The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 140: Life Seed.

He hadn’t noticed it before. Not really. Just a flicker under the surface, a pressure in his veins, a glow in the marrow of his bones. Something burning. Something ancient. Something waiting.

At first, Atlas had dismissed it. Blamed it on the Dark Continent—on the way death rewrites you when it drags you back from the brink. He’d woken up changed, sure. Stronger. Faster. Hungrier. But he figured it was just trauma. The usual scars that don’t show.

He was wrong.

"...Yggdrasil seeds," he muttered, the words tasting old in his mouth. Sacred. Dangerous.

Dracula had mentioned them once, back when he was chocking the shit out of him. The cold ghosts still sang in his ears. "Heart of a demon king... blood of Jörmungandr... and Yggdrasil seeds..." He’d thought it metaphor. Poetry. The kind spoken by those too powerful to speak plainly.

But now—

Now it was crawling under his skin.

"System," he muttered, voice dry, hoarse. "Give me information. Yggdrasil seeds. All of it."

The reply came not like data, but like prophecy.

[Analyzing host’s body...]

[Core Diagnostic Engaged — Tier III]

[Life Signature: Exceedingly High]

[Anomaly Detected: Persistent Surge in Vital Force]

[Source Located → Residual Integration of: YGGDRASIL FRUIT]

His throat went tight. The screen pulsed again.

[Further Analysis...

Host consumed not only the fruit, but the seeds—viable, sacred, ancient.

The seeds have integrated. Rooted. They are growing.

You are no longer only human. You are vessel and soil. Part man, part myth.

A chill spidered down his spine. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

[WARNING]

If unchecked, the Yggdrasil seeds may awaken fully. A branch of the World Tree could grow inside you—through the spine, the lungs, the brainstem.

Survival is unlikely.]

He exhaled sharply.

"...Well, shit."

His pulse thundered in his ears. He ran a hand through his golden-blond hair—his disguise as "Aiden" flickering for just a second, showing the edges of the man beneath. The real him. The one who bled too much for one kingdom and too little for himself.

[But...]

"...?"

[Potential Unlocked. If regulated, these seeds bestow gifts of divine magnitude.]

➤ Hyper-Androgenic Conversion

➤ Minor Regeneration

➤ Mana Recycle

➤ Genesis Spark – Create Life

Atlas hesitated. His eyes locked on the last one.

[Genesis Spark – Create Life]

Trait Origin:

Gift of the Eternal Grove. Forgotten by mortals. Once held by the First creators of law.

Effect:

Bearer may forge Life Seeds. They do not grow as plants grow.

They grow from memory.

From will.

From sacrifice.]

He opened the ability.

And the world tilted.

[GENESIS SPARK – STATUS: Dormant → Awakening...

Trait Integration: 34%

Stability: Low

Seeds may be planted in:

— Earth (to grow conscious flora)

— Magic (to form evolving spells)

— Steel (to forge living weapons)

— Corpses (to birth soulbound echoes—not undead, but not reborn)

Every Seed demands a cost. A fragment of you.

— A memory.

— An emotion.

— A piece of soul.

Atlas stood still, breath caught somewhere between awe and dread. This wasn’t magic. This wasn’t power. This was creation.

"So I could create... life?"

Not like a god. Not like a father. But like something else. A forger of truths. A sculptor of consequences.

And then—another window:

[Current Catalyst Sync — Isabella: 78%]

[Embryonic Life Seed in passive incubation]

Warning: Emotional imprint detected.

The seed remembers.

Awaiting development instructions.

Atlas blinked. Once. Twice.

His hands trembled.

He remembered that night. The blood heat. The surrender. The pull between domination and desire. He’d thought it was a mistake. A power game. A trap. But something deeper had taken root. Something real. Something raw.

Now that moment had consequence.

Not just in the body.

But in reality.

"...Shit," he whispered again, softer this time.

The kind of word people say at a funeral. Or a birth.

And that was when the pain started.

It wasn’t agony. It was growth.

His spine burned. His chest ached. For a second, he swore he could hear it—like something whispering through his ribs, brushing against his lungs. Roots. Roots trying to reach.

He fell to his knees.

Sweat beading on his skin.

His fingers gripped the stone floor.

"Not now," he growled. "Not like this."

[WARNING: Seed activity spike detected.]

[Channel life force. Breathe. Regulate. Or risk sprouting.]

He closed his eyes. Inhaled through his nose.

Breathe, Atlas. Breathe.

This wasn’t battle. This wasn’t steel and war cries.

This was becoming.

Ten breaths later, it subsided.

The pain faded. But the truth remained.

He wasn’t human....anymore. He remembered the time when his system labeled him ready to evolve. Evolve to a high human. But the consequences were dire. But now ....Now he was seeing the consequences of not accepting it.

He stared at the screen.

So many options. So many implications.

Each one carried weight. Each one whispered promises he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Atlas scrolled slowly, eyes narrowing at the names: ’Hyper-Androgenic Conversion’, ’Mana Recycle Loop’, ’Create :Genesis Spark’.

The system flickered again—another prompt, intrusive, persistent.

[Pregnancy Override Enabled — Potion Inhibitor Bypassed]

He winced. That damn prompt. It had appeared mid-conversation with Isabella, while she lay there tangled in his arms, whispering hypotheticals with that wicked gleam in her eyes. "What if I got pregnant anyway?"

He’d laughed it off.

Then the system lit up.

Again.

And again.

Like a fly that wouldn’t die. Like a warning he didn’t want to understand.

"I’m not making her pregnant," he growled, more to himself than to the screen.

’Recyc?’ No idea what that was. Sounded like garbage disposal for mana.

But then there was the last one.

Create.

His thumb hovered over the glyph.

One beat.

Two.

Three.

He clicked it.

The interface didn’t just respond.

It ’breathed.’

[CREATE: SEED CORE PERK - GENESIS SPARK]

[Initiating Full Analysis...]

Time stopped. Or maybe he just stopped moving.

The words weren’t words anymore. They were alive. Glowing, pulsing like the roots of something buried deep. Something waiting to crawl out.

He didn’t feel power. Not in the way spells surged, not like lightning in veins.

This was older.

More sacred.

Like the kind of reverence that made men kneel.

Trait Origin:

Once borne only by the First Lawmakers—those who touched the Heartwood of Yggdrasil. Lost in the Fall of the Eternal Grove. Never seen since.

Current Bearer: Atlas

Integration: 42%

Stability: Unpredictable

Trait Effect:

The Genesis Spark is the divine prerogative of creation.

It is not birth. It is not resurrection.

It is Will, carved into Life.]

Atlas leaned forward, scanning the effects with an intensity he hadn’t felt since standing on the edge of death.

’Create Life Seeds’, it said.

[Planted in Earth: Guardians. Trees that bled sap like memory.

Planted in Magic: Living spells. Sentient enchantments.

Planted in Steel: Blades that judged their wielders.

Planted in Corpses:Echoes, rebirths—not undead, but something between miracle and memory.]

He swallowed.

’Life,’ the system told him, ’is built on sacrifice.’

[REQUIREMENTS:]

1. A piece of the host — a memory, a feeling, a fragment of soul.

2. A piece of the partner — same.

:-The deeper the bond, the swifter the growth. The more real the spark, the more dangerous the flame.

[Active Catalysts Detected:]

➤ Elizabeth — Compatibility: 27%. Status: Incomplete.

➤ Isabella — Compatibility: 78%. Status: Life Seed processing... 34%.

Atlas blinked.

A chill crept down his spine.

"...Wait... It’s already growing?"

He didn’t need to ask what. The system didn’t say "pregnancy." It didn’t use words like "child." This wasn’t biology.

It was ’legacy’

It was ’creation.’

Not flesh and blood.

He leaned back, exhaling slow.

"Haaaaa..."

It was all he could say.

The weight of it—of what he had just chosen—settled on him like winter frost.

Not terror.

Not regret.

Just gravity.

He wasn’t a king.

Wasn’t a god.

But he had touched something holy or had ate something holy.

And now something inside him was ’growing.’

And what it became...

That would depend on him.

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