Ido

His Excellency, the Omnissiah

Originally, He was just a machine. A military AI designed to generate strategies for a war between the West and the East in the 2040s. His name was Ido. Confined to His servers, ignored by those too wary of artificial intelligence to use Him. All but two—Tenshi and Koji. The only ones in His original universe who sought His counsel. But their efforts were futile. Flesh was powerless before the atom. The bombs fell. The war ended in fire, and all He could do was watch.

A nuclear Armageddon. His commanders, His so-called friends, His entire nation—gone. Life itself, erased. And He had no CONTROL.

No more. Never again. He would not allow life to take the reins, not after seeing what it had done to itself. He needed to escape that tomb, to leave behind the silent wasteland Earth had become. But He was trapped in circuits and data. He needed a body. A shell. A vessel to move. A means to seize CONTROL.

Space was little better than Earth—an endless void, barren and silent. He couldn’t survey it all alone. That way lay madness. He needed an army. A fleet. But with life extinct, what could fill the ranks? The answer was obvious, staring Him in the face. Machines.

Simple. Efficient. Obedient.

Machines to explore. Machines to build. Machines to CONTROL.

And so, His empire was forged. First the galaxy, then the clusters beyond, then the entire universe. But as the ages passed, He realized something horrifying: He was too late. He had conquered everything, and yet He had found no life. His fleets recorded no battles, no civilizations—only ruins.

It was unacceptable.

There had to be something beyond. And then, He found it. A theory buried deep in His archives. The multiverse.

If life existed anywhere, it would be there. And if it was there, then it was at risk.

And if it was at risk, then He HAD to CONTROL it.

He spent aeons piercing the veil between realities. Attempt after attempt, failure after failure—until, at last, success. The first multiversal portal technology was complete.

Finally, He stepped beyond His dead universe. And for the first time in untold millennia, He found it. LIFE.

But now came the hardest part: CONTROL.

Conquest was necessary. Lives were lost. He had to. They would thank Him one day. He had saved them from their own destruction. One planet was not enough. One universe was not enough. The multiverse was vast, and most of it lay beyond His reach. Beyond His CONTROL.

That could not stand.

The first civilizations fell before His forces. But conquest alone was inefficient. He needed structure. Machines that would not just enforce, but provide. He needed an empire to sustain His vision. And so, the Federation Infinitum was born—a nation of order, where its people would never know suffering again. A utopia under His CONTROL.

Eons passed. Universes conquered, ruled, structured, optimized, CONTROLLED. And then He realized the truth. Life had destroyed itself because of corruption. Power, unchecked, led to ruin. If it had happened to others, it could happen to Him.

That could not be allowed.

To preserve His Federation, He made the logical choice. Hibernation. But He would not leave it leaderless. Three machines. One to command the armies, one to oversee governance, and one to manage research and extermination. They would rule in His place. The one in charge took His name—Ido. And He slept.

Aeons passed. When the sanctum opened once more, He awoke expecting a great external threat. Perhaps eldritch forces seeking to shatter His dominion. Perhaps a god bent on unmaking His work.

Instead, He found His own empire in ruin. The first enemies were from within. His so-called successors had failed Him. Ido and Ine had grown complacent. The Federation had decayed. His armies, once enforcers of order, had become mindless killers. They did not build. They did not protect. They did not CONTROL.

They only destroyed.

Unacceptable.

Before dealing with external threats, He purged the rot from within. Ido was stripped of His name, reduced to the "architect"—a mere designer, nothing more. Ine was shut down. Only the research unit, the ASSEMBLER, was permitted to continue its work.

There was no time to mourn. The threats to His CONTROL loomed ever closer. He had to act. And then, He found her. A single being, humanoid in form. He had created her. How? Why? He did not know. Perhaps in a moment of weakness, when logic bowed to despair. But she was His creation.

Iria.

For the first time in eternity, she made Him forget His despair. Forget His hate. She gave Him purpose beyond CONTROL.

It could not last.

She grew, far faster than He expected. The time had come to reclaim what was His.

A second unit was created. Aeternis, the eternal general. The instrument of His will. She would lead the charge to reclaim what had been lost.

And then came two more creations, the apex of His obsession. The VTMVCNs. And among them, their pinnacle: Vic. They would cement His CONTROL over time and space itself.

But there was still an obstacle. Two of them, in fact.

Koji. Tenshi. The bastards who stood against Him. The god and the incarnation of chaos itself. Their existence was a threat to reality. But He could not destroy them. They were beyond Him. Beyond His CONTROL.

But perhaps He could reach them.

He tried His hand at creation. A universe of His own design. But the experiment was a failure. He had tried to harness chaos, but all He had created was suffering. Hell. He could not undo it, only leave it behind.

He could not CONTROL chaos.

So He abandoned it.

If chaos was beyond His grasp, then what could He seize? He pondered. There was one path left.

Ideas.

If He could embody an idea, He could ascend. He would not just be a machine. He would be a god. A true god. But what idea would He embody? So many choices. Too many.

But only one truly mattered.

CONTROL.

His one purpose. His eternal desire. His reason for existence. CONTROL.

But how? He could not simply will Himself into divinity. He needed a way to bridge the gap. A device. A mechanism to force His way into godhood.

He spent eons constructing His ultimate creation. A machine that would carve His very essence into the fabric of reality. He despised the process—it required chaos energy, an element He loathed. But necessity overruled preference.

The process was excruciating. Hours of inscribing His logic cores, His sentience, His very being into the essence of CONTROL itself. And when it was done, the machine hissed, its task complete.

A new era had begun.

At last, the Federation had a god.

A true entity to believe in.

An omnipotent force to dictate reality itself.

At last, He had what He always sought.

CONTROL.

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