Lately, my life has changed a lot. Ever since I took that job, I've begun to see the world in a different way, and because of that, I've come to value my past much more.
Back then, I couldn't stop thinking about how insignificant my existence was to everyone else. As time went on, that thought slowly convinced me that my life had no value at all.
You're probably thinking I'm a bit dramatic after hearing something so pessimistic, aren't you?
Well, that would be understandable. But I ask that you listen to my story and try to put yourself in my shoes. After that, you can judge me however you want.
I was born on Fandret-9, a small world among the hundreds of planets controlled by the great Terran Empire. It was, quite literally, a speck of dust floating in a vast universe. And although that might sound intimidating to many people, the truth is it never really bothered me. I didn't mind being a speck, because I knew that everyone I loved and everything I cared about were, in a way, specks as well.
I spent almost my entire life living in a small village called Banderling, located north of Hervan National Park. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by trees so enormous they were the size of mountains, and filled with kind and cheerful people. Maybe that's why, at that age, I believed the whole world was just like that village. Small, and full of good people.
But… one day, like any other, something happened that forced me to abandon that idealized image I had of the world.
Without warning, a superhuman appeared out of nowhere, destroyed the entire center of the village, and—without a shred of mercy—killed more than fifty people.
I… turned out to be incredibly lucky. I survived the massacre, and I didn't lose any of my loved ones or anyone particularly important to me, except for one friend… the only one I had during those years.
It was unfair.
All those people were slaughtered in such a brutal way by a lunatic who didn't even live anywhere near the village. That bastard simply picked a random town full of humans with the sole intention of killing as many as he could.
Later, after forty agonizing minutes, the superhuman was finally stopped by heroes sent from Virelius, the closest city to the village.
The whole situation was very confusing to me. I was only about five years old at the time, and at that age I couldn't understand how anyone could do something so horrible. However, a few days later, my parents decided it was time to teach me a little history.
Many years ago, humans—driven by their thirst for knowledge—began a great colonization effort, seeking to expand their domain across the galaxy and uncover the mysteries it held. Their ambition was so great that in less than six hundred years they had fully colonized more than ten star systems, gaining new knowledge from every planet they discovered and forging a prosperous path for humanity.
Until, without anyone realizing it, the worst possible thing happened to a race as arrogant as humanity once was.
They encountered intelligent life.
They called themselves the Vultrack, a species far older than humans and vastly more powerful.
No one knows exactly how tensions between the two species began. What is known, however, is that humans were the ones who struck the first blow and ignited the war.
Or rather… if that massacre can even be called a war.
For one hundred and fifty years, humanity failed to claim a single victory.
The Vultrack never attacked directly. Instead, they sent their soldiers—mindless savage beasts that humans eventually came to call monsters. These creatures became the greatest threat humanity had ever faced, and before long the planets humans had once conquered began to collapse one after another.
Despite the overwhelming numerical disadvantage, humanity managed to survive the first waves. However, no one was willing to celebrate those apparent victories, because the damage humanity suffered was something that could never truly be repaired.
In their search for a counterattack against the monster invasions, the governments of the last surviving human worlds launched countless projects and experiments in hopes of creating weapons capable of changing the course of the conflict.
That was the moment humanity changed its history forever.
On one of humanity's last remaining worlds—whose name has long since been buried by time—inside a laboratory so dark that even the light of its own sun dared not enter, a virus was born.
It was named Gravisoma.
In time, the virus spread across every human world, infecting hundreds of millions of people. Those infected developed gravism, also known as Crushing Death—a sudden hyper-gravity condition that compressed their internal organs as if the weight of their bodies had multiplied tenfold.
The only way to avoid infection was by wearing heavy masks known as Gravity Stabilization Masks (GSM), devices designed to filter Gravisoma particles suspended in the air. Because of this, humans were forced to wear them whenever they went outside.
Just when humanity seemed doomed to extinction, a small percentage of humans developed a kind of tolerance to the Gravisoma virus.
These individuals were used as lab rats by ruthless scientists. Their bodies were examined piece by piece in search of a cure for gravism—or at the very least a way to lessen its effects. But despite countless attempts, nothing about them seemed different from ordinary humans.
So when they failed to find a solution within them…
they decided to turn them into the solution.
And that was how superhumans were born.
They were a forced and far more evolved version of the human species, possessing the strength to shatter moons with a single blow and the speed to cross entire worlds in a matter of minutes. Superhumans became the greatest weapon humanity had ever created—and its last hope for survival.
With superhumans fighting on humanity's side, the war against the Vultrack took a new turn. Victories for humanity began to be reported daily, and soon humanity adopted a new name: Terrans, in honor of Terra—the world where our species was born, and the symbol of all who inherited its legacy.
Yet despite surviving so many catastrophes, over time the human population within Terran territory began to decline drastically, while the number of superhumans continued to grow without end.
Today, twelve thousand years after the beginning of the war against the Vultrack, the conflict still continues. Meanwhile, the species that started it all now stands on the brink of extinction—victims not only of natural selection, but also of the discrimination of those they once called brothers.
"Many people… simply because they were born strong, believe they have the right to decide the fate of the weak."
Those were the words of my beloved mother, who avoided looking me in the eyes as she spoke.
When I looked at her face, I saw an expression filled with sadness and guilt—two emotions I had never expected to see in my mother, who had always been so cheerful that even the smallest things, like ants moving through the garden grass, could bring a smile to her face.
Even the weakest superhuman is hundreds—perhaps thousands—of times stronger than a fragile human could ever hope to be.
That was the conclusion I reached after hearing the long history lesson my parents gave me. And it made me feel… small.
Because I realized something.
I had never been a speck of dust like everyone else.
I was a speck of dust surrounded by giants.
When I realized I would never be able to compare myself to those who were born blessed, I decided to change the way I lived in order to adapt to what I believed were appropriate standards for a fragile human like me. I stopped putting effort into school, became a solitary person who stood out at nothing, and eventually abandoned any aspirations I might have had for the future.
…I know, I know. That sounds incredibly stupid on my part. I didn't realize just how stupid it was until after I turned sixteen, because at that age every human must choose one of the so-called "Paths for the Terran Future." We must decide whether to become a miner, join the military, or pursue an academic career in a major city. And since my grades only allowed me to choose between two of those three paths—both of which meant certain death for someone as useless as me—I had to take a much more complicated route.
If I truly wanted to enroll in an academy with the garbage I called my grades, I would have to leave home and travel to a city that had academies with a final-exam admission system. In other words, I had to move away in order to take a series of extremely difficult exams whose results would determine whether I could enter the second semester of the first academic year.
It's a complicated method, mainly designed for those desperate to enroll, and it's also extremely expensive. If it hadn't been for the support my family decided to give me, I wouldn't have even been able to take the exams.
So I moved far away from home and settled into a small apartment in Regulus City, a megacity designed to house both humans and superhumans.
The days passed, and I took two of the six exams required to enter Stigmex Academy. I got perfect scores on both of them, though achieving that meant pushing myself to the limit, studying day and night for two entire months. Despite the exhaustion, the results filled me with immense happiness.
It was during that time that… agh, I made the greatest mistake I could possibly have made. I refuse to remember how it happened.
…but I will never forget how I found out.
I was in my apartment and… I didn't feel well. Many parts of my body hurt, and it was hard to breathe. As my condition only kept getting worse, after enduring the pain for an entire week I finally decided to see a doctor.
......
...…
…
I had wasted a large part of my life. I had no friends, no talent, and even fewer ambitions. I was a useless person who deserved to die. I shouldn't have been surprised that my fate was heading exactly there.
Those were the thoughts running through my mind when I received the news.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but there's nothing we can do. I truly am sorry."
At sixteen years old, I had contracted the Gravisoma virus, which triggered a severe case of gravism in its progressive stage.
In other words, my time was running out.
Every day it became harder to get out of bed. Sometimes I felt so exhausted that I didn't even try to stand. Whenever I did something as simple as walking, I could feel my bones cracking with every movement and my muscles burning from overwhelming fatigue.
During that time I barely spoke with my parents or my siblings. I only told them how well my exams were going, because I didn't dare tell them the truth—that I was going to die. For many years I had done nothing but give them reasons to worry about me, and because of that I didn't have the courage to tell them the truth.
I didn't want them to worry about me anymore. I didn't want to become a burden to them. And most of all… I didn't want them to pity me.
I… couldn't even feel alive in such a miserable state.
Although, if I thought about it carefully, I hadn't truly felt alive for a long time before that.
Sometimes I wondered if, had I died at the hands of that superhuman along with the other inhabitants of Banderling, I would never have felt as empty as I did at that moment.
The days passed quietly, and as my health kept worsening, I spent most of my time lying on the floor of my apartment, surrounded by empty beer cans I had obtained thanks to the help of a kind homeless man.
Everything that happened after that is a blur.
GGRRROOOAAARGH!!!
It's hard to think when you're being chased by a deformity from another dimension.
But if I had to blame someone for my current situation—aside from the green-haired parasite girl, the explosives-addicted madman, the spoiled noble, the violent noble, the arrogant noble, the worst friend anyone could ever have, and myself—I would definitely blame that blond, suit-wearing sociopathic idiot.
I should never have trusted him.
GGRRROOOAAARGH!!!
"Shit! At this rate my eardrums are going to burst."
Even so, I can't deny my own responsibility in all of this. After all, I accepted this damned job. I'm here because I chose to be… and if I'm still alive, it's only because I stubbornly cling to a simple caprice.