It hurt. That was the first thing Ren knew. Not the soreness after a workout, but a deep, raw pain—like his whole body was being squeezed into something way too small.
He opened his eyes. Everything was green and brown. Huge grass blades towered over him like trees. His stomach felt empty and burning at the same time. His heart was pounding so hard he thought his ribs might snap.
He tried to yell. All that came out was a tiny, pathetic squeak.
What the hell?
He looked down. Five tiny greenish‑brown toes… on a claw. A lizard claw. His arm was a skinny, scaly twig. He was lying in a pile of dried leaves and… something else. Eggshells. Broken eggshells all around him.
Then he saw the others. About a dozen little lizards, no bigger than his thumb, were crawling all over each other, biting and shoving. A feeling older than thought washed over him.
Survive.
His old life—a cramped apartment, a boring IT job, the screech of tires and then nothing—felt like a dream he barely remembered. This here was real.
A huge shadow fell over the nest. A lizard the size of a big house cat, with brown spotted scales and a cold, lazy eye, lowered its head. It sniffed the pile of babies. Then it opened its mouth.
It wasn't going to feed them. It was going to eat them. It grabbed three of his brothers and sisters at once and crunched them like popcorn. The others scattered. Ren's body moved before his brain could catch up.
He ran.
[Gene Upgrade Panel Activated.]
[New Host Detected. Synchronizing…]
[Name: Ren]
[Species: Forest Lizard (Juvenile). Required 20 Gene Points to become adult-sized Forest Lizard.]
[Total Available Gene Points: 0]
A weird screen popped up in the corner of his eye. He ignored it. A giant tongue shot out and grabbed another sibling just inches from his tail. Ren dove into a crack in the dirt—too small for the big lizard to follow.
He curled up there, shaking, as the crunching and hissing slowly faded.
I'm a lizard. A tiny, snack‑sized lizard. And I've got a video game menu in my head. Great.
He ran for over twenty minutes, staying close to the edges of things, squeezing through gaps where bigger hunters couldn't follow. His tiny heart was racing. Every shadow made him jump. Every rustle sent him scrambling for cover. But bit by bit, he put distance between himself and that nest where most of his siblings had already become food.
When he finally stopped under a mossy root, he let himself breathe. That's when he saw it.
A big black beetle.
For some reason, his lizard eyes saw it as a fat, juicy meal. His human brain knew it was just a bug. But his new reptile instincts made it look delicious. His mouth watered. Hunger took over.
He crept closer, belly on the dirt. But as he got near, doubt hit him. He looked at his own body. Soft claws—little clear nubs that bent when he pushed on a leaf. His skin was thin as paper. And his teeth? He ran his tongue over them. Barely there. Little bumps that couldn't even bite through a worm.
This is stupid, he thought. That beetle's shell is like armor. I'm basically a wet napkin. One bite from those pincers and I'm the one getting eaten.
He backed off, swallowing his pride along with his spit. The beetle walked away, not even noticing the tiny predator who'd almost made a huge mistake.
Defeated, he turned and crawled in another direction. The hunger was getting worse—a deep ache that made it hard to think.
Then he smelled it. Thick, musky, kind of sweet and rotten at the same time.
He followed the smell to a small clearing where a pile of animal poop sat steaming in the afternoon sun. Something big had left it there. And crawling all over it were bugs. Not the hard black beetle from before. These were small, round, with dull brown shells and stubby legs. Dung beetles. About eleven of them, rolling their little balls or digging into the pile like they didn't have a care in the world.
His stomach growled.
He crept closer, getting right behind the nearest one. It was facing away, pushing a tiny ball of dung, clueless. He opened his mouth and shot out his tongue.
The tongue whipped forward like a rubber band, wrapping around the beetle before it could react. He pulled it back into his mouth. Then the fight started. The beetle squirmed and kicked, its legs scratching his cheeks, its little body bumping against the roof of his mouth. Tiny claws hooked into his gums. He pushed it deeper, ignoring the panic, and started chewing with his little baby teeth.
The shell cracked. Green goo burst into his mouth—bitter and gross. The beetle stopped moving. He kept chewing, grinding it into a paste, then swallowed. Some went down easy. Some scratched his throat with little shell bits.
A message popped into his head:
[Consumed an Ordinary Dung Beetle - Obtained 0.2 Gene Points.]
It clicked. The panel wasn't just a screen—it was like a bank. Every time he ate something, he got Gene Points. That was how he'd evolve. Bite by bite, he could become more than just a helpless baby lizard.
He looked at the other dung beetles. They were still doing their thing, rolling poop, digging around. None of them had noticed their buddy was gone.
So he went after another. And another. One by one. Tongue, grab, chew, swallow. Same thing every time. His jaw hurt. His gums were raw. Green goo covered his mouth, mixed with a little blood from where their claws had cut him. But he kept going.
By the seventh beetle, he was exhausted. By the ninth, his jaw was shaking. But the numbers kept going up, and the hunger kept him moving.
The tenth and eleventh were stuck together—mating, locked end to end. His tongue grabbed them both at once. They struggled together, a tangle of legs and shells. One bit his cheek. Another stabbed his gum. Pain shot through his mouth. He crushed them together, their green goo mixing into a bitter flood. He swallowed twice. *Never thought killing dung beetles would be this hard.*
Then silence. No more movement. No more little bugs pushing poop.
He'd eaten all eleven.
He sat back, belly swollen, mouth dripping green and red.
He focused to see what kind of cheat he'd gotten after being reborn.
Gene Upgrade Panel
[Name: Ren]
[Species: Forest Lizard (Juvenile). Required 20 Gene Points to become adult-sized Forest Lizard.]
[Available Gene Points: 2.2]
[New abilities detected…]
- Clawed Strike - Required 2 Gene Points to develop the ability.
- Grip Jaw - Required 3 Gene Points to develop the ability.
So this is my cheat to survive this fantasy world. Nice. Hmm… Gene Upgrade Panel… means I need to collect Gene Points to evolve. It says I need 20 to become an adult, but I only have 2.2 right now. No go. What about Clawed Strike and Grip Jaw? I guess a normal forest lizard would learn these over months or years of hunting. But the panel is giving them to me early. Sweet.
He only had 2.2 points, so he chose 'Clawed Strike'.
He told the panel: "Develop Clawed Strike Ability."
His points dropped from 2.2 to 0.2. His claws started itching—a warm, tingly feeling. He watched as his short little claws turned razor sharp. Now he could cut leaves and small bugs like a tiny box cutter.
He rested that night, knowing more predators would come out after dark.
He dragged himself into a hollow under some roots and curled into a tight ball. The sun was going down. Shadows stretched across the forest floor. Somewhere out there, that brown cat‑sized lizard was still hunting.
Not for long, you big brown bastard. I'll get you once I'm grown, he thought, as sleep pulled him under.