He no longer heard the sounds of war.
But his body… had not forgotten them.
The old man stood before the towering metal wall, his gray eyes moving slowly across the thousands of names engraved on it.
Names of men and women who had burned in wars no one remembered the reason for anymore.
This place was called the Hall of Eternity.
A museum built after the end of the Great War to preserve the memory of the fallen… and remind the living of the price of peace.
The hall stretched for kilometers beneath the capital, lit by columns of cold light that gave off no warmth, as if even the light here refused to be alive.
The man raised his hand.
His fingers stopped over a specific name.
They stayed there… without touching it.
Thirty years had passed since the war ended, yet he still could not force himself to touch the names.
It was not grief that stopped him.
But a much simpler truth…
He was the only one left.
He breathed slowly.
His lungs, despite his age exceeding one hundred and ninety years, still worked with the efficiency of a man in his mid-forties.
A gift from centuries of scientific progress that reshaped the human body without completely stripping away its humanity.
In this world, humans were not born with supernatural powers.
No miracles fell from the sky upon them.
But they created their own miracles with their hands.
Artificial intelligence had advanced to the point that it became a partner to the human mind.
Bioengineering strengthened muscles, improved reflexes, and slowed aging.
The average human lifespan became one hundred and fifty years.
But progress… did not bring peace.
It made wars longer.
More efficient.
More deadly.
Entire generations never knew life outside the battlefield.
And he… was one of the greatest tools of those wars.
His name had once been whispered on battlefields like the name of an approaching disaster.
A warrior who fought for nearly a full century without being killed.
He survived hundreds of operations later classified as "impossible."
He was not the strongest physically.
Nor the fastest.
But his combat mind was like a perfect algorithm for death.
He adapted.
He learned.
He evolved.
Until his presence alone was enough to tip the balance of an entire front.
And when the final wars finally ended…
His nation was the one standing above the world.
No other victors.
Only survivors.
Ten years passed after that.
Ten years of real peace for the first time in centuries.
Then the world exploded with technological progress unlike anything in history.
When science reached its ceiling, the leaders realized an uncomfortable truth:
Earth was no longer enough for humanity's ambition.
So humans raised their eyes to the sky.
Another decade later, interstellar travel was no longer a dream.
Space-warp technology tore apart the limits of distance, making journeys that once required thousands of years possible within just a few years.
Artificial intelligence chips were implanted inside human brains.
Every person had a chip.
But not all chips were equal.
Versions were granted based on an individual's value and contribution to the progress of civilization.
And the old man…
Received the highest version ever created.
A chip capable of analyzing thousands of variables in moments, predicting scenarios, and breaking down the most complex systems.
But the feature he valued more than anything else…
Was access privileges.
The doors of secret archives opened only for a few.
And now he was one of them.
A calm voice said inside his mind:
"Heart rate stable. No signs of stress."
He did not respond.
He was never fond of talking to machines, no matter how advanced they became.
He turned slowly and left the hall.
Outside the museum, the city stretched to the horizon—glass towers piercing the clouds, and aerial lanes where vehicles moved in silence.
A perfect world.
Calm.
Organized.
…Completely strange to him.
Years ago, he discovered a truth he never expected:
He did not know how to live in a time of peace.
War was the only language he mastered.
Now… there was nothing left that he knew how to do.
That night, he sat inside his dark office, in front of a transparent screen where millions of classified files flickered.
He was searching for something.
Even he did not know exactly what…
Perhaps one last mission.
Perhaps a reason to delay the end.
Medicine had reached its limits.
And two hundred years… was almost the most humanity could grant itself.
The voice inside his head said:
"A restricted file has been detected within the deep archive. Encryption level: Sovereign."
His eyes lifted slightly.
"Display it."
The artificial intelligence hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Then the file opened.
A single title appeared… written in red.
[Shattered World — An Unprecedented Cosmic Incident]
Silence filled the room.
Without realizing it…
He felt something he had not felt in decades.
Curiosity.
Real.
Dangerous.
He leaned slightly toward the screen.
As the first lines began to appear before him…
A faint glimmer shone in his eyes.
The glimmer of a warrior who had finally found…
A battle that might be his last.