"Are you ready to take this responsibility, Azeur?"

There were swiveling blue mists around a miniature seed, a little pellet that glowed like gold. A lifeless object hovering at the empty galaxy, the stars kept glittering while it tried to form into a possible planet. Sometimes he wondered if he could be successful at the end of this but the very last words of his father before he died gave him the hope and strength to continue. Amidst the suffering he felt from the sudden loss, he kept his promise.

"Yes, dad. I will do it."

He could still remember his smile before he became cold and limp. Just another event for others but for him, it was a very important part of his soul taken away forever.

How long should he wait, he never knew. All that mattered was this - the seed should become a World Core. If this would happen, then he was halfway done and the rest would be easy. Sometimes he cursed the Mighty God, why he allowed him to become a cursed Planet Maker. But it was useless to cry over spilled milk, he got to do what he got to do.

He needed to create a planet to overcome the curse. To extend his life, he needed that World Core.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

A million years had passed and he was on the verge of death. Will he die, that was the thought that kept bothering him.

But something happened, a rare thing that gave him a chance.

The seed that he guarded all his life bloomed into a World Core. The mists surrounding it became bodies of water. Then the core expanded until it shook greatly that the solid parts were altered, crushed, changed, even broken. Soon, the trembling stopped and everything settled down. Slowly but surely, continents were formed. Volcanoes, even the hills and mountains, were scattered across the planet.

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Lifeforms began to emerge. But they were weak. They needed a Planet maker's support to survive.

What he intended to do would destroy the planet. He needed to consume the World Core to live but surviving means killing these puny creatures.

So should he curse the Mighty God for his affliction, this was debatable.

When he was about to do what he ought to do, he saw a human. Yes, the first creature he saw was a human being.

He observed him - yes, he was really weak. But did it matter? He was powerful yet he was sentenced to death because of this disease. But when he looked at his face, he was shocked. Yes, he saw his father in him.

Was this a funny joke - a masterpiece of the Mighty God because he found it funny that he suffer?

The more he looked, the more he could see their uncanny resemblance.

From the way he looked to the way he moved, even to his simple gestures of eating, they were eerily similar. He was about to investigate closely when he felt the pain inside his body growing stronger.

He needed to make a decision. Now. Because anytime, he would die.

He closed his eyes and asked, "Father, what should I do?"

Then a soft whisper, a caressing voice filled his mind. "You got to do what you got to do."

At last, he knew exactly what his decision should be.

With a loud voice, he shouted, "A third of my soul will bless the land. Magic will come and power shall prosper. Let the ground bear fruits and food to sustain life. May the creations live long, showering them with wonders so they can protect themselves from harm. Oh, my soul, hear this prayer of mine!"

His body shone like a dazzling star but his face was distorted in agony. His lips and eyes began to bleed, yet he stood laughing and proud.

With a loud voice, he shouted again, "A third of my soul will bless humanity. Even though you live shortly yet you will rule the world. Thrones upon thrones, kingdom upon kingdom will rise and fall. There will be no limit, you can do anything and die like a short-lived star. Prosper and live. Fill the world with your kind. Oh, my soul, hear this prayer of mine!"

This time, greater waves of pain attacked his body as part of his soul flew away. His body was covered in wounds, he was bleeding all over. He could barely stand but he still needed to do one last thing before he died.

With a loud voice, he shouted for the last time, "A third of my soul will be my incarnate. Thousands of years shall pass, the living lives and dies, yet there comes a time when a boy shall be born, and he will continue my legacy."

His body was slowly falling, his eyes that were once bright were dimming. Yet before his body hit the ground, he said, "His name will be Azeur, my Incarnate."