The universe knew it was in danger. It felt something akin to a prick on skin and immediately "looked" at the source. It was a hole in the fabric of the universe. While the universe could usually repair itself in a few hundred years, this was different.

It was a hand. The hand seemed living with what looked like black mites moving around on it. The hand may be to the universe, but it was massive. It could grasp a solar system and still have room.

The universe instinctively tried to force it out but as it did, the mites detached from the hand and swam around space. Almost as if guided, the mites instinctively swam in the direction of the closest planet and swarmed it. When the black cloud of death moved, the planet was gone.

With a frantic "shove", the universe forced the hand out but it was too late, the damage was done. The mites had entered like a virus, and would not leave. Even worse, with every planet consumed, they grew in numbers. The universe tried to crush the mites but every time it tried, the power seemed to merely tickle them. Nothing it could throw at them would work, as strong as the attack was.

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With horror, the universe looked and knew. This was something beyond the normal operation of the universe.

And the universe, akin to a toddler still developing, was forced to grow. It did not grow by some miraculous power, but rather by the innate quality of the universe.

Every universe was made and grew to combat those beings. The power the universe controlled would have no effect, so every universe had to grow a defense force.

A normal universe would have trillions of years to develop a thriving race who controlled galaxies and could fight with power. This universe did not have that.

The universe scoured every inch of itself and could only find one suitable match. Humans.

With but a thought, the universe chose them. In the act of choosing, it could not create much to help the humans.

Humans were odd creatures to the universe, but it knew that humans would be the best choice for the first wave. They might all die, but the universe had no choice. It was forced to feed magic into the atmosphere in the form of a System.

The universe harnessed all the power and creativity it could as a toddler, and prepared for the humans.

The humans were its only hope, and it would be damned if they weren't the best.