EVoluTion Begins With A Cell

"After coming to terms with the confusion of being neither fully man nor woman... I finally realized the truth."_

Asher's thoughts circled in despair as he gazed upon his body. It wasn't as if he was ungrateful to be born, but... this? This was far from what he had envisioned.

Ruham, his father, narrowed his eyes, observing him with a scrutinizing gaze. A low hum of understanding left his lips before he spoke, his words landing like hammers.

"Wow... I finally see it," Ruham murmured, almost in disbelief. "It's... a bump."

_A bump? A fucking bump?_

Asher's chest tightened with humiliation. The word reverberated through his mind, over and over. *A bump*. His father had said it so casually, as if it wasn't a significant part of his identity. Worse, the look of confusion and mild disappointment was written all over Ruham's face.

To his father, the "bump" was not a symbol of masculinity, not even a marker of worth. For him to refer to Asher's most private and sacred part as a mere *bump*... it meant it was nothing, not even an inch. At this point, he should've been considered a girl in their eyes.

Ruham shook his head, visibly disappointed. "I don't see this as very manly at all."

_This is not possible! I am the son of the great pound master! I cannot have this..._ Asher's mind screamed in frustration.

His parents' eyes turned to Old Nanny Beth, who stood off to the side, fidgeting with her apron, equally perplexed by the situation. The silence in the room thickened, hanging like an oppressive cloud. No one seemed to know how to respond to the peculiar discovery.

Beth began to stammer nervously, her hands wringing the fabric of her apron, "H-hum... This... this must be a sign from the goddess. Yes, he must be destined to become a saint of the goddess."

Asher could barely contain his rage. _Saint? You motherfucking bitch! Do you even have children? Would you wish your children to die virgins?!_

If he had hands, he would have wrapped them around her throat. The overwhelming urge to choke the life from the Nanny was undeniable. How dare she condemn him to such a fate?

Ruham, who had been stunned into silence, finally nodded, considering Beth's words. "Now that you mention it, that's... actually quite wonderful. My twelfth son, a saint of the goddess! This is good luck."

Seraphina, Asher's mother, offered a soft smile, filled with admiration. "He truly is a blessed child."

Asher felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. They didn't even ask for *his* opinion. Not even once. His future, his desires, his existence—decided by a mere suggestion from a terrified old woman. _When I'm older..._ he seethed internally, _I won't forget this, Nanny. I'll make sure you regret your words._

Nanny Beth was still trembling but gathered enough courage to ask, "What shall we call him, my Lord?"

Ruham thought for a moment, pacing the room as if considering something of great importance. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, he declared, "Gift of the stars—Aelorin Ruham."

---

Days passed since Asher was given the name Aelorin by his father. The once grandiose hopes he had for his life were now shattered, and with each passing moment, the weight of his destiny bore down on him.

His once-active system had grown dormant, leaving him to the monotonous existence of a newborn. Every day blurred together as he drank breast milk, fell into a milk-induced slumber, and repeated the process again. This was life—simple, repetitive, and dreadfully slow. Yet, with each feeding, he could feel the faint stirrings of growth. His once invisible "bump" had become ever so slightly more noticeable, much to the delight of his mother.

But none of this mattered. In his mind, he was nothing more than a prisoner in his own body, waiting for the day he would be handed over to the goddess, to become nothing more than a tool.

Still, he wasn't completely idle. Each day, while his body rested, his mind worked tirelessly. Strapped to his mother's chest in the soft folds of her baby carrier, Aelorin observed the world with curious eyes, his mind absorbing every detail.

Seraphina often ventured outside the room, greeted by servant elves who bowed in her presence. Despite her noble status, she preferred to handle certain tasks herself—likely an attempt to regain her pre-pregnancy strength. The first stop was always the kitchen, where the maids respectfully cleared the way for her.

Aelorin watched in awe as his mother performed her daily routine. She stretched her hand toward the bonfire, a large cauldron hanging over it, and with a flick of her wrist, fire burst from her fingertips, lighting the flames instantly. The heat crackled to life, and no matter how many times he witnessed it, Aelorin's excitement never waned.

Magic. Real magic. He couldn't wait to wield it himself.

Seraphina whispered a prayer—one he assumed was in reverence to the goddess—and summoned water from her hands, filling the pot with ease. The sight was breathtaking. Yet, after that, she switched to more traditional methods, using her hands to gather ingredients, chopping glowing fruits and roots with a sharp knife, then tossing them into the bubbling broth.

It didn't take long for Aelorin to come to an important conclusion: the magic in this world was mostly elemental, with a focus on fire, water, and healing. It was underwhelming compared to the grand schemes he had in mind. Flying? Manipulating time? Those dreams seemed out of reach.

After his mother completed her kitchen duties, Aelorin often found himself passed off to his sister, Arianna. She was young, only five years old, but she adored her baby brother. For Aelorin, this meant a free tour around the palace, riding on her back as she paraded him through the grand halls.

Arianna was a curious girl, always eager to show him new sights, from the beautiful gardens to the ornate tapestries that lined the walls. Aelorin enjoyed these outings, as they gave him a chance to witness the world beyond his small crib.

However, Arianna's room became an unexpected source of entertainment. She often invited her friend Elowen to join her in a game of dress-up, twirling in front of Aelorin, asking for his opinion on their outfits. Although Aelorin had no interest in his sister in that way, Elowen... well, she had potential. If only she wasn't five.

But those moments were fleeting, and soon it was night once more. While the palace slumbered, Aelorin spent his time trying to memorize the elven language. He could understand it, but speaking it was a different challenge. Each night, he repeated the words he had heard throughout the day, his mind piecing together the syntax and pronunciation.

As always, his lessons were cut short by the sounds of his father returning to his mother's side. The walls did little to hide the manly "duties" that resumed between the two of them. Aelorin woke up each time the familiar rhythm began, shaking his head. On the bright side, he believed these nightly performances would prepare him well for his own future endeavors.

Then came the notification that changed everything.

{Another Quest has arrived.}

Aelorin's heart raced. _A quest?_

{World Building Quest}

{Build your own Empire in this world.}

{Your Evolution Begins with a Cell and must reach the checkpoint of a NATION.}

His eyes widened in disbelief.

_Evolving... into a nation?_

---

**Author's Note:**

Let's dive into the world-building! Time skips ahead. Let's build this empire together!