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Earth (or Blue Star) was actually a very interesting place, he thought.
Twenty-two pathways were gathered here, and twenty-two true gods might be born. That was a miracle unimaginable anywhere else in the universe.
Leaving aside the Old Earth Civilization and removing this tedious barrier, he might have liked this miracle.
If the gods were willing to follow the laws of the Starry Sky, fighting and slaughtering one another, supporting their respective favored races, granting them unique abilities or blessings according to their pathways, and developing different civilizations that were continually refined and eliminated through war, then he would like this place. Without a doubt.
He would willingly spend thousands upon thousands of years near this planet, observing everything that happened within, collecting intelligence and information, and cursing them with prosperity, blessing them with destruction. Such frequent, high-quality wars would promote convergence, and eventually this place would become the center of the universe, as well as the place where the Oldest One awakened. One of his kind would emerge victorious, as though collecting every piece of a puzzle. And once the puzzle was complete, it would lose its value; scrambling it again would become the only outcome. Everything in the universe would carry on as before, and after a momentary death, the gods would once again greet eternal life.
We are all part of the Oldest One. We are all his children.
We accomplish nothing, follow our instincts, cross the Starry Sky, devour and complete ourselves, quiet or frenzied, fighting and dying, all so that when everything begins anew, we may become the Oldest One (the Final One) who rules over everything.
The gods might disagree about restarting the universe, but plundering power to become the Oldest One was something they all agreed on.
When the Creator-well, only within