Ethan Voss stood frozen in the center of his cramped apartment, the materialized rewards spread across his cluttered desk like treasures from a forgotten myth. The share certificates gleamed under the dim lamp light, their embossed seals from Celestial Fiction Hub exuding an aura of unassailable power. Beside them lay the property deeds for the Apex Pinnacle Towers penthouse—thick, luxurious paper detailing a residence that most citizens of Nova Prime could only dream of in their wildest fantasies. The Vortex Thunderbolt key fob pulsed faintly with embedded tech, a sleek black-and-silver design that screamed exclusivity. And at the heart of it all, the small crystal vial containing the Apex Genome Elixir, its contents swirling in hypnotic patterns of deep azure, catching the light like liquid starlight.
His breath came in shallow bursts, heart pounding with a rhythm that echoed the distant thrum of the megacity outside. Nova Prime never slept, and neither, it seemed, could he in this moment. The weight of it all crashed over him—not just the physical items, but the implications. Five years of grinding in obscurity, transcribing masterpieces while the world spun on without noticing him. Now, in an instant, everything flipped.
"I'm... set. Completely, utterly set," he whispered to the empty room, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up from his chest. It started low, almost manic, then built into full-throated exhilaration. He threw his head back, hands clenching into fists as adrenaline surged. "This is beyond insane. The Supreme Tycoon System doesn't mess around—this gift package is god-tier!"
Pacing the limited floor space—three steps one way, pivot, three back—Ethan's mind raced through the rewards one by one. First, the shares. Celestial Fiction Hub wasn't just a platform; it was the backbone of Auroria's entertainment empire. In this world, web novels were cultural phenomena—serialized stories that gripped millions, spawning adaptations into holographic films, immersive VR experiences, merchandise lines that flooded markets. Authors like his pseudonym "Apex Sovereign" were celebrities, their drops causing traffic spikes across the global net. Market valuation? He'd followed the stocks casually during university; over fifty billion credits, easy. 51% controlling interest meant he wasn't just rich—he was the shadow emperor of an industry.
And the penthouse. Ethan paused at the window again, gazing toward the riverfront district where Apex Pinnacle Towers dominated the skyline. Even from this distance, on the city's outskirts, he could make out their elegant spires—curved glass reflecting the neon haze, private hover-pads on upper levels for the elite's personal vehicles. He'd walked past the complex once during a rare day off, peering through the guarded gates at manicured gardens and cascading waterfalls in the lobby. Residents there lived in a different reality: concierge services anticipating needs via AI, private gyms with gene-therapy recovery pods, views that stretched across the Azure River to the endless urban sprawl. His deed specified the top-floor duplex—1,500 square meters of pure opulence, with a rooftop infinity pool, sky garden blooming with rare imported flora, and panoramic smart-glass walls that could tint or project virtual vistas on command. Value? Half a billion credits, conservatively. And it was his, free and clear.
The Vortex Thunderbolt key fob drew his eye next. He picked it up, feeling its cool weight in his palm. Limited production—fewer than a thousand units worldwide, each handcrafted in elite factories on Auroria's western continent. Acceleration that defied physics: zero to a hundred in under three seconds, top speeds pushing the limits of civilian engineering. Design alone turned heads—aggressive lines, adaptive aerodynamics, interior customized with premium materials. Parked downstairs right now, in the dingy public lot of this rundown complex. The contrast made him chuckle again. God-level driving skills included? He'd never been more than average behind the wheel, but now... races on the coastal highways would be child's play.
God-level culinary mastery. That one seemed almost whimsical amid the grandeur, but Ethan appreciated it deeply. In his previous life on Earth, cooking had been survival—cheap instant meals to fuel writing marathons. Here, with family, he'd learned basics from his mother's home-cooked spreads, but nothing extraordinary. Now? He could rival the master chefs of Nova Prime's five-star establishments, the ones serving fusion dishes to tycoons in floating restaurants over the river.
But the vial—the Apex Genome Elixir—called to him most insistently. He lifted it carefully, holding it to the light. The liquid inside moved with an almost sentient grace, tiny sparks of energy flickering within.
"System," he thought, directing his query inwardly. "What exactly does the Apex Genome Elixir do? Details."
The mechanical voice responded promptly: "The Apex Genome Elixir optimizes the Host's genetic structure to the absolute peak of human potential. Enhancements include: maximized physical strength, endurance, agility, and recovery; perfected sensory acuity; heightened cognitive processing and memory retention; aesthetic refinement to ideal proportions; and complete elimination of latent health defects. The process is painless and permanent."
Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "Any side effects? Risks?"
"None detected. The elixir is engineered for perfect compatibility with the Host's biology. Transformation occurs during a restorative sleep cycle."
No downsides. Perfect. In a world like Auroria, where gene therapies were the domain of the ultra-wealthy—clinics charging millions for fractional improvements—this was revolutionary. Peak human? Legends in sports, military, even entertainment often rumored such enhancements, but nothing this comprehensive.
Decision made in a heartbeat. Ethan uncapped the vial, the seal breaking with a soft hiss. A faint, invigorating scent wafted out—crisp like mountain air mixed with subtle floral notes. He tilted it back, the cool liquid sliding down his throat effortlessly, tasting faintly of pure vitality.
Almost immediately, a wave of profound drowsiness crashed over him. His vision blurred at the edges, limbs growing heavy as if gravity itself intensified. "Whoa... that's fast," he muttered, stumbling toward his bed. The room spun gently, not unpleasantly—like sinking into the warmest embrace. He collapsed onto the mattress, clothes still on, and darkness claimed him instantly.
...
Hours later—or perhaps longer; time felt elastic in the void—consciousness returned gradually. Ethan stirred, a deep hunger gnawing at his core, sharper than any he'd known. His eyes fluttered open to the familiar ceiling, but something felt profoundly different. The mattress beneath him seemed... softer? No—his body registered sensations more acutely. The faint hum of the city outside was crystal clear, individual vehicle engines distinguishable, conversations from passersby below filtering up as if he stood among them.
He sat up slowly, and that's when the discrepancies hit. His perspective was higher—the desk across the room appeared lower. Clothes that had fit snugly now strained in places, loose in others. A glance down: his once-slight paunch, earned from sedentary writing years, had vanished entirely. Instead, the fabric of his shirt stretched over defined contours.
"What the...?" Ethan bolted to the bathroom mirror, flicking on the harsh fluorescent light.
The reflection staring back was him—and yet not. Height had increased noticeably—five centimeters, pushing him to 1.83 meters. But it was the proportions that stole his breath. His face, already handsome in a boyish way during university (earning him quiet admirers), now chiseled to masculine perfection: jawline sharp as a blade, cheekbones high and defined, eyes deeper set with an piercing intensity that commanded attention. Lips fuller, nose refined, skin flawless—poreless, glowing with vitality. Hair thicker, darker, falling in effortless waves.
He lifted his shirt, and awe deepened. Abs etched like an eight-pack sculpture, each muscle group balanced perfectly. Pecs firm, shoulders broadened, arms veined with power yet elegant. The "mermaid lines" dipping toward his waist were textbook ideal, back muscles rippling as he twisted. Legs powerful, calves defined. Every inch screamed peak athleticism—the body of a god among men, forged for both strength and aesthetics.
Flexing experimentally, power surged through him—endless, controlled. He punched the air lightly; the whoosh carried force that could shatter barriers. Senses amplified: he could hear his heartbeat steady and strong, smell the faint residue of last night's takeout from the kitchen, see individual dust motes dancing in the light beams.
Old myopia? Gone—vision razor-sharp without glasses. Mind clearer, thoughts flowing with unprecedented speed. Memories from both lives vivid, accessible like files in a perfect database.
"This... this is perfection," Ethan breathed, a grin spreading wide. He laughed again, deeper this time, resonant with newfound confidence. The elixir hadn't just optimized; it had elevated him to the apex of humanity.
Hunger intensified, a roaring demand. But first—the skills.
"System, integrate god-level driving mastery and god-level culinary mastery."
"Affirmative. Fusing now."
A torrent of information flooded his brain—not overwhelming, but seamless. Muscle memories implanted: precise steering instincts for high-speed maneuvers, intuitive understanding of vehicle dynamics, defensive techniques for any scenario. Culinary: thousands of recipes across Auroria's diverse cuisines, knife skills flawless, flavor balancing instinctive, presentation artistic. He knew, without doubt, he could now craft dishes rivaling the elite chefs of Nova Prime's Michelin-equivalent establishments.
Kitchen time. The small space, once a necessity corner, now felt like a canvas. Stocked with basics from recent shopping—eggs, fresh vegetables from local markets, proteins in the fridge, spices in cabinets. Ethan moved with fluid grace, ingredients assembling under expert hands.
Knives flashed—onions diced uniformly in seconds, garlic minced to perfection. Pans heated precisely on the induction stove. Aromas exploded: sizzling butter infused with herbs, eggs whisked to fluffy peaks, vegetables sautéed with exact timing for crisp-tender texture. A simple omelet elevated to gourmet—layered with cheeses melted just right, topped with fresh herbs and a reduction sauce whipped up on the fly. Side of perfectly seared protein strips, seasoned with a blend he'd intuitively created.
Plated elegantly despite limited dishware, he sat and took the first bite.
Explosion. Layers of flavor danced—umami depths, bright acidity, subtle heat, creamy richness. Better than any restaurant memory from either life. He devoured it ravenously, satisfaction blooming deep in his core.
As he finished, his phone buzzed on the desk—an alert from Imperial Vault Bank. Screen lit: massive deposit notification. Balance update: 500,000,000 credits transferred. Total now exceeding half a billion.
"System?" he queried, though suspicion dawned.
"Accumulated royalties and rewards from your twenty published masterpieces, unfrozen upon novice task completion. Electronic subscriptions dominate in Auroria's piracy-free ecosystem, but future income streams include adaptations, merchandise, and global licensing—potentially trillions long-term."
Ethan leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Half a billion liquid, just the start. Shares worth billions more. Property, vehicle, body, skills—all his.
The pinnacle wasn't a distant dream. It was reality.
And this was only the beginning.
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