Prologue: Ouroboros, the Heavenly Serpent
The Eternal Citadel of Heavens.
Dipledius shifted his calculative gaze toward a starless sky as he stood impassively on his pedestal, listening to every woe, qualm, and praise of all the beings he had come to rule in his eternal existence. They represent the only binding thread that thinly attaches him to his remaining sanity. Yes, Gods can grow insane too, and yes, Dipledius is a God, at least some form of it. But unlike mortals, Divine beings like himself become crazed not because of reasons comparable to that of a human's.
Instead, it can only originate from a doubt, a recurring doubt that one has sown against his creator. Even a sliver of it is capable, if left alone, to corrupt the line that tethers them to The Great God's 'Divine Will'. If it gets corrupted, not only will their heavenly powers be rescinded, but also everything about them will regress back to that of a mortal, losing all the things that made them 'Gods'. At least, those are the rules according to 'Him', and no one had the audacity to even utter a protest.
'Creator', 'Deus Maximus', 'Him', the 'Great God', and the 'Unseen God'. The being that even Dipledius himself cannot stand on the same stage with, has amassed exploits of both tyranny and benevolence, making him worthy to be the most potent God. But every time Dipledius hears anyone fanatically praying to 'Him', memories from countless epochs ago will start to erupt and attempt to slam against the barrier that keeps him from recalling the events that happened then.
But it will fail every time, overwhelming him with wrath of which origin he still struggles to find; tears will try to fall, but he knew, as a God, that emotions and attachments are something that only mortals are privileged enough to have. And every time this experience recurs, his divinity seemed to shakily break free from these godly constrictions, offering him a temporary access to the pleasure of emotions that he long sought to have.
He? A God? Erase his memories?
Erasing his memories requires an entity that stands at the pinnacle, resembling that of omnipotence itself. And it just happened that only one have reached that point.
Ever since Dipledius has taken the helm of the 'Pontifex Maximus', as the left hand of the Great God, neither him, nor anyone of his contemporaries have seen the innate shell* of the existence that they all feel ruthlessly dominated by. This God, it seems, is a shapeshifter, one time you'll see him as a cow, but in one blink he might now don even the appearance of your most trusted lover. That's why they're all wary of even the slightest thoughts of treason or doubt. But Dipledius has already gone past that. He has a secret that nobody knows, even God himself.
"Laus Deo Semper! Praise. God. Always... " His rebounding voice that has retained it's apparent tone of sarcastic mockery, resonated in its full capacity across a gargantuan hall plastered with designs and structures that appears to have eclipsed anything that a human hand could possibly muster. And across it's walls are murals that have miniaturized all exploits of glory and gore that Dipledius himself have exacted to both his allies and enemies.
In his humanoid form, he stands at a height unfathomable by a mortal's comprehension. Twinkling galaxies have beautifully illuminated his piercing eyes that seem capable of peering to all things at the same time. A robe so glamorous as to have been studded with stars flutters under the influx of the superfluous energy that flows from the countless universes that Dipledius holds within the palm of his hands.
Thousands of realms, with countless galaxies and planets within, now revolves around his wrists like a moth to a flame.
Because Dipledius is a God second only to one, the expanse of the territory he rules over can naturally be equaled only by the "Right hand"---Theastius, the Draconic Empyrean, his first obstacle to achieving what he yearns for the most.
But even if Theastius appeared to equal Dipledius since they are both the "Hands of God", he is still a notch weaker than him if not for his possession of the "Final Axe", a weapon made with flames derived from the explosions when universes are made, given by the Great God himself; capable of bringing a necessary balance between the two "Hands".
At this point, Dipledius is playing with the orbs of universes in his fingers, shifting them from one finger gap to another. The vicissitudes in his eyes reflect the intensity of thought that he has put the full force of his mind over. And it can make one wonder, what exactly is he thinking about? Something capable to force his infinitely capable mind to such a state, and yet failing again and again in providing an optimal solution.
As he delved deeper into his endless thoughts, his usually peaceful eyes filled with galaxies threatens to change its appearance, alternating from its former tranquil gaze to that of a stare that resembles the vertical slit of a serpent's venomous scrutiny.
But it doesn't look like it is appropriate to say that his eyes resemble a snake's, rather, it feels closer to the truth to say that a snake's eyes resemble his.
"Father..." A hesitating voice snapped him back from his stupor, halting the full emergence of something he has hidden for too long.
He paused for a while, ignoring the recent disturbance.
"For what purpose have you visited me for?...Iliana?" His words embedded with a hint of hostility, he looked sideways just enough to catch a glimpse of a woman with looks deserving the bow of the heavens in his periphery.
Iliana sighed, as if mustering the courage to say the words she has to say.
"I-I wish to come back father... I-I was wrong" She looked up, teary-eyed, to catch a full view of Dipledius's reaction to her plea.
Dipledius's lips disproportionately spread, and small gushes of air escaped his mouth repetitively with intervals decreasing by the second.
"HA!...HA!...HA!...HA!.HA!...HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!" His psychopathic laughter reverberated against the non-existent walls of the cosmos, awakening the firmament's strongest existences, bringing everyone down to their knees with every laugh; history has repeated itself it seems...