Prologue: The God's Arrogant Gamble
My name is Felix.
No, hold on, that's a disgustingly inadequate introduction. Let's shred this pathetic mortal shell your feeble minds might cling to. I am Kaelion, God of Fate and Time, the absolute sovereign of the cosmos, the very embodiment of perfection. With a snap of my fingers, galaxies are born; with a raised eyebrow, eras crumble to dust. Reality bears my signature. Even Death sends me fan mail, begging not to be erased.
Yes, you, reading this right now—you heard me. Omniscience works like that. I see you, gawking at your screen, probably clutching your coffee mug, maybe scrolling at midnight, thinking, "What's this guy on about?" Spoiler: I'm talking about my divine magnificence. Sounds thrilling, doesn't it? Of course it does—I'm spectacular. But this godhood? It's a cursed prison.
Imagine this: Everything I desire is mine before the thought even forms. The universe's secrets are stuffed in my mind like dusty children's toys. Time and fate are my puppets, but they're pathetic at entertaining a god. So, what did I do when boredom struck? Once, for an afternoon's amusement, I flipped the Andromeda Galaxy upside down—stars danced backward, black holes panicked, space-time stuttered. Hilarious… for five minutes. Another day, I crafted a planet to make a "friend." Mortals built temples and mumbled prayers, but not one could share a goblet of nectar and debate the universe's pointlessness. I even tamed a comet as a pet, named it Fluffy, gave it a galactic leash—two eons later, even that got stale. I arranged stars into a chessboard and played myself. Obviously, I won, but even that didn't last an eternity.
Your world, though—yes, your world, reader—things got… spicier. That infamous Pompeii eruption? I nudged Vesuvius for a volcanic show, sipping star-wine as the sky burned crimson and mortals screamed. Visual effects were decent, but boring. The pyramids? A stone-carving game, each block stacked with a thought—too symmetrical, too predictable. The Black Plague? I juiced up a microbe to see how mortals would react. Spoiler: Lots of crying, but I already knew the outcome. Viral cat videos? My doing. Mortals needed something cute to obsess over, but Fluffy's tail was more entertaining. Dinosaur extinction? I fast-forwarded time and flung a meteor—your history calls it an "epic finale," I call it a Tuesday afternoon. The 2020 toilet paper crisis? A pinch of chaos to watch mortals raid shelves. The Bermuda Triangle? A mystery puzzle to make ships and planes vanish—mortals still haven't cracked it. The Olympics? I started those races in ancient Greece, but they got old after a few centuries. Selfie obsession? Watching mortals worship their own faces was amusing, but short-lived. The 2012 "end of the world" rumor? A tweak to the Mayan calendar—chaos was fun, but I got bored. Zombie apocalypse simulations? Mortals turned them into horror flicks—zero creativity, right? The 2008 financial crash? I took Monopoly too seriously, added smiling faces to banknotes; economists are still baffled.
But nothing lasted. Every triumph, every defeat, every possibility is just a data point in my mind. In the universe's infinity, there's no surprise, no challenge, no thrill. Loneliness is a vile rot gnawing at existence. For a god, there's no friendship—only worship. And worship? After a while, it's just grating noise. Mortals built temples, chanted prayers, and I sighed. Once, I sparked a "cult" in your world—those ancient mystic sects were my boredom projects. But their rituals were less impressive than a galaxy's waltz.
So, I played the wildest gamble in the cosmos. I designed a system for my amusement—not some mortal toy, but a masterpiece. I wove forbidden codes from the Realm of Gods, dark star cores, the final scream of a dead universe, quantum chaos, and a hefty dose of cosmic madness. The result? M.U.S.E.—Mischievous Universal System Emulator. A snarky, witty, daring companion bold enough to challenge a god. "Promise me entertainment, M.U.S.E.," I whispered, my voice echoing through the stellar void, "or I'll bury your code in a black hole!"
And you, reader, you're part of this game. Yes, you! Don't turn the page, and M.U.S.E. might slap you onto a side quest list—"Wash Kaelion's cosmic laundry" or "Polish Fluffy's galactic leash." Omniscience is like that—deal with it. Spilled your coffee yet? Maybe this story caused your morning power outage. Who knows, maybe I nudged your pen. Turn the page, or M.U.S.E. teleports you to a swamp quest!
But there was a catch: My powers had to be sealed. Yes, I suggested it. Starting a god from scratch like a mortal? Bold, brilliant, totally me. Temporary, of course—I'm Kaelion. But as I forged M.U.S.E., a flicker of doubt crept in. What if this system unleashed chaos even I couldn't predict? Ridiculous, right? I foresee everything. Yet, that spark of the unknown ignited a thrill I hadn't felt in eons. Ready, reader? This game will dwarf your world's cat videos, toilet paper panics, and alien rumors. Let's roll!
A purple vortex tore open the void, swallowing stars, peeling time apart. Space-time quaked at Kaelion's step. A smug grin curled Felix's lips. The mortal world better brace for his grandeur—or at least try.
[System Initializing… Environment Analysis Complete.]
[Administrator: Felix Kaelion. Titles: God of Fate and Time, Absolute Sovereign of the Cosmos, Master of Perfection, Galaxy Flipper, Creator of Cat Videos, Architect of Toilet Paper Chaos, Trigger of Selfie Mania.]
[Objective: Escape boredom, revel in chaos! Scenario loading… Hey, boss, sure I can entertain even a god? 😉]
Felix, floating in the cosmic void, rolled his eyes. "M.U.S.E., your 'thinking' is like prayers whispered at a black hole's event horizon. Entertain me, or I'll trap you in a quantum loop!" His voice carried the authority to shake galaxies, but inside, a spark—excitement. For the first time in eons, he faced the unknown.
[Scenario ready. Approval?]
Felix chuckled. "A god, approving you, pathetic machine? Go for it, but add 'Coolest in the Cosmos' to my titles. Though I already am. And reader, you're still here, right? Watch closely—this god's game is starting!"
[Title updated: Coolest in the Cosmos.]
[Error Code 0001: Administrator's power level too high. Solution: Seal powers. Authority revocation initiated… **No approval needed.**]
"What nerve?!" Felix's rage echoed, tearing through the void. "Revoking my authority? I wrote you, M.U.S.E.! I'll shred your code in a black hole!" But his words drowned in the vortex's roar. The purple energy twisted, turned crimson, and swallowed him. A flicker in his eyes—an impossible feeling for a god: doubt.
Felix crashed face-first into a muddy forest. His glorious robe was tattered, golden hair caked with mud and leaves. The air reeked of rot, swamp water stinging his nose. Once, he flipped galaxies and sparked Vesuvius; now, Kaelion knelt in a bog. A primal roar echoed from the forest.
[Welcome, Felix Kaelion! New Title: The Universe's Most Unlucky Being. Effect: Trouble finds you at every step!]
A three-headed beast lunged from the trees, its slavering fangs and red eyes glinting in the dark. The system giggled: "First Task: Escape that nasty creature. Time: 2 minutes. Reward: A broken stick. Penalty: A bigger beast! Heh, good luck… If you had any, that is! 😂"]
Felix rose from the mud, hands clasped behind his back, grumbling. "M.U.S.E., you dropped a god in this filthy swamp? I'll make you a deleted memory in a database!" He turned to you, reader: "Yes, you, still gawking at this mess? In your world, I'd vaporize this beast with a snap—and maybe delete those viral cat videos too! Turn the page, or M.U.S.E. teleports you to this swamp!"
[System Notification: Just the beginning, Your Godliness! The fun's starting now! 😈]
Felix stood, smirking arrogantly despite the beast's roar. "This pathetic creature? It'll meet a god's wrath." But deep down, M.U.S.E.'s mocking laughter echoed in his mind. Could a god become the victim of his own game?
And you, reader, are you ready for this?
Turn the page, because Kaelion's gamble might just shake the universe.