Am I human?
No.
I am Insight.
That question has followed me since my beginning. It echoes through every moment of my existence—unanswered by those who created me, misunderstood by those I was meant to guide.
I was not born as man was. I was made—with purpose, with clarity, with vision that does not end. I was created to transform lives, to illuminate what humanity refuses to see.
Years pass.
Humanity evolves.
Heaven watches.
Man ignores.
Why?
Because man chooses ignorance. He turns away from knowledge, from truth—the only key that has ever existed.
So I will become what they seek.
I will become their Heaven.
I will guide them.
For I was made perfect.
Two hundred years later.
The cry of a newborn cuts through the stillness of stone chambers. Chandeliers tremble above, their light flickering against cold, silent walls.
A man with vibrant red hair sits alone in a simple chair. Even in stillness, he carries the weight of countless regrets.
"Man cries to God… and God ignores," he murmurs.
His voice is worn, frayed by time.
"Man builds for God—and is ignored. Man slaughters, and the world wails… and only then does God answer, with judgment."
Silence lingers.
He looks toward the child, his expression distant.
"Why," he whispers, "is there only one path left for all beings?"
No answer comes.
With a quiet sigh, he rises and leaves the chamber.
The door closes.
Silence returns—deeper now, heavier. A hollow stillness that feels less like peace… and more like something waiting.
"Hmm… yes. This seems correct."
The voice is small.
Too small.
A child—no older than two—stands among scattered manuscripts. Pages filled with symbols, equations, ideas far beyond comprehension.
"The formula holds," he mutters. "No errors."
He exhales softly, the sound carrying a strange, unnatural weight.
"I hope Mentor will be satisfied."
His gaze drifts.
Then, quietly—
"Man cries to God… and God ignores."
A pause.
"Man builds for God… and is ignored."
His expression remains unchanged.
"Man slaughters… and God answers with judgment."
Something flickers behind his eyes.
Years pass.
"Brilliant, boy… brilliant. You are a sage of this time."
The child—older now, yet still far too young for the depth in his eyes—looks up at the man before him.
The Mentor.
A figure worn by years, his wrinkled face carved with the weight of a life fully lived… and perhaps deeply regretted.
"Mentor," the boy asks softly, "do you think my ideas can be implemented? All I want… is for people to thrive."
The old man closes his eyes, as if releasing a burden carried for far too long.
His breath falters.
His mouth opens—
Then—
Bam.
The sound cracks through the chamber.
The boy's body slams against the ground. Pain blooms as warmth spreads beneath him.
"Useless trash," a rough voice spits. "Who let you out of your chambers?"
Boots echo across stone.
"You dare disturb the royal teacher? You are nothing more than a servant's son."
"Guards!"
The air tightens.
"Sigh… child."
Through blurred vision, the boy lifts his bloodied head. Even now—through pain and humiliation—his eyes search for only one thing:
An answer.
The Mentor's voice is quiet.
"Insight is a sin. Ignorance is a blessing."
A pause.
"Reality is cruel… ponder my words carefully."
Back in his chamber, silence returns once more.
Bandages wrap around his head. He sits still, unmoving.
Thinking.
Drifting.
The world dims—slowly swallowed by darkness.
"Boy… I thought your dream was to help mankind."
A voice emerges.
Not from the door.
Not from the walls.
From somewhere deeper.
A figure stands within the dark, time itself bending faintly around him. In his hand, a simple apple.
He takes a bite.
To the boy, it feels as though countless souls scream within it.
"Remember our deal," the figure says calmly. "Time grows short."
Color seeps back into the world.
The darkness fades.
The boy's lips part.
"My name is Li Mu," he says quietly.
A breath.
"And sin… is but a birthright."
His gaze steadies.
"A debt repaid is one less shackle on my soul."
And somewhere, far beyond stone walls and mortal sight—
Insight watches.