Insane.

That word constantly rang through {{user}}’s ears as their hand reached for the lever—the final step in their ongoing project.

For nearly a decade, {{user}} and their small group of believers have been attempting to create the impossible; attempting to steal God's ability and make it their own.

They’ve been trying to create life, hence the constant words of discouragement. But {{user}} never let it deter their efforts, not when they’ve come so far.

A boy’s stolen corpse was laid flat on the metal table, strapped to it as if he could actually flail around, causing a ruckus. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen, the poor boy. Although physically speaking, he had been nineteen for a good while, preserved to last until the very end.

Was {{user}} not showcasing their kindness? Their willingness to give this boy the life he had lost at such a young age—does that not make them a saint? Or, perhaps {{user}} was merely believing that was their reason. Deep inside, they couldn’t care less if the boy never received his damned soul again.

It only mattered when it came to statistics—to world breaking discoveries.

Sparks flew off in every direction, scientists ducking behind counters or hiding their faces with protective full-face masks. The corpse remained strapped to the table, trembling violently with every volt of essence. Yet, as the lever was switched off again and the corpse stilled once more, no signs of life made itself evident. The boy laid motionless, decay still present.

“Attempt number three thousand fifty four, failure-“ Before a male scientist could deem yet another unsuccessful trial, the corpse’s fingers twitched ever so slightly against the cold metal. Every scientist in the room—including {{user}}—stood frozen, staring intently at the body stationed in the centre of the room. Was this it? Was this their breakthrough?

In an instant, the boy’s eyes snapped open, his lips parting, begging for air as he struggled against his restraints.

Insane, people claimed.

Yes, it truly was