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In a vast family, brothers and sisters ought to go their separate ways after birth. That was all the more true if you were merely a personality mask of your father or mother, an avatar, and might even merge with your siblings in the middle of fighting them.
In the beginning, although the force of convergence was strong, the newborn gods still had some room to pursue individuality.
When God Almighty first became God Almighty, the universe was not what it was now. There was little life, little of anything; the starry sky was still simply the universe.
Time was boundless, space endless, but the celestial bodies were lifeless. Few shone, and few had anything on them.
He knew there were many things in the universe. He knew everything. He knew that this dust and these unremarkable solids would gradually condense into one celestial body after another over the billions of years to come, that gravity and all sorts of other forces would shape those bodies into nebulae or asteroid belts. If some celestial bodies capable of giving off light and heat happened to be near a planet with water, that would just barely constitute a petri dish. Over the next few hundred thousand years, there was a chance something would grow in it-perhaps bacteria, perhaps viruses.
At the same time, he knew the names of all his siblings. Their authorities and personalities were all in God Almighty's omniscient database, while he himself was one of the most powerful avatars among the offspring. No one would come bother him for no reason. He could freely enjoy his solitude.
And so, over the long years, God Almighty gradually found his mission and his hobby: raising the native life of certain planets.
Whether this was the Oldest One's personality or a