Carl, who had become immortal, decided to continue living normally—well, not like there was much he could do about it. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Year after year, the once-handsome Carl grew uglier and uglier. He got into fights, desperate to end his life, but fate was cruel. Somehow, he always managed to survive. His body toughened, growing stronger and more refined, yet still carrying the echo of his former face. Though he developed abs, his overall body barely changed.
His looks, however, became unbearable to witness. He felt like tearing his own face off.
He had been through countless battles, countless wars. When he was thirty-two, the zombie invasion began. It started in Germany, and the rest of the world sealed their borders. Carl managed to escape to Spain, where he met the beautiful Princess Elena. They fell in love, married, and he became king. But fate was unrelenting. He watched her die in his arms. He was ninety-eight then, forced to wear a mask to hide his horrifyingly ugly face. He cried until his tears ran dry.
Two years later came the era of the ghouls—ghosts, spirits, and all kinds of translucent creatures that nearly wiped humanity out. But as the saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Everyone gained new powers. Four years after that, a new virus spread across the globe, erasing half of humanity.
Carl, cursed by his system, couldn't die. He came in contact with countless infected people but never caught the virus. His name echoed across generations:
In the era of zombies, he was "The Last Man Standing."
In the era of ghouls, "The Ghosts' Bane."
In the era of the virus, "The Walking Dead."
He was hunted by scientists desperate for his blood. He couldn't tell them the truth—that a mysterious system had cursed him with immortality. So he ran, century after century.
Then came the era of races. Creatures from other planets appeared, and the world plunged into its bloodiest war. When peace finally came, monsters rose again. A crystal evolved all humans—except Carl. His system saw the evolution as a virus. They called him "The Zero-Winged God." Even without wings, he fought like one.
But something inside him broke. How long would he live as the ugliest man alive? How long would women avert their eyes in disgust, even as they admired his perfect body? He'd had enough.
He decided to build a time machine.
For centuries, he was known as the Mad Scientist, working endlessly in isolation.
Thousands of years later, he finally did it. His eyes gleamed with madness and hope. Surrounding himself with every time artifact he had ever built, he strapped them to his body, whispered a prayer, and stepped into the machine.
Then, glowing letters appeared before him, written in deep black ink:
THE TIME LAWS ARE IMPRESSED THAT YOU MANAGED TO BUILD A TIME MACHINE
THE TIME LAWS WILL ALLOW ALL YOUR CURRENT STRENGTHS TO BE TRANSPORTED WITH YOU
THE TIME LAWS WISH YOU GOOD LUCK AND HAVE A NICE DAY
After everything he'd lived through, Carl no longer felt surprise—only excitement. A faint smile stretched across his weary face.
"Past," he whispered, "here I come."