It is often said that life is a miracle. Seth had his doubts about this phrase, after all a species ability to create life is sort of essential for it to, well, live. That was not to say that it was not a wondrous process, far from it. But it was still no more than simple biology, no more of a miracle than your wounds closing or your body changing as your grew over the years.

It was less of a miracle, and more of a fact of life itself. Life persists.

But what if this life came not from biology, but from something more mystical? No mating, no genes, no process. It simply sprung to existence through the marvellous power of another.

Would that not be a true miracle? Bob's existence certainly seemed to be miraculous in its conception, that was hard to deny. Would you be mistaken to call such a being that conducted those miraculous deeds anything other than a God? Perhaps not. It would be terribly hard to argue with that conclusion.

However, what if a Robot, of its own volition, decided to create another of its kind? Would that then be a miracle? Would that Robot be a God? What if a human made that Robot, what then?

In either case, Only an egotistical existence of the highest order would consider themselves a God under such circumstances. But who is to say that their creation, their miracle existence, would agree with that sentiment?

Seth, of course, did not think of himself so highly. He was not under the delusion that he was some kind of God, performing miracles with the snap of his finger. He likened himself more to a mad-scientist, like Frankenstein himself, performing crazed experiments in his basement than some mystical God living amongst the heavens.

But there were many who did think of him that way, and it would only become much more difficult to deny their claims when he spawned a new life from nothing but crystals and rocks.

These were the thoughts that invaded Seth's mind as he prepared for the monumental task he was about to perform, but such thoughts were ultimately useless to the task and only served to fill him with doubts and dread, so he quickly eradicated them and focused entirely on the task at hand.

Rooting out in the back he had been brought, Seth took out the largest crystal core amongst the bunch before placing the rest to the side. The lucky core was roughly the size of a baseball, fitting comfortably in the slightly sweaty palm of his hand. It had come from the Manticore, if he remembered correctly. Or at least the charred remains of the Manticore Omelette didn't feel like eating.

He drew in a deep breath, steadying his thundering heart, before emptying his lungs in a long, soft breath as he started to channel his mana into the Crystal core.

It hungrily absorbed every drop that was pumped into it, like a starved man being faced with a veritable feast, it gulped down every morsel of mana and eagerly awaited more. It's size was not just for show, it seemed.

Seth's mana stores, even with his recent soul upgrades, were almost not enough to keep up with the ceaseless demands of the crystal core, but its appetite finally seemed to be sated and left him with roughly ten percent of his mana remaining.

He could have poured even more into it, but that would run the risk of overloading it and Seth had witnessed first had the devastating effects these cores could have if they exploded. That too was only with a regular core that was damaged, not overloaded. He couldn't imagine the cataclysmic damage this beast of a core could impose, nor did he intend to find out.

Swaying ever so slightly, Seth shook away the signs of fatigue that came with low mana levels. He had only just recovered and he was already exhausting himself once again. It seemed comfort was never going to become a regular guest for Seth, at least not for long.

The baseball sized core in his hand thrummed with power, almost like the Manticore was still persisting within and growling at him with anticipation for what this power was to be used for.

Crouching down, Seth placed the core in the middle of its new master's chest and stepped back to observe the body that he had crafted. Although, perhaps 'body' or even 'crafted' would be a bit too strong of terms to be used.

In actuality it was little more than a pile of obsidian-like shards arranged in the vague form of a human body. After all, it wasn't exactly easy to craft a body with shards. He had nothing to hold them together, the pile was the best that he could do.

But, much like with homemade Christmas gifts, it was the thought that counts. Unlike the shoddy macaroni gift, however, that was more than just platitude said to spare feelings. With magical crafting, thought and intent were integral to the process. That was why Seth was undergoing this endeavour in the first place, after all.

Once he was thoroughly prepared for what he was about to do Seth turned his consciousness inwards once more. He dove deep inside himself, delving into his Abyss, the name he had for the incomprehensible void in which his soul seemed to reside.

Opening his eyes, not his real eyes instead it was more of a minds eye, Seth gazed at the state of his soul as it floated in the depths of his Abyss.

While others had souls that burned like flames, his had been altered by the various ordeals he had put it through and the processes of mutation. Seth's soul appeared more like the crystal cores he created, but far more vast and powerful than even the largest crystal core. Not to mention, it was fragmented, broken into various pieces.

From his perspective, gazing at his soul core was like looking up at the earth itself from the surface of the moon. This planet sized core filled his vision and was mostly in tact, except from a chunk on one side that had shattered, as if something detonated within the planet.

Each fragment that floated listlessly in the air was like an entire island in a vast, endlessly black sea. The only thing stopping these crystalline islands from floating away was ethereal threads that bound them to the planet like celestial chains that pulsated with power.

Taking a few seconds to truly absorb the awe-inspiring sight, Seth shook his head slightly and focused back on the task at hand. He quickly glanced over the chained islands that were bound to the planet that was his soul.

He couldn't help but remember the process of binding every single one of them, drawing them into his soul one at a time and enduring the never ending, mind melting pain that accompanied it. Yet, he had been so focused on the process that he seemed to have forgotten how many fragments his soul had burst into.

There had to be dozens. No more than a hundred, but even that wasn't exactly comforting. To think, he had come so very close to death and spent so much blood, sweat and tears to draw these fragments in and now... he was going to bring one back out.

Choosing the smallest island, Seth slowly but surely coaxed it over to him. He had to make sure to keep the connection to his soul planet stable, but weaken it just enough for him to move it from its 'orbit'. Who could know the possible dire consequences if he allowed that connection to break entirely.

This was a completely new territory he was strolling into, so as the pilgrim he had to be safe. Even if it meant less optimal results. Such things could be worried about later.

As the island drew closer to the metaphysical location of Seth's consciousness within this boundless Abyss, Seth was not just coaxing it over. With every inch it moved, if inches even existed in this place, he was imbuing it with his will.

He had to shut out everything in his mind that wasn't dedicated to the task, including mental access to all of his puppets.

His mind was completely focused on pushing his will, his intent, into the soul fragment as he drew it out of the Abyss. He focused on everything he wanted this puppet to become. He forced it to understand how it should interact with the body parts he had given it, educated it on how it he wanted it to live and learn.

He drew all of his accumulated knowledge on forging, pushing it into the fragment. He pushed his will into it, the will to become the greatest forge-master this world had ever seen.

At some point, as Seth was carrying out this arduous process, he began to hear a soft ringing in his head. Not a continuous ringing, but the melodic ring of a hammer striking against steel.

It started soft, barely audible amongst the noise of his mind as it worked. But with every strike of the hammer it grew louder and louder, until all he could hear was the ringing of steel being forced to take shape.

It was not distracting however. In fact, it was the opposite. With every strike of this mental hammer, with every ringing of steel, he forced his will onto the fragment of his soul. Forcing it to change its shape and its nature, forcing it to change from a mere fragment into the burning ember of a new soul.

Eventually, Seth opened his eyes once more, his true eyes this time. He glanced down at his hand, a complicated expression on his face as he switched his vision and gazed at the crackling, azure flame he held in the palm of his hand. A flame that pulsed rhythmically with power, synchronising perfectly with the striking of the hammer in his mind.

With one final strike of the hammer, the flame in his hand roared like an inferno, threatening to consume everything in sight and, with a simple flick of his wrist, Seth cast the flame forward. It struck the glowing, baseball sized crystal core and was rapidly absorbed by the crystals surface.

For a moment, everything was still and quite. The flame had been extinguished by the core, which hummed with power. Then, like an egg about to hatch, the core trembled ever so slightly before the obsidian shards began to move.