A prominent foreign expert in evolutionary theory once said:
> "In the animal kingdom, most species proudly display their reproductive organs to attract mates. But for intelligent life, the reverse is true. The first emotion sentient beings experience is shame—and so, the first thing they do is cover themselves."
The statement sounded absurd at first.
The moment a species gains self-awareness, it invents underwear... out of shame?
Covering reproductive organs doesn't offer any evolutionary advantage. In fact, it works against reproduction—it suppresses sexual impulses and hinders a species' ability to multiply.
According to basic evolutionary principles, any species that hesitates to reproduce should've been weeded out by natural selection long ago.
But intelligence throws a wrench in those rules. Sentient life doesn't always play by Darwin's book.
Just look at humans.
This unpredictability was exactly why Ethan had stopped accelerating the Tyranis' evolution by 10,000x. Intelligent life needed to develop under natural conditions. Artificial speed would only break the process.
He hoped that with patience, a sentient species would emerge on its own. One that could build a civilization, surprise him, and reveal new possibilities.
"Shame is the first sign of sentience. It's working." Ethan smiled, peering through his binoculars.
Down in the sandbox, the Bugapes had begun covering themselves with crude wraps made of grass—just enough to hide their private parts.
"Back when all they could shout was 'Baldy! Baldy!' I wanted to squash them. But now they're finally learning language. Building culture. They're not so annoying anymore."
But it wouldn't last. They were on the brink of extinction.
Even though Ethan had chosen the best genetic template and spent two days fine-tuning their evolution, the Bugapes were still drastically outmatched. In sandbox time, twenty thousand years had passed. The world had moved on without them.
They were relics of a forgotten age—too weak, too outdated.
Without the resource-rich canyon Ethan had placed them in, they would've already been wiped out.
He lowered his binoculars with a frown.
"Maybe I interfered too early," he muttered. "Humans evolved slowly, in safe environments. The largest predators were lions and saber-toothed cats. That gave us time—time to build tools, craft fire, and fight back."
But the sandbox was stuck in a violent, prehistoric nightmare.
Terrifying dinosaurs—some over ten meters tall—roamed freely. The Bugapes barely had time to survive, let alone evolve. Civilization took generations. Knowledge had to be passed down. Intelligence wasn't enough on its own.
"I can't let this continue. They'll be wiped out before they can even get started."
Ethan walked back to his room, chuckling under his breath. He booted up his laptop, connected to the countryside's shaky Wi-Fi, and logged onto Taobao.
"If they can't light the spark of civilization themselves... I'll give it to them."
He placed his order.
Expedited air shipping. Even in the countryside, it would arrive within a day and a half.
"If they can't survive that long... maybe they don't deserve to."
That afternoon, Ethan took a leisurely bike ride through the village. The sun was bright, the air crisp. He waved at neighbors, shared a few laughs, and—by chance—ran into Mia.
She was exactly as he remembered. Talkative, nosy, and sharp-eyed. She chatted endlessly while studying him like a detective, her eyes flicking over every detail. She even asked to visit his house—which he, of course, declined.
God forbid she finds the sandbox and wipes out a civilization with her flip-flop.
He could already picture himself crying like a toddler over a species she accidentally crushed.
---
The next morning.
Ethan returned from his jog, still a little sweaty.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw two packages waiting on the table.
Right on time.
The first was a tiny potted juniper tree—compact, yet full of character.
The second held a custom-made miniature sword, no larger than a toothpick. It was forged from real metal alloy and carved with intricate designs, elegant despite its size.
By now, the Bugapes had endured a day and a half—over 150 years in their world. Their numbers were dwindling. They were down to their last survivors.
"Time to step in."
He stepped out into the courtyard and issued a mental command:
"Reset time acceleration. Return to normal flow."
---
The southern sandbox valley—Mesopotamia—was lush with resources. Towering forests, fruit-bearing trees, and rivers brimming with fish surrounded it. This abundance had kept the Bugapes alive up until now.
But barely.
Their shelters were in ruins. Corpses littered the ground.
Near the remnants of a hut, Bugape bodies lay motionless. The survivors were retreating in panic.
"Run! This place isn't safe! The Arrah are coming!"
At the center of the chaos stood black-haired humanoids—Bugapes, their bodies jointed with tough, armored skin. They walked upright, resembling apes in makeshift armor.
Their attackers were lean, lightning-fast beasts with raptor-like bodies and narrow snouts full of teeth.
The Bugape warriors screamed in a crude, guttural tongue, urging the women and children behind them to flee. They rushed forward with nothing but primitive clubs made from the horns of unknown beasts.
"We have to survive!"
The women's faces were blank, their movements mechanical. They ran not with hope, but with habit.
The warriors fought ferociously—but they were torn apart. Their blood soaked the earth. One by one, they became meat for the raptors.
Fear clung to the air like smoke.
Ethan watched from above and sighed.
The Hive Mind, ever emotionless, chimed in beside him.
"Tyranis are a prolific species. These creatures are cannon fodder... unless they ascend."
"Ascend? What does that mean?" Ethan asked.
"To break free of their fate," the Hive Mind replied.
"Tyranis heroes don't evolve passively. They consciously reshape their genes. Among the billions born on a spore-seeded world, a rare few break their genetic locks and become leaders. These heroes lead the rest into higher evolution."
Ethan nodded slowly.
It made sense. The Hive Mother couldn't manage an entire race alone. Heroes were necessary—genetic elites born to guide the species forward.
During the Dark Age, evolution came at a brutal cost. Countless species had died before one plant—Blue Moon Grass—learned to absorb moonlight. That was passive evolution.
But Tyranis heroes?
They didn't wait around. They took control.
"Do you think one of the Bugapes I made could become a hero?" Ethan asked. "A Bugape Hero?"
"It's possible," the Hive Mind said.
"They've merged with unique genes. Their monkey ancestry has taken an odd turn. They've developed strangely. There's potential."
"Good," Ethan said, smiling. He turned and walked forward.
---
BOOM. BOOM.
The earth trembled beneath him.
In the ancient jungle, animals scattered. Birds vanished into the canopy. Beasts stampeded in all directions. Rivers changed course. Mountains trembled.
Those too slow to flee were crushed beneath a single descending boot.
Chunks of flesh and shattered bones were all that remained.
"If you get crushed beneath my heel... that's just natural selection."
Ethan took another step.
Entire forests collapsed.
The Arrah—who'd just been feasting on Bugape corpses—didn't even have time to react. They were flattened underfoot, snuffed out like ants.
He was closing in on the Bugapes.
They turned their heads—and froze.
"What is that!?"
"It's enormous! Bigger than Fenba, the mountain god!"
"You can't even see its head—it's in the clouds! That thing's a giant! A real titan!"
The Bugapes dropped to their knees and screamed. They couldn't comprehend it. The sky itself seemed to wear a face.
Ethan said nothing.
He could understand their crude language, thanks to the Hive Mind.
But what were they thinking, these tiny beings, as they looked up?
They weren't even the size of his shoelace.
He couldn't imagine the shock of seeing a creature that stood over ten thousand feet tall—his head lost in the heavens.
To them...
He wasn't a man.
He was a god.