Hello, everyone.
I'm Jack.
At least… that's the name I gave myself.
You could call me a creator though not the Creator.
He shaped the universe in seven days.
I took twenty thousand years.
Twenty thousand years to carve a world so precise it almost felt alive.
A world that breathes, bleeds, and dreams.
Like Earth, it has humans, beasts, and countless races.
But not everyone wields power.
Some are born weak, some strong.
Because what's the point of a world without balance?
Even Batman lived among gods.
So, I made sure some would remain ordinary fragile, but human.
The hardest part wasn't raising mountains or painting skies.
It was crafting them
the gods of Life, Death, and everything in between.
Each one shaped from fragments of my own soul.
Each one flawless… and dangerous.
When my work was done, I rested.
Not for a day.
Not for a century.
But for a million years.
And in that time, the world I built forgot me.
My name faded from tongues.
My temples turned to dust.
My statues crumbled beneath vines.
The god who once ruled creation became a myth
then a memory
then nothing.
When I finally opened my eyes again, I didn't roar.
I didn't demand worship.
I laughed.
Because after all this time…
I wanted to live inside the world I made.
To walk among the mortals.
To see what they'd become without their god.
So I chose a name Jack.
Simple. Human. Forgettable.
I enrolled in a school.
I learned their ways.
I walked their streets.
I listened to their stories.
And as I lived among them, I realized something
They didn't need gods anymore.
They needed strength.
Will.
And chaos.
This isn't the story of a creator.
It's the story of a god who was forgotten
and decided to start over.
A god who walks as one of his own creations.