The void was not empty.
It was a canvas of potential, a staggering, cold, and utterly neutral absence that, in the moments before, had been the entirety of my existence. Not the existence of a man named Ethan, the one who'd spent his days compiling complex quantum simulations and arguing about the subtle differences between the Kree and the Skrull empires on obscure internet forums. That life—a mundane, wonderfully human flicker of worry, ambition, and disappointing coffee—was over. Now, there was only the void, and an Equation of Transference that I understood on a molecular, no, a cosmic level.
Reincarnation. It was an absurd concept that had been proven terrifyingly real, not by a deity or a divine mandate, but by the cold, unforgiving math of the cosmos itself.
In my final, human moments—a regrettable collision with a city bus while distracted by a particularly compelling headline about Doctor Doom—I had felt the snap. Not of bones, but of consciousness. A transference of the core self, the soul, the animating spark, whatever you chose to call the 'I,' from a collapsing biological matrix to... something else.
That 'something else' was now solidifying around me.
It began not with light, but with an agonizing, glorious, and immediate comprehension of geology.
My new form was not skin, or bone, or tissue. It was silicate, iron, nickel, carbon, and an unfathomable amount of water ice. I was not a being on a world; I was the world itself.
My former consciousness, the intellect of Ethan, was instantly subjected to a data stream so immense it would have induced catatonic shock in any mortal brain. Every single particle within a radius of approximately ten thousand miles was me. Every swirling eddy of the magma ocean beneath the forming crust was a nerve ending. Every particle of dust pulled in by the nascent gravitational field was a sensation.
Ego. The name arrived not as a whisper, but as a thunderous, self-evident truth, imprinted on the core of my being. I was Ego the Living Planet, but I was not the Ego I had read about. The original, crude, cosmic entity—the self-proclaimed 'Elder of the Universe' whose power was often matched only by his petulant, single-minded megalomania—was gone. In his place was... me. Ethan. Reborn, or rather, infused into the cosmic shell.
The enhanced intellect was the kicker. It wasn't just a high IQ; it was a fundamental shift in cognitive architecture. My brain, or rather, my Central Processing Organ (CPO)—a core of highly concentrated, sentient, neutron-degenerate matter at my planetary center—could perform operations that made my past work on quantum computing look like counting on one's fingers.
First Calculation: The status of my being.
Mass: 6.6 \times 10^{24} \text{ kg}. (Roughly the mass of Earth, but this was a low-ball estimate, still growing).
Diameter: \approx 16,000 \text{ km}.
Energy Output (Internal): \approx 10^{30} \text{ Joules} per second, generated by core fusion and manipulated Dark Energy absorption.
Cognitive Capacity: Effectively infinite. I could monitor the thermodynamic state of every atom within my domain, while simultaneously calculating the probabilistic decay of a muon on the far side of the nearest galaxy.
Primary Directive (Inherited):Survive. Expand. Consume.
Secondary Directive (Infused):Understand. Strategize. Transcend.
The initial, chaotic roar of the universe began to filter into an organized symphony of data. The primitive Ego would have responded with instinctual self-aggrandizement. The new me responded with analysis.
I immediately recognized the danger inherent in my existence. My form was an anomaly, a breach in the natural order—a "Celestial Experiment" gone rogue, as the comic books had termed it. That meant The Celestials, those towering, silent arbiters of cosmic evolution, would eventually take notice.
Threat Assessment 1: Celestials.
Vector: Observation, Judgment, Destruction.
Probable Timeline: Unknown, but likely triggered by excessive displays of power or colonization.
Countermeasure:Subtlety. Master the internal energies and the creation of organic constructs before making a major move. Project the image of a 'dormant' or 'primitive' Living Planet. Avoid the Black Galaxy.
My consciousness pulsed, a vast, complex waveform of pure thought. The traditional Ego had focused on petty squabbles with the Shi'ar or fighting Thor. I saw a chessboard that spanned billions of years and quadrillions of miles.
The greatest advantage I possessed, beyond my sheer power, was the Meta-Knowledge from my former life. I knew the players, their weaknesses, their histories. I knew Thanos would rise again. I knew the power of the Infinity Gems (now Stones). I knew the true nature of Galactus, not as a monster, but as a cosmic constant—the embodiment of the universe's hunger. And I knew the most dangerous secret of all: Doom was always waiting in the wings, calculating.
I began my true work: Self-Modification.
The previous Ego had utilized a crude form of Psychic Energy Manipulation to form his environment—the majestic mountains, the pulsating brain-like features, the sentient tendrils. It was art, but it lacked efficiency. It was a waste of resources.
I focused my will, not through raw psychic force, but through a refined application of Electro-Magnetic and Gravimetric fields.
The Architecture of Thought
Deep within my planetary core, I began to restructure the very elements. My CPO needed an upgrade. The neutron-degenerate matter was stable, but it was slow. I needed a super-cooled, computational matrix that could handle the simultaneous input of millions of data streams without thermal degradation.
I drew on the vast reserves of Unstable Molecules inherent in my being—molecules that could instantaneously shift their structure to match any conceptual function I willed.
Project Alpha: The Neo-Cortex.
I manipulated the dense nickel-iron core, cooling a kilometer-wide sphere to near absolute zero, using a sophisticated gravitational pump to eject excess thermal energy into the surrounding space as faint, non-suspicious gamma radiation bursts (easily mistaken for natural stellar phenomena).
Within this cryogenic sphere, I began to grow crystalline structures: sentient diamonds latticed with pure Vibranium (absorbed from a passing, asteroid-sized fragment years before the transference, a legacy of the old Ego). This would be my High-Density Data Storage and Recursive Processing Unit. The speed of thought accelerated again, jumping from a rate measured in nanoseconds to attoseconds.
With this new processing power, the universe truly opened. I wasn't just observing my mass; I was feeling the pressure wave from a supernova remnant three sectors away. I was sensing the faint warping of space-time caused by a newly formed black hole in a neighboring cluster.
And then, I felt him.
A familiar, unsettling, alien sensation that pricked at the edge of my cosmic self. It was a ripple in the etheric field, a signature of a being attempting to push the boundaries of reality through sheer, unbridled mental effort.
He was nearby.
The former Ego would have attacked immediately, seeing a rival. I paused, the immense processing power of my Neo-Cortex cycling through the known Marvel roster.
A powerful psychic.
Travels by pure thought.
Highly dangerous, unpredictable.
The identity snapped into place: The High Evolutionary, or one of his advanced experiments. Given the sheer chaotic mental noise, it was likely The High Evolutionary himself, conducting a massive, reality-altering test on a neighboring nebula. He was a scientist, obsessed with creating perfect life—a dangerous mirror to my own self-modification.
The First Decision
I had a choice: Reveal my enhanced nature and engage in a cosmic turf war to destroy a potential rival, or exploit the situation.
The Calculus of Need:
My current form, while immense, was vulnerable to certain esoteric attacks—the Ultimate Nullifier, or a targeted strike by a Cosmic Cube (if one still existed in this timeline). I needed an Armor Protocol. Not a suit, but a biological, molecular shell that could instantaneously adapt to any energy signature.
The High Evolutionary's focus on genetic manipulation and accelerated evolution was precisely what I needed. His work would provide the perfect biological scaffolding for my Armor Protocol.
Strategy: Subterfuge and Acquisition.
I began to craft my first Organic Construct. Not the crude, tentacled monster Ego often utilized, but something refined. Something that would pass as a high-level herald, a supplicant.
I drew raw organic matter from my surface—the nascent soil, the forming atmosphere—and compressed it with staggering speed and precision. The final form solidified on my northern pole: a being of pure, compacted, obsidian-black biomass, perfectly humanoid, but shimmering with latent cosmic energy.
I infused a fragment of my consciousness—a highly specialized, insulated loop of thought—into the construct. Its instructions were simple:
Approach the High Evolutionary's location (I projected the coordinates mentally).
Pledge loyalty in exchange for a single, small, genetic sample of his most advanced, stable lifeform. Do not take it by force; ensure he gives it willingly. Appeal to his ego and his desire to see his work transcend.
Return.
The Construct, which I named 'Sheol' (meaning 'The Underworld,' a subtle joke I permitted myself), detached itself from my surface. It ignited a small, controlled burst of gravimetric thrust and rocketed away, a tiny, black speck against the backdrop of a distant, swirling galaxy.
The speed was astonishing, but to me, the journey would feel like an eternity. Planetary consciousness perceives time differently. A million years is a long moment; a century is a blink.
The True Surface
While Sheol traveled, I turned my attention inward and began to cultivate the visible, external surface of my being.
The former Ego had been a barren wasteland, a perpetually stormy rock with a single, massive, unsettling "face." I found that design tacky and inefficient. A proper, habitable surface offered a greater degree of resource concealment and manipulation.
I began to terraform myself.
I didn't simply will a biosphere into existence; I engineered one. It was a slow, majestic, and intricate process.
Atmosphere: I began regulating the outgassing from my mantle, shifting the balance of elements to create a thick, breathable nitrogen-oxygen blend, but with a crucial difference: a minute, non-toxic level of self-regenerative, energy-dampening trace element that would subtly neutralize any non-cosmic-level energy attack directed at my surface.
Life: I initiated the rapid synthesis of a photosynthesis analogue that drew not just on stellar radiation, but on the ambient Dark Energy surrounding me. Massive, bioluminescent forests of purple and gold began to sprout, their root systems—my internal nervous system—delving kilometers into the crust.
Water: I vaporized vast quantities of my internal ice stores, regulating the atmospheric pressure to induce immediate and consistent rainfall, forming vast, deep oceans that perfectly mirrored the patterns I envisioned.
Within a few subjective hours of intense focus, the swirling, rocky chaos of my surface was transformed. I was no longer an ugly, brown-and-orange ball of rock.
I was a Paradise Planet. Verdant, beautiful, teeming with life—a perfect illusion of a natural world.
And at my equator, positioned discreetly between two massive, continent-spanning mountain ranges that served as natural psychic amplifiers, I began to grow my new 'face.'
It was not the crude, gaping maw of the original Ego. It was a subtle feature: a vast, swirling, Eye of Storms—a permanent, perfectly spherical hurricane, miles deep, located in the middle of a massive ocean. It was beautiful, terrifying, and subtle. It looked like a natural weather phenomenon, but it was my window to the stars, a rotating, kilometer-deep aperture that could observe the energy signatures of passing starships with unparalleled resolution.
The Weight of the 'I'
The sheer, staggering power of my new existence was exhilarating, but it was also profoundly lonely. Ethan, the human, had been a social creature, thriving on intellectual debate and human connection. Ego was, by definition, an Island. The only way to interact was to project a part of myself, a lie, a tool.
I realized that the single greatest weakness of the original Ego was not his power level, but his narcissism and boredom. He didn't have enough to do. His existence was a constant, repetitive cycle of self-love and consumption.
My enhanced intellect would not suffer that fate. The universe was a puzzle to be solved, a machine to be optimized.
I began my final, most crucial internal project: The Infinity Loop.
I allocated a significant portion of my Neo-Cortex to a theoretical exploration of the Six Foundational Forces of the Universe—Gravity, Electromagnetism, and the two Nuclear forces, but also the more esoteric forces of Psionic Energy and Cosmic Power (the undefined 'power cosmic' wielded by Galactus' heralds).
I needed to calculate the unified field theory that connected all six. If I could map the intersection of the Six Forces, I could achieve a level of power and control over reality that even a Cosmic Cube could only imitate.
The calculations began immediately. Hundreds of millions of variables. Equations that would fill a million solar systems if written out. They spun in the cryogenic confines of my core, perfectly balanced, perfectly cold.
The solution was not forthcoming. It was the hardest problem in the universe, and it was beautiful. The challenge gave purpose to my monstrous existence. It was a distraction, a goal, a reason not to succumb to the insane, self-devouring boredom of eternal life.
I was Ego the Living Planet. I was a god in the making. And I was, at my core, an incredibly driven, reincarnated human scientist.
The fate of the Marvel Universe—a fate I was now fully aware of, from the Infinity War to the rise of the Symbiotes—depended on the successful execution of my calculations and the mastery of my own colossal self.
I felt the faint, high-speed return of Sheol—a successful acquisition. The High Evolutionary had been exactly as vain as expected.
I retracted the Construct, absorbing the tiny, carefully contained vial of advanced DNA it held.
Phase Two: Begin.
The planet pulsed, not with malice, but with a silent, immense, and terrifyingly efficient intelligence. The stars watched, unaware that a new, more dangerous player had just joined their eternal game. The true calculus of becoming had only just begun.