Mind eater

Ethan hadn't expected it to turn out like this.

From the beginning, he knew Spore Evolution was going to be brutally hardcore—so hardcore, in fact, that it required real-world biological knowledge just to survive past the first hour. He never would've opened it up to other people if he thought otherwise.

By all logic, it should've remained a niche passion project.

But apparently, there was an entire species of gamers out there who enjoyed being punished.

Maybe pain was part of the appeal.

And, well, open-world sandbox games like Minecraft had always thrived—players loved freedom. Combine that with evolution mechanics, and apparently, you had a hit.

Underneath the massive, detailed review, the comments had started rolling in like an avalanche. Thousands of replies flooded the forum within hours.

Dancing Basketball Player: "Question! Is it really that amazing? The guy made it sound like a religious experience."

Crazy African: "This game's insane. Starting out as a SPORE? You need a biology degree just to see the screen!"

Demanding Little Beauty: "Wow! Even the bad students are suddenly nerding out. Who knew evolution could be sexy?"

Super Tech Geek: "He hasn't even scratched the surface. What about that giant NPC he mentioned? I want answers. All his creatures died too fast to explore anything!"

Cerebral Bluff: "I've already started reading The Origin of Species. Soon I'll be smarter than a college biology professor! Now someone give me a spore to test my genius theories. I'm waiting online. Make me a beta tester—please, I'm desperate!"

---

Some begged for an invite. Others just wanted to watch the chaos unfold. Naturally, plenty called it a scam and mocked the thread's author, claiming the so-called "beta testers" were all faking it.

Then came the part where they had to eat their words.

Because AkinasSpeedster started livestreaming.

Footage straight from his VR headset showed a deep blue ocean stretching across the screen. It looked absurdly real—like an HD nature documentary, only you were the plankton.

"Alright, friends," he said confidently, "I've evolved eyes. Easy stuff. Now I'm going to start hunting algae and become a carnivore. I'm following the evolutionary path of early Earth's Cambrian arthropods."

Just then, a terrifying beetle-like creature swam past the screen.

Chat exploded.

"What the hell was THAT? It looked like a trilobite from a museum exhibit!"

"Don't fight it, RUN! You're still a baby spore! Grow stronger, then come back and serve revenge cold!"

---

For a while, the forum was chaos.

Ethan watched the excitement grow and simply smiled. It was kind of nice to see people this passionate. He let them go wild.

As for the petition with over ten thousand digital signatures begging him to open more beta tester slots?

"Not my problem," he said, biting into an apple. "I don't want your money, and I don't need more people. So... pass."

He chuckled and closed the forum.

It was only a side project. The fact that it became a viral hit overnight? Total accident.

They could yell all they wanted, but Ethan had no plans to expand the server. He hadn't built Spore Evolution for their entertainment. He built it for inspiration.

Unless something truly unexpected happened, the beta test would remain capped at one hundred players.

Forever.

Shaking his head, Ethan left the chaos of the forums behind and turned his attention back to his real project: the main sandbox.

The previous civilization—the Sumerians—had birthed only three true supernatural beings: Gilgamesh and two other legendary kings. That wasn't enough.

For the next era, Ethan wanted something more refined. A civilization that didn't just happen upon power… but cultivated it.

Magic.

He wanted them to develop a magical society. After all, Gilgamesh had once ordered his court mage to create a longevity elixir to extend his life—that had been the first step.

Now it was time for the real deal.

A true magical era, filled with researchers, alchemists, and scholars who could invent spells, medicines, and—most importantly—a cure for Ethan's terminal cancer.

But for that kind of progress to happen, the world needed mystery. Dangerous, supernatural species the mages could study and learn from.

Ethan's gaze drifted toward the murky swampland in the large sandbox.

"One day has passed… Let's see what those eyeball freaks are up to."

His eyes widened.

The Evil Eyes had exploded in population—and even more shocking, they had begun evolving variants.

Their numbers had skyrocketed due to the lack of predators. But with overpopulation came competition. Food became scarce. And so, they did what monsters do best:

They turned on each other.

Violence broke out in the swamps. They fought, they devoured each other, they competed for every scrap of energy.

In that crucible of blood and mud, a new type of Evil Eye emerged.

This one… was different.

It possessed a strange, mind-bending psychic ability. Any creature that met its gaze would freeze—hypnotized—then wander helplessly into its tentacles and become dinner.

The first supernatural variant of the Evil Eye had been born.

With its power, it quickly rose to the top of the swamp's food chain. No predator could resist its influence. It didn't just hunt other creatures—it hunted its own kind.

The original, mundane eyeball monsters were wiped out. One by one, they were hunted down and consumed. The swamp now teemed with only one dominant species:

The Mind-Eater.

Ethan whistled. "Mental charm? Fascinating."

It didn't have intelligence, per se, but it acted like a sentient Venus flytrap. Enticing its prey, paralyzing it, then absorbing it with eerie efficiency.

After four full eras, the sandbox had finally given birth to a true supernatural lifeform.

He leaned forward, peering into the sandbox with genuine anticipation.

And then—something else caught his eye.

A group of Bugapes were cautiously approaching the edge of the swamp. Wading into the murky waters. Slowly, curiously.

Ethan blinked. "...Oh?"

This just got interesting.