The file was not long.
But every line in it… felt heavier than mere information.
The man sat without noticing, while the screen cast a pale light over his features, carved by years without breaking their hardness.
The first line appeared:
"Classification: Potential Cosmic Threat."
His eyes moved slowly.
"Object: Unnamed."
"Status: Continuous collapse since an indeterminate time."
He paused for a moment.
The voice in his mind spoke, emotionless:
"Spectral analysis indicates this world was supposed to collapse millions of years ago."
He asked calmly:
"Why?"
"Unknown."
It did not answer immediately.
It just continued reading.
All exploration missions lost.
No distress signals.
No wreckage.
No traces.
Complete disappearance.
As if the world… did not allow anyone to leave it.
Another line slid onto the screen, larger than the others, shaded in dark red:
"All future missions canceled."
Then—
"Probability of collapse into a black hole: 100%."
For the first time in many years… he felt something like real interest.
"Where is it?"
The AI answered immediately:
"In a galaxy near the Milky Way. The object is moving at an accelerated pace, and calculations indicate it will disappear from observable range within three years."
Three years.
For someone his age… it was not a long time.
Seconds of silence passed before he asked:
"Why were missions sent to an unstable object in the first place?"
"Due to unexplained energy readings. The radiation signature does not match any known cosmic model."
Then, after a fraction of a second, it added:
"Some scientists described it as… a world that refuses to die."
His fingers rested on the edge of the table.
A world that refuses to die.
A faint, barely-there smile passed over his lips.
He said:
"Prepare a reconnaissance mission request."
The AI went silent.
A rare occurrence.
"Is the request serious?"
"Yes."
"The logical recommendation: denial. Survival probability nearly zero."
He stood slowly.
His joints did not complain.
His body still obeyed him as it always had.
"Send the request."
The Sovereign Council convened hours later.
A vast hall, its ceiling so high that voices sounded smaller than they were.
One of the leaders spoke first, his voice tense:
"This is a suicide mission."
He did not argue.
It was not his way to waste words.
He simply said:
"I know."
Another leader intervened, her silver hair reflecting the cold light:
"You have given this world more than any human could. It is not logical to end your life this way."
He looked at them.
Faces that had not known war as he had.
He said:
"My life… ended long before you think."
A heavy silence followed.
He continued, without drama:
"I never married.
No children.
Everyone who fought by my side… is dead."
His eyes paused for a moment, then he continued:
"If I die there, I will lose nothing.
But if there is something that can benefit our world… it will be a meaningful death."
One leader lightly struck the table:
"A great warrior like you deserves an ending that fits. A funeral that honors your name. A grave people will visit."
This time… a clearer smile appeared.
Cold.
He said:
"It is shameful for a warrior… to die in his bed."
Then added, in a steady voice:
"The greatest honor for a soldier… is to fall while fulfilling his duty."
They found no reply.
They looked at each other.
And they all realized a simple truth:
This man… was not asking for permission.
He was declaring his decision.
After minutes of quiet discussion, the chief of the council finally said:
"…Then we will provide a Sovereign-class ship, with a full crew."
"No."
The refusal came immediately.
"I will not risk young lives for a mission like this. My life alone is enough to take the risk."
The leader hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"Then a long-range shuttle. Equipped with our latest technology."
Before the meeting ended, he added:
"Your AI chip will be replaced."
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
"With what?"
"The highest model. Only twenty copies were ever made… for leading the world."
A small pause of silence followed.
Then the leader said:
"Its name — the Supreme System Chip."
He did not comment.
But deep inside… he felt something begin to stir.
Not fear.
Nor excitement.
But that old feeling…
The one that comes before great battles.
After the meeting, he left the hall alone.
The corridor was long… and quiet.
The voice inside his mind said:
"The mission has been approved."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Then opened them.
And said calmly:
"Good."
And far away, deep inside the cosmic archive…
A world was dying slowly.
And, unknown to anyone…
It was waiting.
Aris stood alone in the launch chamber. No laughter, no greetings, no farewells. Just him, his shuttle, and the vast space waiting silently.
Everything around him was eerily calm. The shiny metal walls of the space station reflected his lone image: a man over two hundred years old, eyes filled with the seas of wars, a body carved by years, and a super-intelligent mind calculating all possibilities.
No family waiting. No friend to bid goodbye. No one to touch him in farewell. Even the leaders who approved the mission turned away from the shuttle as if afraid of the legend itself.
"This is the last thing I will do…" Aris whispered to himself, his voice like the edge of a sharp sword cutting the silence.
The AI implanted in his head, the most advanced version ever, began the final verification. Data from millions of past missions, paths, risks… all before him in a cold digital flash. But he paid little attention. Everything was just numbers to a man who had lived more than any human mind could understand.
Aris donned his space suit, linking it to the shuttle's neural interface as if binding himself to his last world. This suit was made to withstand any gravity, any force, any disaster. But he was not afraid. He no longer feared anything.
The shuttle trembled lightly as its engines ignited. The air around him no longer mattered, the Earth he left behind no longer real.
"Lift-off confirmed, Mr. Aris."
The AI's voice was calm, without emotion.
Aris did not reply. His gaze fixed on space, on infinity, on the unknown that would either consume him or change him.
For the next year, every day, every second, he measured distances by light, tracked stars, observed the void. No cabins, no other presence. Just him, his shuttle, and the AI that had not revealed all its secrets yet.
Then the day came.
"Arrival confirmed, Mr. Aris."
This time, the AI's voice was not just an announcement. It was a warning, a sentence shaking the ground beneath him.
Aris looked out the shuttle window, his eyes widening with a feeling he had not felt for decades.
What looked like a planet… was not a planet.
It was a cosmic corpse, twisted, determined not to die, refusing the end. Black molten storms, violet lightning striking the sky, and gravity pulling everything with incredible force. Every mountain, every rock, every crater screamed existence that would not leave.
Aris slowly maneuvered the shuttle, observing. Thousands of drones were released, sweeping the planet, mapping it, taking images. He did not press a single button; everything was controlled by his mind, and his super-intelligent brain read all the data simultaneously.
A strange feeling crept into his chest: awe.
The man who had faced hundreds of wars, fought for over a century, had never felt such fear before.
It was not fear of death… but fear of something greater. Something even the mind could not analyze.
He took a deep breath, tightened his hands on the shuttle controls, and said to himself:
"If this is the last thing in my life… let it be before the unknown."
And so, Aris plunged toward the heart of the disaster, toward the planet that refused to die, toward something no human had ever known before.
The AI sent him the final data before descent: warnings, probabilities, analyses—all useless.
Because before him was not just a shattered world… it was the beginning of the end.
At the moment of his first landing, as the shuttle touched the scorched rocks and he stabilized among the massive hills, he felt the universe itself watching him.
As if everything around him screamed silently:
"You, Aris, are the last to witness this world…"
And one sentence echoed in his mind before he closed the shuttle door:
"It did not look like a planet… but a cosmic corpse that refused to die."