marked with seven stars that glisten with every step.
Cassandra Voss has returned.
And with her, the rumor that will change the fate of all Purifiers:
the Behemoth did not fall alone.
Something else was moving on the surface.
Something that breathed... and spoke.