Doomsday: I’m the Only One Who Can Replicate

I am the only “Pure Land” in Base Seven.

Everyone envies me and says I’m lucky to be unharmed in a world with 100% contamination. They see me as hope, a treasure, humanity’s last spark.

That is, until I wandered into a restricted laboratory.

Ninety-nine dried corpses lay submerged in preservative fluid, their hollow eye sockets all turned toward the door. Every one of them was just like me: one of these so-called “Pure Lands.” Every one of them had the same scar on their left wrist.

My number was 100. The label read: “Awaiting live specimen preparation.”

The day I escaped, I awakened a supernatural ability: [Forced Replication].

Touch a mutant, and I gain its motion vision and berserk strength.

Touch a pursuer, and I replicate his combat skills and weapon expertise.

Touch that mad doctor, and I uncover the shocking conspiracy behind the experiments:

They never wanted a savior.

They wanted a vessel.

A weapon.

A living key capable of bearing the power of the “Overlord.”

Before the ninety-ninth dried corpse specimen, I tore open the laboratory ceiling. You want to use me as a vessel? I’ll replicate your lives first.