During more than seventy years, Kael had been just a man.
A soldier. A quiet one. The kind that followed orders, bore scars in silence, and smoked more than he spoke. He had lived a life of duty, some regrets, and long nights replaying decisions he couldn't undo.
When he retired from the military, the silence didn't bring peace — it brought weight. Cigarettes became company, and alcohol became his memory filter.
Kael wasn't a bad man. Just tired. Tired of himself. Of time. Of the world.
He lived alone in a small apartment surrounded by papers, medals, and a notebook no one had ever read. The year was 2020. And one morning, without any drama or warning, his heart simply stopped.
People thought it was the end.
But it wasn't.