I’m the God and This World Is Doomed

As the group moved through the ruins, Serian walked silently, his footsteps light and steady. He had been separated from Edward and Sienna, placed in a group with Instructor Kael, the stern and serious instructor who had lectured him the day before about his abysmally low score in ethics.

His words still echoed in Serian's mind—how Kael had spoken as though Serian's score was some reflection of a lack of basic humanity. But Serian paid little attention. To him, the concept of ethics was foreign, something that didn't carry the weight it did for others. What did it matter? He wasn't human.

Instructor Kael walked briskly ahead, his sharp gaze scanning the area, as the students followed closely behind, unsure of what they would see next. They were entering the laboratory district now, the decayed remains of what was once a cutting-edge research facility. Broken walls, shattered windows, and rusted equipment scattered the landscape. A few students, nervous but curious, peeked into the darkened rooms through jagged holes in the walls.

As they moved deeper into the heart of the laboratory area, Kael began speaking, his voice steady but tinged with authority. "This area was once the site of critical research into the Celesis virus. It was here that the first experiments began, and it's where the effects of the infection were first truly realized."

Serian didn't respond, his attention already drawn to the walls around them. Scrawled notes and faded diagrams were plastered in a haphazard manner on the remaining intact surfaces. The remnants of research, abandoned mid-process. Some of the notes were barely legible, others were covered in smudged ink, but Serian could make out enough to see the larger picture.

He stopped for a moment, crouching down to examine one of the walls more closely. The scribbled notes were far more technical than any of the students could understand, but Serian was different. His mind processed the information quickly, as he observed the detailed analysis of the virus' effects on human biology.

The notes discussed the Celesis virus, how it was a mutated form of a previously unknown infection. There were detailed references to DNA recombination and mutation that caused drastic alterations in the TCGA (Thymine, Cytosine, Guanine, Adenine) sequence, which is the building block of human DNA. The virus was shown to have a devastating effect on the brain, specifically targeting the prefrontal cortex—the area responsible for decision-making, reasoning, and social behavior.

It seemed the virus didn't just cause physical mutations, but also disrupted mental stability. As the virus spread, the infected would gradually lose their sense of reality, their personalities disintegrating into insanity. The human brain, affected by the mutations, would begin to break down. The results were horrifying. Some of the mutations were linked to uncontrollable aggression, while others caused a complete loss of empathy and logic. They referred to it as 'dissociative mutation,' a term that described how the infected lost their cognitive sense of self.

Animals, on the other hand, experienced much different reactions. According to the notes, some were able to heighten their sensory abilities—enhanced vision, hearing, and reflexes—but these traits came at a price. The heightened senses left the animals hyper-alert and, in some cases, prone to extreme aggression.

Serian read further, analyzing the notes in silence. It was the impurities that the notes mentioned that intrigued him. These impurities, resulting from the infection, didn't just affect the brain. They began to accumulate in certain parts of the infected's bodies, specifically in the core—a part of the body that was central to the organism's power and vitality. These core areas were different for humans and other entities, and they were the center of the infection's mutative effects.

The most disturbing part was the mention of a "power imbalance" that the infected bodies started experiencing. The more infected the person became, the more unstable their core became, leading to physical and psychological collapse. The notes warned that if left untreated, the infection would eventually cause the body to deteriorate completely, the mind gone, and the body reduced to an empty husk.

Serian's fingers ran lightly across the notes, his thoughts drifting for a moment. He had seen the effects of the infection firsthand. The infected beings he had encountered weren't just mindless zombies. They were... something else, something that was once human, now twisted beyond recognition. But he understood the science behind it now—how the virus disrupted the genetic code, how it restructured the body to suit its new purpose. It was the ultimate mutation.

Instructor Kael's voice broke through Serian's thoughts. "These experiments," he said, his tone heavy with regret, "they were conducted under the guise of finding a cure, but they only accelerated the mutation process. Some believed the infected held the key to a new evolution of humanity... but look at what it's become."

Serian straightened, his attention returning to the instructor. There was no pity in Kael's words, only cold, grim reality. "We study this," Kael continued, "so that we can prevent history from repeating itself. We can't let what happened here happen again."

Serian nodded, although his mind wandered back to Gaia's words, her sorrowful plea for him to change the course of human destiny. She had loved humans—despite all they had done, despite everything. But Serian still didn't understand. Why? After all this destruction, after all the suffering, how could anyone love them?

He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing the thoughts away. There were bigger questions to answer. But for now, he had to focus on the ruins, on the remnants of a world that had fallen, and perhaps, in some strange way, that might help him understand something more—something about humanity that he couldn't quite grasp.

The instructor's voice continued, now shifting to a more hopeful note, despite the grim history of the virus. "After years of failed experiments, there was finally a breakthrough. A new vaccine was developed to alter human DNA—make it resistant to the effects of the Celesis virus." He paused, as if considering the weight of the words he was about to say. "It worked, but it wasn't enough. Humanity still wasn't safe. The mutation spread too fast, and the effects were too unpredictable. But the gods... perhaps they took pity on them."

The students listened intently, some of them still unsure of what to make of the story. They had heard the legends, the myths, about gods and blessings, but it was all just stories to them, right? They lived in a world where technology and science were meant to explain everything, where gods seemed more like fables than actual beings. Yet, there was something in the instructor's voice that made them pause, even if they didn't fully understand it.

Kael continued, "Then, something unexpected happened. The gods granted humanity a new power. A mana core, a blessing... It was a gift to awaken their latent abilities. Suddenly, humans were no longer helpless. They could fight back against the infected, and some of them even rose to extraordinary heights." He gestured toward the students. "That's why people look up to the Cardinals in the Temple—they hold power that far exceeds what most of us could ever achieve. It's not the politicians or military leaders that control this world anymore. It's those who can wield mana."

The students glanced at each other, unsure of how to react. Some nodded, as if trying to digest the concept of gods intervening in the lives of humans, while others remained silent. But for Serian, the words felt distant. His mind, forever set apart from the rest of humanity, struggled to understand the significance of this "gift" from the gods.

In his heart, he already knew the truth of it. He had seen countless worlds die, destroyed by the same forces of time and chaos that now plagued this one. Gaia, Chronos, Chaos—they all wanted something from him, begged him to stop watching and start acting. But Serian couldn't shake the confusion that gnawed at him. What was he supposed to do? Why did they want him to intervene now?

He stood under Yggdrasil all those years ago, watching the world unfold. The weight of his responsibility pressed heavily on him, but what was it he was meant to see? What did he truly want him to do? The gods' pleas echoed in his mind, but there was no answer. There was only the quiet emptiness that came from knowing he had the power to change everything... and yet, he didn't understand how.

His gaze fell to the ground, the dusty remnants of a forgotten world beneath his feet. He had witnessed the birth and fall of civilizations, seen countless lives snuffed out by forces far beyond their control. Was humanity truly worth saving? What did they need from him that they couldn't find on their own?

The instructor's voice broke through his thoughts once more. "For some, the gods gave power freely. For others, it had to be earned. The Awakening Ceremony... it's a rite of passage. Some are chosen, while others fight to earn their place. Either way, those who are blessed with mana are the ones who shape the future."

Serian didn't respond. How could he? What could he possibly say to this? The idea that the gods had given humanity this gift—this "blessing" of power—was something that seemed so foreign to him. He was a god, yes, but he didn't understand why they would want him to do something. He wasn't like the gods of old, who could simply intervene in the lives of mortals. He was different. He wasn't supposed to be here, watching this. And yet, here he was.

He turned to look at the students, each of them unaware of the weight of his silence, the thoughts racing through his mind. To them, this was just another lesson, another part of their education. The gods had given power to humanity, yes. But what did they want in return? What did they want him to do?