A renowned evolutionary theorist once said:
In nature, most animals openly display their reproductive organs to attract mates. But in sentient species, the opposite is true. The first emotion they develop is shame—an instinct to cover themselves before the opposite sex.
At first glance, it sounded absurd.
The very first thing a sentient species does… is put on underwear?
Covering one's genitals offers no evolutionary advantage. On the contrary, it suppresses reproductive urges and hinders population growth.
According to the laws of natural selection, any species that resists reproduction should be weeded out.
Yet intelligence was a strange anomaly. It produced countless exceptions that defied the logic of survival—like the human race.
Felix understood this unpredictability all too well. That was why he had stopped accelerating the Tyranis' evolution by ten thousand times. Sentience could not emerge under such violent, artificial conditions.
He wanted something real. Something gradual.
He hoped that if he waited long enough, true intelligence would appear on its own—forge civilization, rewrite rules, and give birth to unexpected brilliance.
And now, it had.
"Shame is the first sign of sentience. I did it," Felix murmured, peering through his binoculars.
Below him, the Bugapes were awkwardly tying strips of grass around their waists—just enough to cover their privates. It was crude. Inefficient. But meaningful.
Felix grinned. "Not long ago, they were still yelling 'Baldy! Baldy!' at me. Now look at them… language, culture, civilization. Much less annoying. Not bad."
But they were dying.
Hopelessly outmatched.
Even though Felix had selected the best genetic foundation for them, evolving the Bugapes had taken two full days of trial and error. In the Sandbox, that translated to twenty thousand years.
By the time the Bugapes returned, the world had already moved on without them.
Their ancient genes couldn't keep up. They lacked the tools, instincts, and biological upgrades needed to survive in a world that had evolved far beyond them.
Only the rich ecosystem of the great canyon Felix had chosen kept them alive this long.
He lowered the binoculars and sighed.
"Maybe… maybe I interfered too early. This species wasn't meant to appear yet."
In real history, humans emerged long after the extinction of the dinosaurs. By then, the world was safer. The largest predators were reduced to big cats. Humanity had time—to make fire, to craft tools, to think.
But in the Sandbox, this was still the Jurassic.
Ten-meter-tall monsters roamed freely. Survival was brutal. The Bugapes had no time to evolve. No time to grow wise.
Intelligence required knowledge. And knowledge required generations.
The Bugapes didn't have generations.
"I can't just sit back and watch them go extinct."
With quiet resolve, Felix turned away, entered his room, and opened his laptop. He connected to Wi-Fi, logged into Taobao, and began placing orders.
"Looks like I'll have to be the one to give them fire," he muttered. "Civilization needs a spark."
He snapped the laptop shut.
"I chose express shipping. It should arrive in about a day and a half. If they can't survive that long…" He shrugged. "Then maybe they weren't meant to."
That afternoon, he rode his bicycle through the countryside. The sun was warm. The air was fresh. He greeted villagers, exchanged smiles—and ran into Ellie.
She was just as talkative as ever. The girl chatted endlessly, and Felix didn't mind. Her company was pleasant, though her true goal was painfully obvious. She watched him with a detective's gaze, probing with every question.
Was he really Felix? Had something changed?
She even asked to visit his home.
Naturally, he refused.
God forbid she wandered into the Sandbox and wiped out an entire species by accident.
Would he cry?
Probably.
The next morning, after a light jog and a quick shower, Felix returned to find two packages waiting at his door.
Right on time.
The first was a miniature potted juniper tree.
The second was a custom-made item from Taobao—a sword. Exquisitely forged, no bigger than a toothpick, crafted from high-grade alloys and engraved with elegant patterns. It gleamed like a relic from a forgotten age.
A day and a half had passed in the real world.
In the Sandbox, that was one hundred and fifty years.
And the Bugapes were on the brink.
Their population had dwindled to almost nothing. They were clawing at extinction with bloodied hands.
Felix stepped outside into the courtyard.
"Stop acceleration. Return time flow to normal."
In the southern reaches of Mesopotamia, the Bugapes clung to life.
They lived in a vast valley rich with fruit trees and edible plants. Nearby, the Tigris River teemed with fish. For a time, their courage and crude tools had been enough.
Now, it wasn't.
The village lay in ruins. Corpses carpeted the ground. Thatched huts had been smashed apart.
"Run! Run! The Arrah are coming!"
Bugape warriors with thick black hair and hardened, armored joints stood their ground. Their bodies resembled upright apes clad in bone armor.
Their enemies were swift and merciless—black-scaled raptors with razor talons.
Wielding crude clubs carved from horned beasts, the warriors charged, shouting for the women and children to flee.
"We must survive!"
The women did not scream. They did not cry. They ran with blank expressions, driven by instinct rather than hope.
It was a massacre.
Bugape warriors were torn apart. Blood soaked the earth. The air stank of fear and iron.
Felix watched from above, his expression solemn.
Beside him, the Hive Mind spoke calmly:
"The Tyranis are prolific. Most species exist only as cannon fodder… unless they ascend."
"Ascend?" Felix raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"To break free of the cycle. To awaken."
The Hive Mind continued evenly.
"Among the billions of Tyranis seeded across the galaxy, a rare few unlock their genetic restraints. These become Tyranis Heroes—beings capable of reshaping their bodies, rewriting their genes, and evolving by will rather than chance. They rise above the masses and lead their kind to greatness."
Felix nodded slowly.
Of course. The Hive Mother couldn't shoulder an entire race alone. Civilization required leaders—Heroes to bear the burden.
Passive evolution was cruel. It demanded countless deaths. The Bluemoon Grass, for instance, only survived by outlasting millions of other plants before it learned to absorb moonlight.
But heroes…
They shaped their own fate.
"Do you think one of the Bugapes could become a hero?" Felix asked with a faint laugh. "A Bugape Hero?"
The Hive Mind paused.
"It is possible. After assimilating monkey DNA, their genetic structure shifted. They now possess both instinct and potential. A rare combination."
Felix smiled.
"Good. Then let's see what they can do."
He stepped forward.
Boom.
Boom.
The ground shook.
In the primeval forest, beasts fled in terror. Trees collapsed. Rivers reversed course. Mountains crumbled beneath the footsteps of a god.
Those too slow to escape were crushed into pulp—shapeless heaps of flesh.
Felix stepped again.
Another forest vanished.
The Arrah, still feasting on Bugape corpses, had no time to react before a shadow swallowed them whole. Their world ended beneath a single footfall.
Felix marched onward.
Toward the survivors.
Toward the future.
"Oh my god!" a Bugape screamed, eyes wide with terror.
"What is that thing?! It's… it's a thousand times bigger than the great beast Fenba!"
"It crushed the Arrah like ants! We can't even see its head—it pierces the clouds!"
They dropped to their knees, trembling.
From below, Felix looked like a moving continent. A titan beyond comprehension. A god made flesh.
He gazed down at these trembling, grass-clad creatures and wondered:
What do they see when they look at me?
They were so small—smaller than a centimeter of his boot.
And yet, in their eyes, he was divine.
Felix said nothing.
After all—
What god answers the cries of ants?