In the beginning, a God rose to power. By the end, that same God had fallen and died.
God died, and was left floating in a void. Nothing existed in this space, just a dead God and a voice.
"Such a shame, isn't it?" said the Voice to the fell God. "And to think it could've been avoided if you had simply chosen a different gift."
The God grimaced. "What do you want?" he asked.
The Voice laughed. "Want? No, I'm here to offer. I offer you a chance to rewrite history. Go back, save those you couldn't."
"And what do you get from it? Amusement? Sadistic thrill? My soul?" the God asked.
"Nothing so crude," the Voice said. "I'm just… dissatisfied. If anyone could have killed the head, it would have been you. It was a shame that you never even got a chance to face him."
The God let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"You said my mistake was choosing the wrong gift. But you don't have the power to send me that far back. Not as you are now. So what is it you actually expect me to change?"
The Voice replied, amused, "I want you to change someone else's future. I'll send you a person, and from there it's in your hands. What you do with them could change everything."
The God thought for a moment, unconvinced. "And that alone would stop the fall? Who could be that important?"
The Voice laughed. It was a genuine laugh, one full of joy and anticipation.
"I want you to change his future. He's younger than you, you know? And yet, he held the power to kill every single one of you pathetic worms."
The God felt his breath hitch. He knew. He knew who the Voice meant. And yet, he still prayed he was wrong. The Voice, almost savoring his torment, whispered the name anyway.
"I'm referring to the Archangel of Chaos."