As Joshua prepared to dig deeper, Michael's experiment was nearing its final phase. The insects were ready, and the next step would determine whether he would become a superhero—or a casualty of his own ambition.
Michael awoke from a deep, restful slumber, his mind sharp and his senses alert. It was precisely noon, the sun blazing overhead, casting long shadows across the sprawling farmhouse. The air was still, and an eerie silence enveloped the property. The farmhouse, a secluded retreat owned by his grandfather, Samuel Anderson, stood empty save for two security guards stationed at the gate. These men, tasked with safeguarding the estate, had been explicitly instructed by Michael the previous night to leave him undisturbed. His tone had been firm, laced with a subtle threat: any interference would cost them their jobs.
Michael had also made it clear that no matter what sounds—screams, cries, or otherwise—emanated from his quarters, the guards were to ignore them entirely. He had forbidden them from reporting anything to his grandfather, Samuel, a man whose benevolence toward his employees was legendary. Samuel treated everyone, from corporate workers to household staff, with unparalleled respect, often going out of his way to support them in times of need. This loyalty was why the guards, despite their apprehension, agreed to Michael's demands. However, they imposed a condition: if Michael did not emerge from his room within seven days, they would inform Samuel, even at the risk of losing their jobs. Michael, understanding their loyalty to his grandfather, accepted the terms. He knew the guards had served Samuel for over thirty years, earning a place in his heart as family. Firing them was an empty threat; Michael respected their bond with his grandfather too much to act on it.
With the matter settled, Michael turned his focus to the task at hand. He was on the verge of a groundbreaking achievement: creating a DNA reconstruction pill, a marvel of science that could regenerate damaged human tissue. In a Type 1 civilization, such a pill might be commonplace, but on Earth, Michael was poised to be the first to forge it. The stakes were monumental, and failure was not an option. He had chosen an underground chamber, typically used by Samuel for clandestine meetings, as his laboratory. The room was isolated, secure, and equipped with the tools he needed.
Michael began by setting up his equipment. He placed a sturdy kadhai—a traditional Indian cooking vessel—over a specialized gas stove capable of reaching temperatures up to 2000 degrees Celsius. The kadhai, purchased from a local market, was unremarkable in appearance but would serve as the crucible for his experiment. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the arduous process ahead. The pill, known as the DNA Reconstruction Pill, required rare and ancient herbs, each with unique properties. The most critical ingredient was the *Tear of Phoenix* grass, a legendary herb rumored to have been born from a phoenix's tear. This grass, over 2000 years old, was said to heal wounds instantly and, in ancient times, regenerate severed limbs. Its potency was unmatched, and Michael handled it with reverence.
He ignited the stove, carefully monitoring the kadhai's temperature. When it reached 400 degrees Celsius, he added the *Tear of Phoenix* grass, ensuring no impurities tainted its essence. The process of refining the herb was meticulous, taking nearly an hour. Michael then turned to other rare herbs: 800-year-old *Dragon Grass*, 500-year-old *Ginseng*, 400-year-old *Amrebel*, and 200-year-old *Ice Grass*. Each required careful purification to remove toxins and impurities, a task that consumed two days and two nights. Exhausted, Michael collapsed onto the floor, his body aching from the relentless work. He decided to rest, knowing that fatigue could lead to errors. After eight hours of sleep, he awoke refreshed, ready to continue.
The first phase of the pill's creation—purifying the herbs—was complete. Now, Michael moved to the second phase: combining the ingredients. He raised the stove's temperature to 1000 degrees Celsius and began with a common herb called *Pathar ka Phool* (Stone Flower), often used in Indian cuisine as a spice but known for its medicinal properties. As it melted into a viscous liquid, Michael added the other herbs one by one, his movements precise and deliberate. However, in his haste to complete the process, he made a critical mistake. The kadhai erupted in a small explosion, ruining his first attempt. Undeterred, he tried again, reaching the midway point before another failure. A third attempt also ended in disaster. Frustrated, Michael analyzed his errors. He realized he had been adding the herbs too quickly, disrupting the delicate balance required for the pill's formation. The kadhai, now damaged beyond use, was replaced with a spare he had wisely procured.
Learning from his mistakes, Michael restarted the process, following the formula precisely. He resisted the urge to rush, adhering strictly to the instructions. The first phase passed smoothly, and he entered the second with newfound caution. Each step was executed with surgical precision, and soon, he reached the final phase—the most perilous stage of the pill's creation. Even master alchemists often failed here, and Michael, a novice in this field, knew the risks were immense. A single misstep could trigger a catastrophic explosion, potentially destroying the entire area.
As he approached the critical moment, Michael isolated himself from all distractions. His entire being was consumed by the task. The final ingredient, the *Tear of Phoenix* grass, was the linchpin. He had only three batches of this rare herb, and wasting even one was unthinkable. With his heart pounding, he added the grass to the kadhai. The reaction was immediate and intense. The kadhai's lid began to rattle, and a potent aroma filled the room. Michael's pulse raced; this was the moment of truth. Success would mark a historic breakthrough, but failure could be fatal—not just for him, but for the surrounding area. He thought of his grandfather, Samuel, and the devastation his death would cause. The thought fueled his resolve.
As the kadhai trembled violently, Michael feared another explosion. But then, a miracle occurred. The lid flew off, striking the ceiling, and a radiant red pill emerged from the kadhai, glowing with an otherworldly energy. Michael's heart leapt. He had done it. The pill was perfect, adorned with nine distinct lines—a sign of its flawless creation. Its surface pulsed with energy, and Michael quickly placed it in an isolated jar to contain its power. Exhilaration coursed through him. He had crafted the DNA Reconstruction Pill, a feat no one on Earth had achieved.
Yet, the question lingered: would this pill fulfill Michael's ambitions, or would it lead to his downfall? The journey was far from over, and the true test lay ahead.
Michael let out a deep sigh of relief as he completed the creation of the DNA Reconstruction Pill. His heart raced with exhilaration, and uncontainable joy erupted in a burst of laughter that echoed through the underground chamber. The sight of his triumph was something to behold. After all, he had achieved the impossible in just his fourth attempt—a feat that could mark a turning point in human evolution. Pride swelled within him; the pill was a milestone, not just for him but for humanity itself. Overwhelmed with excitement, Michael decided to reward himself with a well-deserved treat.
Emerging from the basement where he had been confined for four grueling days, Michael felt a strange mix of liberation and disorientation. The underground chamber had been stifling, its air heavy with the scent of herbs and molten metal. Michael, once a carefree young man who thrived on parties and playful flirtations, had changed. His connection to the cosmic records had shifted his perspective, instilling a sense of purpose. Yet, his playful nature lingered—he still planned to charm beautiful women and revel in life's pleasures. He smirked, imagining how his enhanced stamina, once his DNA was reconstructed, might make him irresistible. But those thoughts were for later. For now, he basked in his victory.
Stepping into the sunlight, Michael stretched, savoring the fresh air that contrasted sharply with the basement's oppressive atmosphere. His first instinct was to check in with the security guards at the farmhouse gate, as per their agreement. With a spring in his step, he jogged toward the entrance. There, he found one of the guards diligently keeping watch. Michael nodded in approval, satisfied with their loyalty. Approaching the guard, he was greeted with a warm smile. "Young Master, good to see you!" the guard said. "I was about to call your grandfather by evening if you hadn't shown up." Michael chuckled, recalling the guard's earlier warning about the seven-day deadline.
After a brief chat, Michael prepared to leave the farmhouse for his treat. But the guard hesitated, his expression serious. "Young Master, forgive me, but I think you should finish your work first. You've got only fifteen days of school break, and eight are already gone. Focus on your task before heading out." Michael paused, the guard's words striking a chord. The man was right. His mission to reconstruct his DNA was too critical to delay. With a nod, Michael turned back toward the basement, determined to complete the next phase of his experiment.
Yet, the question lingered: would this pill fulfill Michael's ambitions, or would it lead to his downfall? The journey was far from over,
and the true test lay ahead.