When I was a God

At first there was nothing,

because I was everything.

And it stayed the same for a millenia or so. I wandered the vast, empty plane without a single thought. It was laughable, now that I look at it now.

Then, I began to create things. I don't know why, but I felt that it was my duty. My very essence urged me to. I was terrible at first, the things I created were beyond human comprehension. Those humans, their heads would pop if they saw the monstrosities that I had made.

Speaking of humans, I made them myself. Don't believe what those fanatics say, it was I who did it first. I modeled them after myself, two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, what's not to like? I willed the creature into existence, and I observed from far away. 

The human looked around, and then the most curious thing began to happen. It exploded into red mist! I learned from that incident, it seemed those little creatures could not survive in the empty plane. Even back then, I too felt like I was going a little bit insane in that terrible void.

After countless failures, I began to grow frustrated. The past me simply did not know what to do. The whole task was beginning to seem a little daunting. However, I had reached an epiphany. Why should I do any work, when I can just make someone else do it for me? I should've known that mindset would lead to my downfall.

I split my essence, power, and soul into twenty-one parts. Each part, or god, whatever they call themselves now, were given a unique ability that they would use to fulfill their task. For example, Sol, the God of Light. He was given the ability of light and his duty was acting as the sun that shined upon the world. 

Of course, I saved the best power for me. I was the first after all!

The gods did their jobs, creating, destroying, I didn't really care at that time. I should've cared more. It was too late by the time I noticed that a great evil had been created without my permission.

On the fateful day, all twenty gods surrounded me, weapons in hand. As I looked at their eyes, I expected emotions of rage or sadness. 

All I saw was insanity.

A great evil, it had infected them all. I was the only one who was clean. Now that I think about it, maybe I had been infected too. It doesn't matter now.

The gods summoned their weapons, magic, whatever they thought they could utilize to destroy me. As they tensed their bodies, I looked at their faces one last time.

I pointed my finger at Veritas, the Goddess of Justice. Gravity warped around her head, causing an astronomical pressure difference. As she clawed at her face, her head exploded shortly after, golden blood painting the other gods. The mad gods really thought they could take down their creator without any casualties, how foolish. As the first god in history, I wielded the power of space and time. 

The battle had started. And after a century, it ended. To be honest, I don't remember what events occurred. It was a miracle that I could even think at all, considering there was a huge, gaping hole in my head. This brings me to the present, as I confront the last insane god, Arcanum, the God of Magic.

We are both severely wounded, me more so. I look down, taking note of my missing right arm and a massive wound on my stomach that wouldn't seem to stop gushing golden ichor. That bastard Bellator, the God of War. Because of him my guts were hanging out for everyone to see! How embarrassing is that. 

Twisting my hand in a circular motion, I reversed the aging on Arcanum. From the dust I created him, and now in a couple of minutes, he will return to it. As his appearance grew younger and younger, a hint of sanity glowed in his eyes.

"Creator…why did you… make us like this…? You made us… so weak… so foolish… flawed…"

I pondered the question, even though I already knew the answer. As Arcanus' time began to rapidly decrease, I answered. 

"You had to be flawed." I answered, looking back at the fond memories I had with all my creations. They were all so unique, I missed them dearly. I steadied my resolve as a pained feeling washed over me.

"To me, it was perfect."

There was no one left to answer that statement, Arcanus had already been unborn a minute ago.

I sat down,

and I died.

Now, they had everything,

because I had returned to nothing.