He kept changing his appearance and identity, spending this unremarkable life, marrying and having children.
It didn't matter if the woman and the son were pseudo-humans.
Only occasionally, he would recall the wonderful stories from the "Ancestral Human Biography," the old man who aged from middle-aged to elderly, and he would occasionally daze, remembering his face.
That old man hid ignobly, died heroically with steadfast determination and endless weariness in his eyes.
Time continued to fly by.
The man continued to live, to live, to live.
Gradually, this life made him feel bored. Why does one live?
Is it just to live?
The figure of that person in his mind became clearer and clearer.
Unconsciously, the leader who regularly came to chat with him and discuss worldly matters, their acquaintance from youth to old age, had gradually etched into his bones.
He chose to wander the world, searching for the traces left by the Human Ancestor.
