In the beginning, there was nothing.

Then a god with powers great beyond imagination came to be and created a world. A marble with swirls of green and blue, so insignifigant in the black abyss that it might as well not have been there at all. But it was there, and soon the world had a purpose; the mighty god breathed life into it, filling the marble with plants, animals, and most importantly, man.

As man grew stronger, the world aged and the land changed. Once immense forests became mere patches of bare trunks, mountains melted into piles of rubble. Plants and animals that were once so abundant diminished and finally died, vanishing into nonexistence. Protective clouds were eaten away and allowed in vile poison. Parts of the land became cold and barren, bearing no life.

But still, man lived.

Acres of green earth gave way to cement and blacktop. Tall trees fell to make room for towers of metal and glass. Stone mountains belched smoke, and iron carriages kicked up exhaust. The world was slowly breaking, cracking under the pressure that had gradually built up.

And man lived on.

The god responsible for the crumblign world looked at his aging creation with disappointment. Truth be told, man had ruined everything. And so the god -- with power as terrible as it was great -- swept a hand over the world and put it to rest.

Mountains crumbled. Forests burned. Metal towers melted. Concrete cracked. Plants vanished. Animals disappeared.

And so, too, did man.

In the end, there was nothing.