Day183. Year 988. 41st Millennium
Opel III
Hive Orion
Lower Hive
Raul collapsed onto the sofa, utterly exhausted after spending hours packing his belongings to move. Relocating was something he had done countless times before, whenever he realized his objectives were nearly met and danger was approaching.
He couldn't stay here any longer.
Fortunately, he had both the funds ready to pay for a ticket off this rock and the money to purchase the plot of land on a Civilized World for which he had already paid the deposit. He was going to get off this rotting planet.
It wasn't that he was afraid of dying. He could resurrect at any time. What could possibly kill him permanently? Weapons specifically forged to slay a Perpetual? Ridiculous. No one would waste such incredibly difficult-to-make weapons just to kill a nobody like him.
No, what he feared was that his precious belongings—the treasures he had cherished and protected for over 40,000 years—would be destroyed.
These items were ancient relics, holding immense sentimental and historical value. His collection ranged from luxury watches of various forgotten brands and a jewel-encrusted short sword originating from the Roman Empire, to a signed vinyl record by Justin Bieber. He had nearly a hundred engagement and wedding rings adorned with precious diamonds and gems. There were old combs and clothes belonging to certain individuals—things that should have decayed into dust ages ago, yet still remained.
And that didn't even include the numerous vinyl records and photographs—pictures of people and places from the distant past. Images of his sons and daughters, of famous landmarks, and of the people with whom he had shared beautiful memories.
Now, all his valuables were safely stored within a thick iron strongbox, secured to the back of a specialized servitor whose lower half had been modified into a heavy, tracked drive system. It was ready to depart the moment he gave the command.
Every so often, the muffled sounds of explosions echoed from the direction of the Iron Fang base.
Raul smiled with a calm, slightly dark amusement. The kid must be doing something inside the Iron Fang stronghold by now. She was likely conducting sabotage or assassinating a high-value target. He felt a profound pity for her. To be cursed with time-traveling into this terrible, bleak future, waking up in a rather pretty female body, and getting entangled in the political games of planetary nobles... But none of that mattered to him anymore.
Thanks to the information-trade agreement he had made with Erica, he could finally leave this planet. He just needed to meet with Vann Korvax to collect his payment for the intel, then head to the spaceport to get off-world.
Yesterday was a truly good day,Raul thought cheerfully. He stood up, opened the iron strongbox, and pulled out two or three smaller boxes before returning to his seat on the sofa. The first was a fine humidor made of rare hardwood. Upon opening it, he revealed rows of dark brown cigars. They were obscenely expensive Cubans, bought at a price most people couldn't even fathom. They were rolled from the finest tobacco leaves, meticulously cured, and carefully hand-rolled by his fifty-third wife.
She had been a lovely woman—the youngest daughter of a powerful drug lord. He remembered traveling to Cuba back then, aiming to increase his profit margins by a few percent... and somehow ending up with a wife instead.
He took out a single cigar, sealed the humidor tightly, and set it aside. He used a cutter to precisely snip the end with practiced care, then drew a match from a side compartment on the box rather than using a lighter, ensuring the flavor of the cigar remained untainted.
He took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose. The aroma and taste were exactly the same. It was tragically unchanged. Perhaps if he hadn't married in earnest, he wouldn't have to suffer like this. It was excruciating to watch wife after wife slowly wither and die of old age—the natural fate of baseline humans in an era without life-extending technology.
And some of them hadn't died of old age.
His hand clenched into a fist as he silently blamed himself over and over. He remembered the Middle Ages all too well... those terrible memories.
Back then, he was a traveling merchant, wandering from place to place to trade goods and make a profit. He had started his journey as a merchant over a thousand years prior, ever since he was driven out of his village due to his "incompetence" and unnatural abnormalities. He was accused of being a ghoul, a demon, an immortal abomination... Even his own mother had banished him.
He traveled endlessly, eventually establishing himself as a merchant. He had no clear destination in those days. He just kept moving, trading goods wherever he went—Rome during its golden age, France, England, Egypt, and Poland. He occasionally traveled new routes to the Orient and the Middle East.
Rome was where he first met Malcador. Forget the mysterious, cloaked old man persona. That wasn't Malcador's true form. Malcador was actually a handsome young man and always had been. The guise of the old man was merely a facade he adopted for purposes Raul never fully understood about his friend.
And he could definitely confirm just how fanatical the ancient Egyptians were about cats.
Despite how glamorous his life might sound, it was never easy. There were many times he was ambushed by bandits and murdered. But he never gave up, always resurrecting and returning to his business.
Immortality was both the greatest blessing and the worst curse of being a Perpetual.
When he first encountered the Black Death, he was slightly shocked by the death toll, but not entirely surprised. People in that era were quite filthy and unhygienic.
He didn't know how many years had passed... he didn't even care. He lived like that for over a millennium as a merchant—a pale-skinned Spaniard with black hair and striking blue eyes. He was considered quite wealthy, trading in precious gems and fine silks from the East and the Middle East. He even had several Persian friends.
And then one day, somewhere between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance—an era notorious for its witch hunts—the wealthy, handsome Perpetual merchant met her in a small village in southern France.
She had vibrant, pale skin, a voluptuous figure, a heart-shaped face, emerald-green eyes, and fiery red hair. He fell in love instantly. True, it took him a long time to win her heart. He remembered how deeply they had loved each other. She even had a cute black cat. Everything would have been perfect if it weren't an era where witch-hunting was the norm.
Raul remembered that they had only lived together for five years. Five blissful years, free from any financial worry thanks to his immense wealth. During those five years, every child she conceived had died before drawing their first breath. He remembered feeling devastated, but eventually accepting it.
Until the religious zealots arrived in the village and declared her a witch... for the most idiotic reasons. Because she had green eyes, red hair, and kept a black cat, the fanatics branded her a witch.
He had tried to reason with them.
But in the end, both he and she were tied to the same stake by the zealots and burned alive.
A terrible memory from over forty thousand years ago.
"The 2000s... Old Earth, huh? I miss it," Raul muttered sorrowfully, lowering his head slightly. It was an era when humanity made massive technological leaps. Starting from the invention of the steam engine, it took them less than two hundred years to set foot on the moon. It was an era where he thrived, where business was booming, and the most peaceful time he had known, despite the constant undercurrent of war.
Truth be told, he probably wouldn't have reminisced about the past at all if he hadn't spoken to Erica. And thinking about the past only made him feel worse. It wasn't that he only had bad memories of it.
It was because both the good and the bad memories were just that—the past.
The breathtaking landscapes... the crystal-clear turquoise waters of the Caribbean, the unique beauty of the African savanna, the vast forests of Canada and America, the majestic mountains of Spain and Europe, and countless other wonders...
When he thought about the current state of Earth—of Terra—he felt a profound sadness. Nothing of its original form remained. The Earth of 40,000 years ago and the Terra of today were practically different planets. The bright blue skies, the oceans, the mountains, the forests, the cities, and the deserts were all gone. It was now just a world completely swallowed by Hive Cities and tens of billions of people. Even the sky had turned a sickly, polluted yellowish-brown.
He exhaled smoke through his nose again before crushing the cigar into his palm to extinguish it, then tossed it into the trash bin.
...Perhaps he truly did want to die. Wouldn't it be better if he could just pass away naturally like a normal human? Then he wouldn't have to endure the miseries of life. He wouldn't have to witness the sheer degradation of humanity as it was now.
But alas, he wasn't going to die easily.
Raul opened the second box and carefully lifted out a record player. It was a strange, specialized model designed specifically for collectors—equipment and components he had spent millions of dollars to acquire back in the day. Thanks to his meticulous maintenance, it was still fully functional.
He placed the record player on the edge of the table, moved the third box closer, and opened it to retrieve a vinyl record. There were several records inside. He spent a long time searching for the specific song he wanted.
Finally, he found the vinyl for Con te partirò, or in English, Time To Say Goodbye, a masterpiece by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman, sung as a duet. It remained one of his absolute favorite classical pieces... even after all this time.
It was a miracle that these vinyl records still played after so many millennia.
He placed the record onto the turntable and gently lowered the needle. His hand flicked the power switch.
Raul closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa, ready to immerse himself in his favorite song. A song with a beautiful, unique melody. A lost song. And one of the few songs he could never sing himself—much like the ancient Egyptian and Persian songs he used to listen to the merchants sing at feasts.
The rhythmic swell of the violins began. The tempo was delicate, gorgeous, and perfectly conveyed a deep, underlying sorrow.
'Quando sono sola sogno all'orizzonte e mancan le parole...'Andrea Bocelli's vocals began to play. His voice was as magnificent as ever. A happy, yet profoundly sad smile slowly formed on Raul's face. He thought of the wife whose name he could no longer remember. He clearly remembered the sensation of being burned alive. It was an agony worse than being tortured by the Drukhari.
It was an agony born of sorrow.
Time was cruel. It had stripped away so much from his life—his lovers, his friends, and so much more. All that remained was sorrow and a deep sense of longing.
'Sì, lo so che non c'è luce in una stanza quando manca il sole'
'Se non ci sei tu con me, con me
Su le finestre, mostra a tutti il mio cuore che hai acceso'
'Chiudi dentro me la luce che hai incontrato per strada'
'Time to say goodbye
Paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te
Adesso, sì, li vivrò
Con te partirò'
'Su navi, per mari che io lo so
No, no, non esistono più'
These lyrics felt like a cruel, ironic reflection of his life... Yes... the blue skies and the beautiful seas he once knew were gone. Just like his lovers and his many friends. These things were merely the past. A past that was irrelevant and forgotten. A past devoid of meaning or recorded history. Only he remembered, and he was the only one left drowning in the grief of what used to be.
'It's time to say goodbye
Quando sei lontano sogno all'orizzonte e mancan le parole'
E io, sì, lo so che sei con me, con me
Tu, mia luna, tu sei qui con me
Mio sole, tu sei qui con me, con me, con me, con me'
While he was still lost in the beautiful, tragic melody, completely immersed in the sorrow and pain...
"Are you don't here a word I say!"
Raul flinched violently as the track abruptly glitched and changed to a completely different, jarring song. The romantic, melancholic atmosphere built by the beautiful melody was shattered instantly. He scrambled to turn off the record player.
"Son of a bitch," Raul cursed in absolute annoyance as he packed the record player and the vinyl back into their boxes.