Alchemy is, at its core, the pursuit of perfection—the transformation of what is into what should be. For years I thought that meant gold, immortality, or enlightenment. I was wrong.
True perfection lies in creation.
After decades of work, after endless failures and countless lifeless shells, I finally achieved it. I learned how to create homunculi—artificial humans, sculpted from alchemical essence and animated by the Philosopher's Principle.
The process was nothing short of divine. It required human DNA, elemental essence, and soul energy carefully siphoned from the edges of death's dimension—my dimension. The spark of life itself was the final ingredient, a fusion of raw chaos and divine order, bound by transmutation circles that stretched across entire chambers of reinforced obsidian.
When the first one opened its eyes, pale and empty, it looked at me with quiet confusion. It breathed. It moved. It lived.
It obeyed.
For the first time in history, life had been forged by human hands—and it was mine.
At first, they were fragile things, imperfect copies of humanity. They lacked emotions, lacking the divine spark of a true soul. They were useful, though—obedient, tireless, and disposable. I used them for testing, experimentation, and labor.
But it wasn't enough.
My next goal became clear: to grant them magic. To create a being with both an artificial body and a genuine magical core. If I could succeed, it would mean the creation of an entirely new species—one that could surpass humanity itself.
That task, however, proved infinitely more difficult. A magical core isn't just energy; it's will, identity, and emotion woven into existence. Even with my mastery over death, I couldn't simply craft a soul from nothing.
Still, I continued. Every failure only strengthened my resolve. Every shattered vessel brought me closer to understanding the divine mechanism behind creation.
With this discovery, my reputation in the world of alchemy soared to unprecedented heights. Wizards began to whisper my name with reverence and fear alike. They called me The Alchemist, placing me on the same pedestal as Nicolas Flamel himself.
Flamel sought immortality. I had achieved it.But I sought something far greater.
I sought the power to create life.