Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 170: Evolution (Flashback)

Chapter 170: Evolution (Flashback)

The First Evolution—that’s what humans called it.

It marked the beginning of a new era, a brutal transition that followed the arrival of mana in the world.

Though many viewed it as a gift, the truth was far more complex. Mana didn’t just give power—it forced change. And the world, groaning under the weight of that sudden shift, had no choice but to adapt.

Five years after Mana came into the world, the planet began its first evolution.

The evolution wasn’t just about beasts or humans growing stronger. No—it was the planet itself reforming, reshaping itself to survive the influx of raw, magical energy.

Mana allowed life to evolve, and gave humans the power to destroy what once required entire armies to bring down.

A single person in the Advance Rank could level a city in a day. And beasts at that same level? Even worse—they didn’t stop until nothing was left.

Faced with that kind of escalating strength, the Earth responded. It had to evolve, or die.

That first global shift became known as the First Evolution, when the world attempted to balance itself against the monstrous rise of mana-wielders.

Gravity increased.

Mana surged to new, unstable levels.

The crust of the Earth cracked open in some regions, birthing cataclysmic earthquakes as the planet physically expanded, stretching itself to accommodate the new life forming on its surface.

But with that evolution came devastation.

The First Evolution didn’t wait for humanity to recover from the beast apocalypse. It struck while they were still on their knees—still trying to find safe ground after the fall of governments and the rise of the beast tides.

More than 20% of the global population perished in the First Evolution.

Some simply couldn’t withstand the increased gravity—their hearts stopped, their bodies gave out.

Others lived in under-defended cities and towns, which were swiftly overrun by beasts emboldened and empowered by the changing world.

It was a mass genocide.

Not just because of the numbers—though the numbers were staggering—but because humanity, already weakened, couldn’t afford to lose even 1%. Every hand was needed.

Every fighter mattered.

And yet, after the bloodshed came discovery. New resources appeared. Minerals infused with mana. Crystals that could only form under extreme pressure. Forests that pulsed with energy.

And then—

The gods revealed themselves.

It was only moments after the First Evolution that the heavens stirred.

Amid the smoldering cities, bloodied survivors, and howling beasts, the gods revealed themselves.

Until then, they had been little more than myth—echoes in old scriptures and forgotten tongues.

But the apocalypse had drawn them out, and mana made their presence undeniable.

Humanity stood on the back foot, teetering on extinction in a war against magical beasts that evolved faster, struck harder, and bred chaos with every step.

The gods, seeing that the world was slipping beyond mortal control, descended—or rather, manifested—from the veils of higher existence.

Not all at once, not as saviors from the sky, but as forces reclaiming their dominion, choosing sides and planting seeds of legacy to stem the tide of annihilation.

They began to bestow their bloodlines.

Not to the masses.

Not to leaders or kings.

But to those they deemed worthy—individuals or families who embodied something they valued: strength, ambition, sacrifice, wisdom, chaos, or resolve.

The system they followed seemed rigid, but perhaps that was their way of maintaining balance:

Lesser gods were permitted to share their bloodline with multiple families—small pockets of inherited power spread across regions, bolstering communities and helping restore order piece by piece.

Intermediate gods, beings of far greater might and clarity, bound their legacy to a single family—choosing clans that would become pillars of influence, shaping territories and defending borders against the unending beast tide.

Higher gods, entities on the edge of comprehension, granted their bloodline to a single person—one vessel, one bearer of divine will.

From that one entity, the power could spread, but only through birthright or ritual—and the ritual was always diluted, never able to match the purity of the original inheritance.

Even diluted, however, the bloodlines were revolutionary.

They allowed humanity to claw its way back from the brink. They turned individuals into beings of immense power, families into clans, and nations into fortified domains.

And so, from the ashes of the First Evolution, a new hierarchy was born—one where gods walked unseen, but their influence carved through history like lightning through stone.

----

The air in the hall seemed to still as Mona’s voice continued to echo from the projection.

Alex sat in silence, his eyes shifting to Nyxara, who remained standing in front of him—but her posture had changed.

She was no longer relaxed.

Her tail had gone still, her ears slowly angling back—not in aggression, but in unease.

Her eyes were locked onto the flickering image of Mona, wide and unblinking, golden irises brimming with tension.

She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t growled or whimpered, but Alex could feel the shift in her aura.

A bad feeling.

He could see it in the slight tremble of her front paw and the way her claws unconsciously extended, scraping lightly against the metal of the chair.

She didn’t interrupt—not because she didn’t want to—but because she needed to know. Her curiosity had shifted into dread, and still, she listened.

Mona’s voice was calm, unwavering, as if what she was recounting was a matter of duty, not devastation.

"Because humans were still on the back foot in the battle against the magical beasts," Mona said, her image flickering slightly, "the higher gods gave their chosen champions a task—to prove themselves not with politics or protection, but with conquest."

"They were told to eliminate the greatest threats to humanity before those threats could become untouchable.

And during that time... North America was on the edge of collapse. Two apex forces had risen: the Five-Tailed Fox in the north, and the Tiger Clan in the west."

Nyxara’s ears twitched sharply at the name.

"Lucian was tasked with eliminating the greater of the two. The tiger clan was chosen—not because of sheer power, but because of what made them unique... their ability to function as one, to move in perfect coordination. A pack mind among predators."

A low growl escaped Nyxara’s throat—barely audible, more instinctive than deliberate.

She frowned deeply, her gaze darkening, and Alex could feel the weight of her emotions pressing into his soul.

He didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t.

Because deep down... he could tell she already knew what might come next.

She just didn’t want to believe it.

And Mona hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.