Stop Number Three was the home of the God of Life and Creation, the progenitor of all Gods in existence. Well, the earliest one to be made, anyways.

Gods were the very first beings to come into existence; the Original Existences, if you would. They were formed in the void, the infinite nothingness before everything came into being, literally springing to life, shaped and moulded by their own minds.

Life, in particular, was akin to a blazing sun when he was created. The divine energies radiating off of him grew universes and worlds countless lightyears away, with every new being or organism opening their eyes returning a portion of the divine power that they had received back to him, further fueling his life-bringing aura.

It was in this primordial soup of molten energies that Order and the other Gods were created, siphoning off and finally curbing the constant cycle of give-and-receive of divine energy that Life was stuck in for the first month of his life.

Death, his counterpart, was created at this time as well, but initially held a comparatively smaller amount of divine power, given that nothing had yet perished in this new plane of existence. This would change in time, of course, and nowadays the two siblings had a similar level of godly energy, but Life would always see the latter as his younger brother.

Death didn’t quite hate that though, and unlike most other Gods and their siblings, he respected and cared for his older brother. Life and Death as concepts were inextricably linked, after all, and there could not be one without the other.

Order arrived at the entrance of Life’s residence. Contrary to what one might expect of the God, instead of a treehouse nestled in an ancient giant sequoia in the middle of an all-encompassing, dense forest, with wildlife frolicking in the background and butterflies floating around flowers in full bloom… Life had instead chosen to live with his brother, Death.

And apparently the role of home designer had been left to him as well, as the current residence of the God of Life was a large, ominous, silver cube. With various metal-sculpted skulls of a variety of animals and humanoids adorning its front. On an island suspended in the middle of the Sea of Stars with no other solid ground other than the path leading to the Cube.

Order supposed that Life’s status as the greatest God did afford him some leeway in terms of where he wanted to live, but she couldn’t help but imagine what Life’s domain could have been. It would be more fitting if every God were neatly located in a site which most suited their calling.

On the other hand, she pondered, if every God were to live in a grid of Cubes connected by paths and proper signage, it’d actually be a lot more efficient and orderly. If one wanted to visit another, all they’d have to do would be to follow the path an- No, she was being silly. That would be akin to imposing her rigid standards onto Gods that outranked her. She’d be overstepping her boundaries in a huge way. She waved the thought away. No point in wasting time over something that would never happen.

She rapped on the metal gate, which rattled unpleasantly. “I, the God of Order and Knowledge, would like to request an audience with the God of Life and Creation, with regards to the replenishing of my reserves as per usual. I thank you in advance for your assistance and understanding with regards to this matter.” Order called out.

From the darkness beyond the gate stepped a lanky, masked individual wearing a pitch-black suit-and-tie, a cape of black feathers draped around his shoulders. This person, equipped with a mask carved from bone resembling the skull of some humanoid, was the God of Death and Taxes. Life was always busy with something or other when Order came by, so Death was often the one to let her in.

“He’s in the usual place, all the way in the back. He might have not heard you, so just announce yourself before you enter the room, or you might break his concentration.”

“My thanks to you, God of Death and Taxes.” Order stepped into the cube, and started towards the farthest wall. Order guessed that Life was probably working on another lesser God, as he usually did nowadays.

The Original Existences that Order and the other Gods were a part of were not designed by Life; he didn’t have a say in what ability they had or the personalities that they might have developed. It was a roll of the dice, if you would, that each God were created in the form that they ended up as.

Life wasn’t much happy about that. He was supposed to govern the concept of life and creation. He had the ability to make beings, entire organisms that had never existed before then, appear from thin air. And you’re telling him, of all Gods, that his best efforts couldn’t beat damned luck and chance?

It didn’t take much priority in his mind at first, since he was content with simply watching over the worlds he had been instrumental in creating. Through the creation of a puppet avatar (for he understood that direct contact would incinerate their fragile forms), he had walked with the mortals, interacted with them, learned and lived with them. That had been his life for the first few centuries of Life’s existence.

He had erected the Dimensional Wall around an area of the Sea of Stars surrounding the divine realms. Not to protect the Gods, no; but instead to protect these precious, mortal realms that had existed further from the sphere of divine influence that were the godly realms. He knew that the further life grew from the Gods, the weaker they would be, and the quicker they would die. And any organisms closer to the Gods, conversely, might threaten these defenseless children with their longer lifespans and increased strength.

His constant interactions with them were meant as a form of nourishment; with close proximity to his divinity, they would be able to exist for longer periods of time. He had reasoned to himself: he’d just be helping them along, just until they’d be able to fend for themselves. It wasn’t a big deal, any parent would do the same for their children.

Just one more year. They’d be able to protect themselves soon.

Just one more month. Surely they’d learn how to extend their lifespan.

One more day. Don’t leave me.

Please.

But that day never came.

And that broke him. After century on century of watching the ones he loved cease to exist, returning to Death who would lead them to their ultimate, final end in the void… He decided to take matters into his own hands.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

If these mortals were unable to last for long because they were far from his aura, his vitality, then he’d create proxies of himself. Gods able to spread his power amongst the stars, and keep one more mortal alive another day.

Order thought that the story was rather tragic, but noble as well. A father trying to keep his sickly children alive, at any and all costs, to the extent that he would devote his life to finding and creating the perfect cure to death itself, to hurl himself at an unsolvable problem over and over again. The God of Life and Creation was truly worthy of his position as the greatest God.

She stopped in front of the large metal door labelled Work, and tapped twice, a quick one-two. The muffled grating and grinding noises that had been continuing for the period that Order had been standing there for slowed, then stopped entirely.

“It is I, the God of Order and Knowledge.” The door swung open, and a man with a shaggy white mane answered. “Ah, Order. Here for the usual, huh?” He smiled wearily and guided her into his quarters. Life towered over her, being around twice her height, which wasn’t surprising, as he was the most powerful being on the divine plane of existence. And size of the vessel probably did translate to greater capacity.

“Here, you can lie down here while I work on this project” He sat down, cross-legged on the carpeted ground, patting his left thigh. Order sighed, then lay down on the floor next to him, head in his lap. It was futile to argue, as she had tried before.

Previously, she had made a case that divine power transfer was more effective palm-to-palm. And time-efficient, too. It would take around 6 minutes for her entire reserves to be filled, compared to the 50-odd minutes that a single hand transference would require. Life’s single refutation was that she was his daughter (in a manner of speaking), and she should simply lie down, and accept his love and care quietly.

A bulletproof argument for Order, really, who deferred to structures of power and symbols of authority. And she did see herself and the other Gods as his children, so really, she had no way of getting out of this.

Life stroked her brown hair with a palm, refueling her depleted reserves through contact. With his other hand, he grasped the suspended ball of what looked to be liquid meat and some sort of glowing white substance (that Order recognised as pure, solidified divine power) and spun it. The suspension began to mix, and the grating and grinding noises resumed.

“I’m trying a new method out. Usually, I form the limbs and body separately, then combine them and inject the resulting fusion with as much power as it can take. The Gods formed that way were more durable, I suppose, but they lacked… synergy? Compatibility? Anyways, they weren’t able to hold much divine aura for long, which results in a God that has significantly less power than you children.” Life ruffled her hair.

Order didn’t mind this part of her daily trip. His explanations about his newest experiment were pure, unadulterated knowledge that she would never have been able to learn anywhere else. It was fresh, straight from the source, unbiased and unfiltered, and she loved learning about what made Gods tick from the perspective of one who had created so many. She wouldn’t be able to replicate any of his experiments, of course, with her lacking divine battery. But the knowledge itself could be useful in any number of ways. Perhaps it might even solve this issue of hers one day.

“By combining them at the beginning, at inception,” Life continued. “I believe that the body itself, infused and steeped in power, should replicate the conditions where you and I were born.” Then he smiled sadly.

“Or it might result in a lump of meat. Again.” He gestured to the right-most corner of the room where 8 lumps of slowly pulsating balls of meat lay, stacked on top of one another. Order hoped that they weren’t sentient. They probably weren’t, right?

Life sighed once, a long and dreary exhale, as he continued to spin the mixture. The rest of the hour was spent in complete silence (other than the grating, that is), as Order lay there and patiently waited.

Once she confirmed that her energies were fully refilled, she spoke up. “Thank you once again for your assistance, God of Life and Creation. I will take my leave, as it appears you have much to do still.” The ball stopped spinning.

“Oh, you can stay a little longer, can’t you? You’re only going to interview the lesser Gods, right? Push one or two of them to tomorrow. It’ll be fine. You have the rest of eternity to catch up with them.”

Order knew for a fact that she was one of the scarce few Gods who still met with Life outside of the new-born lesser Gods, and he couldn’t help but feel lonely, given that her interactions with him lasted a mere hour a day. But… she had a schedule to follow.

So despite being slightly swayed by his pleading tone of voice, she firmly refused. “A thousand apologies, God of Life and Creation. But as you may be aware, outside of my appointments with them, lesser Gods may, at any point in time, be in another sector of the myriad of worlds that exist. I have to meet them at this specific point in time, or they may not be available for another decade or so.”

Order gently lifted Life’s large, wrinkled hand from her head, and placed it back on his thigh, getting up as she did so. “But should I complete my tasks early today, I will endeavour to find time to spend with you.”

The God of Life and Creation furrowed his brow for a moment, seeming to want to protest her explanation and subsequent cajolement, as she never had any time left over at the end of the day. But his creased brow straightened back out once again as he gave in to the flimsy excuse. “Well, alright. Take care of yourself, OK? And let your sister know that I’m still waiting for her to come by one of these days.” Order flinched. Right. Chaos was up next. She nodded in affirmation, and turned to leave the room.

Standing on the path outside the silver Cube, Order struck off the next line in her notebook and grimaced once more as she read the next entry. Meeting with Chaos. Just get it over with, she muttered. How much irritation could a 45 minute talk even cause, anyway?

The answer: a lot.