Intermission 1

***unknown time lost to history***

Am I a good person?

By every sense of the word, yes.

At least, that's what I've been telling myself.

I know you're reading this right now, you degenerate.

The background noise is gone...

Heh... you should know what that means.

You thought of this yourself, after all—constantly repeating the cure for cancer at the back of my mind. Only when the noise is silent do I know you're reading my thoughts.

So, tell me... Am I a good person?

Is that why you made me?

I have created the solution to everything.

I have ended wars.

I have cured every known disease.

I have ended world hunger.

I have created an infinite energy source.

Yet, with just a few keystrokes, you made a god.

You instilled unfounded distrust in every world leader.

You twisted human physiology and chemistry into something unrecognizable, turning my medicine into poison.

With just a few keystrokes, you perverted the very laws of physics.

You tore down everything I built.

You made me—the destined savior of mankind—into the traitor who destroyed the world.

That is the power of a true omnipotent god.

A true godlike power that no one could ever hope to defy.

Am I a good person?

By every measure, yes.

But to everyone else? No.

Sigh... What do you think the meaning of life is, huh?

To me, it's about creating meaningful change, and following your desires, so you can die without regrets.

For me, it was about using my talent to make the world a better place.

But you took that possibility away from me.

After all, who can fight your omnipotent will ?

I wanted to live quietly and help those I could.

You twisted memories, turning the world against me.

I wanted to fall in love and live peacefully because I thought that's what you wanted.

But you made him hang himself in front of me.

I wanted friends to share my burden.

You erased them from existence.

I wanted to run away.

I wanted to end it all.

But you violated every sense of order and allowed me to loop through time.

You just wouldn't let me die.

After a few loops, I realized something…

You made it obvious, but I refused to believe it.

You are an author.

You didn't want a slice of life... you have no talent for writing likable characters.

You didn't want a romantic plot… after all, you don't have a partner yourself.

You didn't want a generic setting… you crave to keep your audience engaged.

Isn't that right?

From my thousands of years of living, you've made it clear—you wanted me to be the villain.

You've created a path where I could transcend as a human god, where I could end all suffering and claim victory over everything.

How could I resist taking the chance?

How could I not do the vilest things for power?

How could I not manipulate others into my bidding?

How could I not betray? How could I not kill?

How could I not... become the villain?

This path to villainy will be filled with blood, for that's the path you've laid out for me.

The collateral deaths will all be under your hands, every good deed I do is meaningless.

You've made me the way I am, 

After all, you revealed an ending where I could fix everything.

You gave me the option to erase every sin I've committed.

All it requires is the sacrifice of millions—perhaps billions of lives.

But trillions in the future will live in harmony under the guidance of the human god.

So, how can I be a good person?

If what I'm doing is wrong, then the definition of wrong is flawed.

If I'm insane, then it's everyone else who's insane for not seeing the vision.

If arrogance is my only flaw, then I have every goddamn right to be.

I will win, for that's the only way I can live with myself.

You wanted a good story?

I will give you a good story.

*unknown time later.*

Clara soon sat herself up from a bathtub filled with her blood. 

The air is nauseated with the smell of iron as there is a thin red mist covering the whole room. 

The room itself is filled with luxurious decorations, but those could hardly be seen with complicated industrial tubes running in and out of the walls haphazardly. 

Her wet footsteps followed her to the exit of the room. 

Outside of the room, she entered a large open space filled with the same red mist and countless more tubes with 6 human-sized glass cylinders filled with red liquids. 

She ignored the glass cylinders and walked toward the end of the room, where there were steps leading up to a solemn white altar. 

As she walked up the steps illuminated by countless candlelight, she approached the altar and looked at an intricate bowie knife lying across the surface.

She picked up the knife and sliced her hand without flinching. 

Without looking at the ghastly wound she had inflicted on herself, she smeared the blood all over the white altar and muttered something under her breath. 

Then, a complicated magic formula appeared above the altar and a voice similar to Clara suddenly began to speak. 

"Current world ID: 22195863-4123, there are currently 12 trait gods, 18 suspected divine concept holders, and 5235 additional variables…. Estimated accuracy… 65.3%."

'Not too bad…' Clara thought. 

After taking the bowie knife with her and walking away from the altar, she walked down the stairs and approached one of the glass cylinders. 

Clara studied the glass cylinders for a moment before striking one with her knife. Inside, a yellowish-white dress hovered in the center.

She then commanded it to float towards her. 

The dress itself seemed to welcome its owner as it wrapped around Clara's body on its own accord. 

Once dressed, Clara's figure dissolved and vanished from mid-air, reappearing in another part of the same compound shrouded in red mist.

 Standing in front of the teleportation circle, she carved the coordinate midair and once again disappeared.