By all accounts, Mikuli was a wanderer, a vagrant to some, but to him, Mikuli was an adventurer. Not a silly adventurer like others mind you–no dungeons to explore nor quests to fulfill–but a cosmic adventurer. 

The infinite expansion of the current universe Mikuli found himself in was slightly different than his own. He had heard tales from a friend of his, really his only friend, about his universe and the magical metals there. But that old fool was busy serving his own Master on some backwater planet that he seemed to favor. 

Mikuli didn't understand why his dear friend didn't come and explore every inch of infinity like he did, instead he just rather served God it seemed. Though unlike his friend, Mikuli never met God before, which slightly irked him.

By all means, Mikuli was a god himself. Not like God–God, but a smaller, less grandiose god. But still a god in his own right. 

"God likes to play favorites it seems," grumbled Mikuli as he passed through a cloud of meteors. These small rocks were rather annoying to him, though just one could destroy a whole planet. He's seen it happen on occasion but could never understand why those living on those planets couldn't just swat it away like he could. Well, those living on planets were small creatures after all. 

He had visited a couple of planets in his days, and by a couple, it was more around several billion. It was interesting to see some planets, though he would have to shrink himself down quite a bit if he would actually want to explore them. 

There were a couple of smaller planets that Mikuli was fairly fond of, though he'd never admit it. One planet in particular called Tras was one of the more interesting places Mikuli visited. Tras was built of rock and fire, the planet's surface was a fury of flames and molten rock which was in stark contrast to Tras' icy rings that swirled around the planet. It would be impossible by any standards of what some call science for life to be formed if it weren't for the magic that floated about. 

Tras was home to the Tranics, who were strange creatures. Born from the planet's magma, they eventually cooled to form their rocky, jagged bodies that leaked a fiery substance which they considered blood. No two Tranics ever looked the same, unlike the creatures called humans.

Humans were everywhere in creation. Every universe and almost every other planet had at least one human on them. Mikuli was more or less indifferent towards humans, though he supposed that he viewed them more positively considering his only friend looked human, though he certainly wasn't human any more. They usually died rather quickly but they had an unexplainable affinity towards magic which he enjoyed.

Exploring was fun for Mikuli, the others could never understand it. They would rather sit at the center of their respective universe and do nothing. Beings like himself, well, they just liked to loaf around. How boring. For Mikuli, exploring, wandering, adventuring, it was all he could ever do. It was his purpose. 

The Firsts, which is what beings like Mikuli called themselves, could never die and they certainly acted like it. All that looming around the cosmos never created a sense of urgency for any of them. So they sat around, saying nothing, doing nothing. 

Why? Mikuli thought to himself. "All of creation to explore, to see. All of infinity to travel. Why would any of the Firsts not want to see this!" he exclaimed into the void of space. Though no one could hear him.

Mikuli would never admit it, especially not to his dearest friend, but he was lonely in the vastness of creation. Hopping from one planet to the next universe was getting boring. A flicker of an idea passed through his mind. Maybe I should go visit Kyros and go see what the humans on his planet are up to?

 He dismissed the thought as he gazed outward toward the next star system. "It is a new horizon," he mumbled to himself. Something new, that is what Mikuli was really searching for. 

He passed by a number of solar systems, no life nor magic to be found on any of the planets he encountered. This was strange to Mikuli. No matter the universe, there were at least several planets with at least some life, and at the very least, there was magic.

"Come to think of it, I haven't run into any Firsts here either." Mikuli would at least see one or two by now. It never really mattered to him, as they would never say anything or even acknowledge Mikuli. But this was strange. There was no life, no Firsts, and no magic. 

Something was wrong in this universe. Mikuli usually dulled his senses, part of the fun of exploring was not knowing where anything was. Out of concern, he heightened his sight, just a little bit. Nothing. Nothing for a million lightyears away. He heightened his senses again, even more. Still nothing. 

"This is wrong, so very wrong." Where was God in all of this? This universe was dead. A feeling, something Mikuli, a cosmic god, one of the Firsts, had never felt before. It was fear. He never felt this way before, but he certainly recognized what it was. He heightened his senses again. Nothing.

"Again!" Nothing. "Again!" Still, nothing was alive in this universe. Another feeling, anxiousness, hit the cosmic god like an overwhelming meteor colliding with a dwarf planet. The fear and anxiety from the dead universe washed over him, feelings never felt before. This was not the excitement Mikuli was looking for. This was not the adventure he wanted. This universe was wrong, so very wrong.

Should I run? He thought. He could jump to another universe, one full of life and magic. He could forget about this forsaken universe all together, pretend it never happened. No, I can't run. Not now. 

Mikuli had never used his full power, always limiting himself. But he couldn't afford to limit himself any longer, not when there still was a chance. The universe, every universe is infinite, all he was looking for was just one chance. 

Then, Mikuli released himself. A bright explosion of light shot out over the ever expanding universe. Mikuli could see it all, every planet, every star, every atom. He saw it all. And then, in the farthest reaches of the universe, a new emotion emerged. Hope.

There was a faint sign of magic, and an even fainter sign of life. He raced through the cosmos, colliding with stars and planets alike. Billions and billions lightyears away flashed before him in an instant until he found it. But what Mikuli found, it was not life.

Scattered through space were the bodies of his own kin. Immortal, cosmic gods like himself floating in the emptiness of the universe. Dead. Hundreds of the Firsts, dead. As their magic slowly seeped out, their bodies and flesh soon rotted away, disintegrating to dust.

"No!" Mikuli screamed. "No! This isn't possible, we–we can't die! I cannot die!" But no one heard him. The horror from the corpses of gods shocked Mikuli. It almost broke him. It almost broke him. "Life, I sensed life." Mikuli frantically looked around him. He sensed magic, but it was only the fading magic of his kin. But, by all impossibility, the life he sensed did not come from them. 

But there, in the rubble of corpses, lied the life he sensed. Mikuli moved towards the life, passing the fallen gods, only their bones remaining. It was there he saw it. A metallic vessel, broken and injured. Mikuli had seen things like this many times and already knew what it was. It was a ship. It's elongated metallic structure, with spirals of metal loops circling the ship like that of planetary rings. There was life inside the ship. He reached out and gently held the craft on the tip of his finger. He looked inward, his vision passing through the walls and circuitry that made up the ship until he found it. Life–human life. 

What were humans doing here? But that didn't matter to Mikuli. Nothing else mattered that wasn't this. He knew what needed to be done. He looked around the lifeless corpses of the cosmic gods and Mikuli reached out one of his many hands. He might not be God, but he was still a First. 

As Mikuli extended his hand, he gripped his fist into a tight ball, sending all the fallen bodies into one another. With his third and fourth hands, he reached out and trapped the dissipating magic and returned its essence to the corpses. This would not revive his kin, that much Mikuli knew, but with his fifth and sixth hands, he began shaping the bodies, now most without flesh, whittled down to their bones, and began to form a sphere. A giant sphere, made from the corpses of gods, a new planet.

This was their only option, Mikuli's only option. For all of his power, for all of his magic, he could not bring the humans to another universe with life. No, he had to create it here.

From what he knew from his travels, magic can give life. He thought of the Tranics, their rocky and fiery bodies created from, by all accounts, an unsurvivable world. But these humans were not formed for this new planet. It would be difficult for them to survive, but survive they will. 

"The new planet is almost complete," Mikuli said as he held down the magic within the new atmosphere. He let go his grip on the magic, only for him to find out that it was slowly dissipating again. He could not have the magic run wild and disappear. He could hold onto it, but he could not control it. If he let go, the magic would dissipate from the new world. If he wished for life to come back to this universe, if he wished for the humans to live, he would have to stay here–forever.

Mikuli looked towards the human ship, the last dimming light of life in this infinite universe. 

"Perhaps I can stop exploring for a while."