Before everything that exists — before stars, planets, the laws of physics or even your will to procrastinate — there was chaos.
Pure, raw chaos, crammed with information like a hard drive full of games.
And then, somehow, everything started to align.
From the void and disorder, _He_ was born — the first being.
To some, a god; to others, a creative force. But to me?
An emo.
Yes, you read that right.
The most powerful being in the universe appeared with straightened hair, a fringe covering half his face, black clothes, and an existential aura any teenager would relate to.
I'm not saying he was sad… just dramatically bored.
At first, it was fun for him.
With a snap of his fingers, he created stars.
With another, planets. Entire galaxies formed at his whim.
He created everything the mind — or insanity — could imagine: from black holes and upside-down worlds, to a species that repeats whatever it hears.
But eventually, a strange feeling crept in. A void. A sort of "I did all this, now what?"
Maybe it was dissatisfaction. Or simply… boredom.
Yes, Boredom — with a capital B.
He already knew everything. After all, he created it.
Nothing surprised him anymore.
He made bizarre creatures: a sponge that flips burgers underwater, a duck that talks like a three-pack-a-day smoker, and even a ruthless wizard duck.
Legend has it he was the first to play Solitaire. But in the end, he's the one who lost patience.
In an exaggerated attempt, he threw himself into a star.
The result? Not even a tan.
His body, made of divine essence, didn't get a single scratch. Just more boredom… and a faint smell of barbecue.
That's when he had a 'brilliant' idea.
If he couldn't entertain himself, why not split part of his power into someone who would?
And that's when I was born.
His other half. The rational, sarcastic, and infinitely more attractive part.
Possessor of all knowledge — or rather, _Omniscience_ — yes, with a capital letter too.
And that came at a cost: the creator lost a good chunk of his brain in the process — not literally.
Now he has the intellectual depth of a depressed toaster.
I remember the moment I woke up very well. It went something like this:
『— There you are, my masterpiece. I'll call you... uh... Omnimaru, maybe?
— Now I can finally get rid of my boredom. Entertain me, Omnimaru!』 — he said, with enthusiasm written all over his face.
『— Wait a second, are you telling me that you, a multiversal cosmic emo, created me just to entertain you for the rest of my existence?』 — with clear indignation on my face.
『— Are you planning to screw me or something?』
...
『— Yes. I mean no. I mean... ah, screw it.』
And that's how I became this guy's babysitter.
I say that with all due respect — none.
His name is Omê, in case you haven't figured it out by now.
I'm the voice of reason... or at least I try to be.
— Omnimaru! Stop writing that crap and come do something! — he shouted from the other side of infinity, with the patience of a pigeon in a bank line.
I take back what I said.
There's no advantage at all in looking after this idiot.