It has been an uncountably long time since I did anything of significance. Days, centuries, maybe even eons passed—who knows? Time tends to blur when you are eternal. I wasn't asleep, nor was I awake. I simply existed in a void of apathy, hovering between thought and silence. Boredom is a powerful thing. It gnaws at even the mightiest minds, and mine is no exception. I am, after all, a creator—a being who shaped entire realities with a flick of my will. But even creation gets dull when there's no challenge, no spark, no fun.
And so, on what was probably the trillionth yawn of my existence, I decided to explore something I had left to grow on its own for far too long: my own little planet—Earth.
What a curious place. Humble, flawed, chaotic... and yet strangely beautiful. I watched quietly, hiding my presence. I saw humans fight, love, despair, dream. I saw technology advance, cultures clash, and emotions bloom. But most unexpectedly, I discovered something that stirred my long-forgotten excitement—entertainment.
Manga. Anime. Stories filled with wonder, emotion, heroism, and tragedy. Universes where gods walked among mortals, where power wasn't inherited but earned, and where even the smallest person could stand up to cosmic forces. I devoured it all. I laughed. I cried. I even fanboyed once or twice. That's when it hit me like a meteor crashing into a glass house:
Why not make something better?
Why not turn my Earth into a realm where everything was possible? A world shaped by conflict and growth, filled with beings wielding unimaginable powers. A place where stories write themselves, and destiny is up for grabs.
So I began my project.
First, I altered the laws of reality. Gravity? Optional. Physics? Adjustable. Magic? Absolutely. I infused the planet with mystical energy—call it mana, ki, spiritual force—whatever suits the taste. I established zones of chaos and harmony, dungeons that twist dimensions, forests that grow with sentience, skies that reflect emotion.
Then, I crafted the structure of power. To prevent anarchy, I designed a progression system. A hierarchy of might, accessible to all but conquerable by few:
Mortal – The starting point. Normal humans and creatures without awakened potential.
Extraordinary – The first spark of power. Enhanced senses, small feats of magic or skill.
Superior – Masters of their domain. Capable of large-scale influence.
Legendary – Heroes and villains of song. Their deeds echo across continents.
Immortal – Transcendent beings. They do not age and resist death itself.
Half-God – Semi-divine entities with authority over concepts.
True God – Controllers of reality, time, and fate.
And above them all...
Me.
The one beyond comprehension. The source. The origin. The narcissist.
Yes, I'll own it. I made myself untouchable—because who wants to get overthrown in their own story? But that felt... too easy. I needed stakes. I needed unpredictability.
So I hatched a twist.
I would be reborn into this world.
With max stats, sure—but with sealed memories and powers. My knowledge, my strength, my very identity would be locked away. And the keys? Scattered across the globe in hidden temples, ancient relics, forgotten texts, and mythic trials.
A divine treasure hunt.
But even that felt too simple. I wanted this world to live, to breathe on its own. I needed overseers—beings of immense power and distinct personality, capable of guiding or obstructing the flow of destiny.
So I created them.
First came the Child of the Sun—a kid-god, born with the authority of sunlight and flame. Proud, arrogant, and quick-tempered, but comically obedient when I was around. Then came the Elemental Spirits—graceful and powerful female entities representing fire, water, air, earth, lightning, shadow, and light. Each with their own domains, temperaments, and loyalties.
I gave life to the Goddess of Life, serene and nurturing, the mother of all things gentle. I birthed gods of war, wisdom, death, time, and even chaos. Each one given a spark of divinity and free will, because what's the point of control without risk?
And that... was my mistake.
In my weakened state—drained from creating such powerful entities—I let my guard down. I trusted them. I believed they would understand that I was their source, their maker, their god.
But power... corrupts.
All except the elemental spirits—bless their bound loyalty—turned against me. The Child of the Sun declared himself ruler. The others followed. They stripped me of authority, imprisoned my conscious self within the very reincarnation system I had designed, and scattered the last piece of my divine essence across the world.
My body fell. My soul fractured.
The world cheered, unaware that their creator had been exiled by his own creations. The gods sat on false thrones. My name became taboo, then forgotten.
But even sealed, I am still me.
And I will return.
When the last key is found… when the truth of the world starts to unravel… when the gods begin to fear the shadows they cast… I will rise again.
And this time, I will not be so merciful.