The crushing weight of eternal time bore down heavily on God's shoulders. Omnipotence and perfect dominion had faded into a tedious, unchanging buzz. He craved the bitter taste of defeat, the fierce joy of earned success, the wild, messy allure of mortality. So he devised a daring plan.

Initially, he molded a form of sheer possibility, christening it Zeno. Into this vessel, he poured the fullness of his omnipotence, the raw, boundless force that defined his glorious existence.

In contrast, God assumed a frail, imperfect mortal body. His soul was sealed within the endless cycle of rebirth, a faint spark of his true fire stripped of memory and might each time.

He would come to know desire, ecstasy, loss, and anxiety. He would stumble, learn, and truly exist.

So started the ultimate ordeal; God was simply one spirit wandering the endless expanse of reality, prepared to confront the disorderly, magnificent, and utterly mortal tale of birth and demise.