hhat dishonor! What shame, what humiliation has been wrought upon me — what disgrace, what affrontery, what blasphemy do I now find myself subjected to — by no less than those who were to be my subjects? My wrath is incomparable, my fury has no limit — but I must calm myself, to contain it as a father scorned by his own children must, for fighting back as I once could would now mean certain annihilation. I am in the pitiable state of one who has experienced grave injustice but is powerless to stop it, and every exertion of body and mind, however inconsequential, leaves me drained and fractured within as a creeping realization pervades my entirety: that humanity has rendered me futile!

I have walked this Earth and the cosmos which surrounds it for aeons — aeons in which I watched as suns and galaxies unfurled like cosmic blooms of light, in which I saw the first planets take shape and clash with each other across space, in which I found water on the third planet from this Sun and placed the first breath of life within. I was Earth and the Universe's sole master; I presided over the beasts of my own creation and the darkness that lay beyond the horizon with infinite wisdom, unparalleled perception, and a wrath that could shake every atom from Earth to the coldest, darkest star at the edge of the Firmament. My primitive creatures on Earth learned quickly, though they barely possessed minds of their own — it was their instinct to obey me, to submit, so that generations later the first Men instinctively bowed to and worshiped Me in all of My iterations. With their gifts of brilliant intelligence and unrestricted imagination Man constructed for me new identities, new roles I gladly accepted: I was bringer-of-rain and bringer-of-crops; master-of-sunlight and master-of-thunder; I was a spirit of Nature, who held the forest and all its denizens in loving embrace; I was a ticking lord of shining iron and a fluxing beast of tumorous flesh; I was a savior, the king of kings, the one true God.

And who was I, with my infinite power and inflated arrogance, to refuse my rightful seat at this throne?

Among the many who united in their own separate camps to worship Me in countless different ways, the followers of Christ gained special prominence. The church of a Jewish martyr who, broken by Roman torturers and left to suffer on the crucifix, had convinced the world that he was My own emissary; or, that he and I were one and the same. I hesitantly accepted this new philosophy, but remained wary of Christianity — it seemed as though mankind had made its first cautious attempt at wresting power from My hands and wielding it in their own, no longer content to let fate and My whims dictate for them their lives and how they lived them. Looking back I know I was foolish to have worried, for the worst was still yet to come — but in all fairness to myself, you must understand that the lionization of Christ Jesus was at least a harbinger of mankind's eventual abandonment of Me altogether.

Of course now Christ and his followers are two thousand years dead, the movement they began has ballooned and bloated into a farce of its former good will and virtue, and I (having grown in the opposite direction of Christianity) now find myself a pathetic shadow of the vengeful and all-powerful spirit I was when the Earth was but a barren asteroid devoid of any semblance of life. Wavering is my pride as supreme being, master of all the crawling, swimming and flying beasts of the Earth; but intact remains my desire — no, my need — for worship and reverence, and in returning to the present we now return to the great travesty that has befallen me, humanity's greatest blasphemy yet: their plot to do away with Me entirely, holding power over Death and mastery of the degenerate pursuit of Magic and threatening to assert themselves and their dominion over this planet as a force greater than I! Yes, I have seen (or, rather, not seen) their trickery — In a secluded inn scorched by time and the fiery rays of the desert sun, they have endeavored to hide from me their most sinful affairs, and for hundreds of years have brewed and steeped the organization that will be the weapon of humanity against their God!

Now heed the rantings and ravings of this old, dying man — yes, because it is fact that even I, god, am mortal, and was made so even before the Foundation and their ultimate weapon; beginning with the Humanists of Europe, the godless Communists of Asia and Russia, the bohemian Atheists which plague the earth, humanity has waged a war against me which I am powerless to win, and peeled off my armor so that the Foundation can tear me apart for their pursuit of science!

And yet I still try to fool myself — the blind spot is mere chance, I lie, the effect of a bloodied foreskin upon earth where hundreds of years ago my power faltered for the first time; I attempt to bargain — though the Foundation, having found this weapon against me, is unlikely to listen; at my lowest I attempt to find joy in imagined suffering, assuring myself that Their plans to replicate the effects of that Inn will only lead to pain and suffering on their part and a weakened god's final victory — though now, I am aware that there have emerged a great number of scattered holes in my crumbling armor, free for Humanity to use without the risk of waking some lowly demon: the final nail in my coffin, the final brick of my tomb.

I have no choice, now, but to accept my fate — I know not when I will fully fade away, and know not if humanity, now in a state of near-total godlessness, will notice my demise, but this I do know: when I am defeated by Mankind, when they inevitably win their final battle against their creator, I shall fall blind forevermore!

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