Xiu Zhen always believed science could make gods of men — but never once did he imagine it would make a god out of him.
It was late — far too late — for anyone sane to still be in the university's physics lab. The scent of ozone and solder hung heavy in the air, accompanied by the low, humming growl of the custom-built coil towering over the polished floor. It looked like a fusion between Tesla's forgotten dreams and a sci-fi reactor. Wires snaked across the floor like mechanical veins, all converging at one point — a sleek, obsidian orb cradled in reinforced glass.
And standing before it, goggles pushed up over his sweat-soaked forehead, was Xiu Zhen.
"Almost… done," he muttered, typing frantically on his laptop as a simulation spun onscreen — arcs of blue-white energy dancing within a digital model of the coil.
This was supposed to be a final-year project. Just a harmless experiment to simulate artificial lightning.
But Xiu Zhen wasn't content with average.
He had layered complex electromagnetics, ionized air amplification, and several borderline-illegal modifications to push the machine beyond theoretical thresholds. And now, tonight, he was going to prove the impossible possible.
The coil thrummed. Sparks danced between copper tips.
The orb began to glow violet.
A strange, foreign sigil — glowing like a blade of light — flickered across the sphere. Xiu Zhen froze.
"What the hell? That's… not my program."
The hum turned into a shriek.
The air turned heavy — charged.
He didn't have time to react.
A violet bolt of lightning surged from the orb and struck him square in the chest.
There was no pain — only clarity. His body dissolved into particles of light. Memories spun away like shattered glass.
And then…