As consciousness slowly returned, Swordfish tried moving different parts of his body.

  “No discomfort at all.”

  Although Gar already knew this, every time he came out of the biological editing space, he had to spend some time getting used to his newly evolved body. But now, thanks to the practice in the biological editing space, the newly emerged Swordfish could easily control his entire body with just a little movement. This might be another advantage of the evolution within the biological editing space.

  By feeling his body and comparing it with the environment, Swordfish realized that this body was that of an adult Swordfish, not like the previous situation where he chose a spore to enter the biological editing space and emerged as a juvenile.

  Most importantly, this body should be male.

  “It seems phase evolution is directly applied to the original body. Thankfully, 8051 didn't get upset and make me female.”

  A few Swordfish swam past Swordfish's eyes, pulling him out of his thoughts. Shifting his four electric fins, Swordfish leisurely swam out of the crevice, revealing a spectacular scene before him.

  Schools of Swordfish, like armies, quickly and agilely assembled into formations, weaving through the clear waters, emerging from rock crevices to head out to the sea. Ordinary herbivores and even small predators were hurriedly avoiding their path.

  Around the nest, juvenile Swordfish were playing, stirring up streams of swirling water and releasing sparks of electricity, curiously exploring the world. They gulped down plankton from the water, eagerly awaiting the return of food-bearing adult Swordfish from hunting.

  “There must be a few hundred Swordfish.” If Swordfish hadn’t designed and assembled them step by step, and if he weren't now one of them, he might have been terrified by the sight of this dense school of Swordfish.

  “Why does the Swordfish school look so much like a tribe now? Adults hunting; some females guarding the nest; juveniles waiting for food. Could it be that the fish school is evolving into a civilization?” Swordfish was startled by his own thought.

  If Swordfish were to evolve into a civilization now, wouldn't that mean the legendary ancient ocean civilization was thus born? It would certainly be a new type of civilization, as far as Gar knew.

  Admittedly, it was a very enticing thought.

  But, it was also an unrealistic one.

  At least for now.

  “Thinking carefully, it seems close, but in reality, it's far from a civilization.”

  Upon deeper consideration, “The current Swordfish can’t think independently—the newly evolved memory brain can only store simple things, with limited capacity, let alone the ability to learn extensively and use tools.”

  A cold splash of reality doused the beautiful vision, pushing it back into the depths of consciousness.

  “The idea of civilization is indeed a long and arduous journey.”

  “But if I don’t go ashore, can civilization develop in the ocean?” Another thought arose stubbornly. “It should be possible. However, I don’t know how to evolve the brain. Plus, compared to the ocean, I’m more familiar with land civilization development.”

  Gar wasn’t afraid of adventure, but he didn’t enjoy it.

  Thus, after a brief reflection, Swordfish happily joined a passing Swordfish school, quickly taking control and slowly swimming towards the sunlit shallows.

  “I'll use land as the foundation for civilization development.”

  ※※※

  In the silent night sky, two moons reflected the light from the sun, casting tranquility upon the land and penetrating the undulating sea surface, guiding the bustling marine creatures below.

  A small head emerged above the floating waves.

  “Two moons, huh? Seeing this while being away from home for so long is really bittersweet, dammit.” With round, cute eyes, Swordfish moved his gills a little, expressing a sigh. “I wish I had tear ducts to release some emotions.”

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  Shaking his head, slight currents of electricity coursed over his body.

  “I haven't named this planet after being here so long. Perhaps I'll call it Twin Moon Star since I haven’t noticed any other significant characteristics.”

  At that moment, waves rippled through the water again.

  For an instant, it seemed that everything in the world—whether on land or in the sea, friend or foe—was trembling, except for Swordfish and the two moons.

  An earthquake, clearly.

  But Swordfish seemed accustomed to such situations. “Perhaps there are simultaneous volcanic eruptions or other disasters.” Carefully controlling his tail and gills, Swordfish slowly but steadily swam back to the school of nearly a thousand Swordfish below.

  “Who would’ve thought you loved this name so much that you’re trembling with excitement—I’m truly delighted.” Nimbly dodging a string of bubbles, Swordfish entertained himself with the thought.

  Unlike the calm Swordfish, other creatures nearby were in a panic, emerging chaotically from various directions. The frantic animals constantly created tragedies; in the face of nature's might, the power of any creature, regardless of its rank, seemed insignificant.

  “Ah, a scorpion in trouble—its weapon got trapped. I sympathize deeply.” A scorpion in the distance tried to pull its tail out from under a fallen rock, only to be buried by incoming sediment.

  Below, a non-evolved steel clamp was blocked by rocks, trying to crawl away with its heavy shell. “Oh, poor steel clamp, your heavy armor is outdated and nostalgic.”

  “Really, even the large predators, after hundreds or even dozens of quakes, are still wandering around.” Continually criticizing the unorganized and panicked large predators in his mind, Swordfish felt his animosity toward them diminishing.

  “Oh no, am I turning into an Ah Q?” Concerned about developing such a mindset…

  “Well, although you are large predators, fundamentally, you're animals. Facing the power of nature, fear is natural.” Swordfish changed his tone, finding reasons for the predators' panic. “But why aren’t the Swordfish, with me excluded, panicking? So, ultimately, you guys don’t measure up. Hahaha.”

  However, Swordfish selectively forgot how, during the initial large undersea quakes, both the Swordfish and himself were equally panicked.

  It helped that during those times, Swordfish was out hunting, less affected by the quakes.

  When Swordfish returned to the nest with the school, the juveniles and adult Swordfish left behind were mostly decimated. Back then, Swordfish was filled with resentment, helplessness, and confusion.

  Even now, Swordfish, under his command, couldn’t help but remain restless.

  After the earthquake had subsided for a long time, only then did Swordfish manage to consolidate the nest and survivors. Through more quakes, Swordfish gradually learned to adapt, leading the school away from the nest and staying afloat during quakes, avoiding the seafloor.

  This was one of many times forced from the seabed. The school’s numbers had decreased by nearly a third since before the quakes, which was considered fortunate—countless creatures had perished.

  Reproduction had become dangerously unfeasible.

  Through Swordfish's repeated coordination and subsequent quakes, the small memory brain of the Swordfish finally grasped the fact that survival rates significantly increased under Swordfish's guidance.

  Of course, the concept of survival rates was beyond their comprehension.

  Hence, after what felt like a routine baptism of earthquakes, all Swordfish learned to calmly face one of nature’s disasters, earthquakes. They began living collectively in the water with Swordfish.

  “It’s indeed a good thing that Swordfish are getting smarter, right?”

  In Gar’s memory, early biological memory often centered on breeding grounds. For Swordfish, however, the primary memory seemed occupied by obedience to the main consciousness, something that left Swordfish bemused.

  Rock nests were no longer viable for Swordfish. Otherwise, another earthquake might turn them into fossils studied by paleontologists millions of years later.

  The school now floated even while sleeping. Though this increased the attraction to large, roaming predators like Anomalocaris, it was preferable to being crushed by rocks like the immobile heavy-shelled beetles. At least the flexible, fast-moving Swordfish, with powerful electric capabilities, could effectively evade or even repel most predators.

  “These quakes have changed the world.” Swordfish, returning to the school, reflected on the familiar yet unfamiliar seabed and sighed like an old man returning after many years to a drastically changed hometown.

  Almost every post-quake environment shift occurred.

  “The legendary ever-changing world, huh.”

  Though claiming not to fear, the constant quakes meant that even floating in the water, Swordfish had to dodge dangerous bubbles emerging from cracks and manage turbulent currents. “Land is definitely safer; no earthquake shakes things up daily.”

  “This newly named Twin Moon Star shouldn’t break apart in quakes, right?” Gar, having only experienced minor tremors on Earth, was far from as calm inside as he appeared. Not to mention concern over the planet's structural integrity.

  “Getting to land sooner seems prudent, to avoid these near-daily quakes.”

  What Swordfish didn’t realize was that land might be even more perilous for creatures unable to float.

  Transformation of land and sea embodies the current state of Twin Moon Star.

  Hence, developing a space civilization, unrestricted by a single planet, might be preferable. Though, then, universal endurance might become a new concern.

  “Troubles are unending.”

  Quakes subsided after another brief burst, as panic-stricken animals gradually calmed and resumed pre-earthquake activities—predators hunted, prey fled, and sleepers continued, as if nothing had happened.

  Yet Swordfish were less composed. No—Swordfish were composed; it was only Swordfish himself who was not, for within the school, some had already fallen asleep in the water.

  “What can I say, the careless life of an ordinary individual seems quite comfortable.”

  Swordfish pondered whether fish in the original world slept this way or even if they slept, as Gar never paid attention to such details. Perhaps forgotten knowledge, the long passage of time had all but erased prior life memories.

  “Let’s head for land.” Finally resolved, Swordfish made a decision impacting all of Twin Moon Star.

  Perhaps.

  Then, they lunged for the nearest prey—filling the stomach is essential before doing anything.