Superhumans!!

The next morning, Silas awoke to the dull ache of a body that was not his own. The fight from the previous night had left bruises, and the cold had settled deep into his bones. The breathing technique had helped enough to turn his shattered ribs and torn muscles into more bruises, so he was still much better than last night.

He lay still for a moment inside the torn tent, assessing. His current physical state was pathetic, a far cry from the super body he had once possessed. There was much work to be done.

Just as he was contemplating his next move, he heard a commotion outside. The usual quiet murmur of the camp had been replaced by louder, more excited voices. Eager for any new information, he pushed aside the tent's flap and went outside.

What he saw left him truly astonished.

He saw four people dressed in bright, primary-colored spandex handing out food to the homeless. Their costumes were ridiculous, an assault on tactical and aesthetic sense. But what surprised him even more than their shitty costume was a simple, impossible fact.

One of the four newcomers dressed in spandex was floating.

The man hovered a few inches off the grimy concrete, his posture relaxed, as if standing on solid ground was a mere suggestion he had chosen to politely ignore. For a man like Silas, who had dedicated 150 years to mastering the fundamental laws of the universe, this was not a miracle. It was a violation. 

His mind raced, cycling through explanations—localized gravitational distortion, powerful magnetic repulsion, some form of invisible thrust—and dismissed them all in a fraction of a second. There was no tell-tale shimmer of energy, no hum of machinery. The man was simply, impossibly, floating.

The sight, a defiance of everything he knew, triggered a memory with the force of a physical blow. He remembered now. He remembered the exact moment his old world had died, not with an explosion, but with a round of applause.

Twenty years before extinction, Silas was attending the annual gathering of Scholars (AAS). At the time, this gathering was already a ninety-year tradition of the greater Human Empire and the only event Silas participated in during his later years. This annual gathering of Scholars was essentially an Open House where the entire world presented their inventions to Silas and discussed scientific theories.

He remembered a lecture conducted by one of his subordinates on Unified Theory at this gathering. He even remembered his subordinate, Val's, exact words. He could see him on the stage, beaming with pride, his voice echoing in the grand hall.

"Humanity has reached untold glory under his highness, the emperor," Val had declared, his arms spread wide. "Our job is done, the Unified Theory is essentially complete. Every force, every particle, every quantum fluctuation now bows to our understanding. The universe holds no more secrets from us. We have mapped the fundamental code that governs all existence, from the smallest subatomic dance to the grandest cosmic symphony. Physics is finished. Reality itself has been conquered by human intellect."

'He was always a poetic one. ' Silas said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

This declaration by Val received a standing ovation from the entire gathering. Thousands of the brightest minds of his empire were on their feet, celebrating the end of questions, the death of mystery. But what Silas heard was not praise, but stagnation. 

He didn't clap.

He just stared at the cheering crowd—scholars, thinkers, creators—and felt... Utter disgust.

Then, something happened; he felt a hollow thump in his chest, like a door closing.

This was the exact moment he realized that he was *done*. He had no chance of actually comprehending his world's secrets.

He realized that he, along with humanity, was completely at a standstill. There was no hope further. He had failed

And subconsciously, he had decided in that moment that humanity was fucked and he, Silas was done with them, they provided no value to him anymore. He remembered it now.

He remembered it now—the silent decision he made at that moment. In the depths of his mind, a final judgment had been passed: humanity was fucked. They had ceased to be an asset and were now merely an obstacle. And just like that, Silas was done with them.

The worst part wasn't hitting a wall—it was convincing themselves there was no wall to hit. They'd built the perfect intellectual prison and locked themselves inside, throwing away the key because they thought they didn't need it anymore.

Sure, under his lead, humanity progressed rapidly. By the time of its extinction, it had control over the entire Solar System. They created warp gates, achieved limited teleportation, and much more. They had life-extension methods that increased the life expectancy of the average male to 200 years through genetic engineering, and they had the Unified Theory... But that should not have been enough for them

The memory of the cheering crowd faded, replaced by the reality of the homeless camp. His gaze was still locked on the floating man, who was now handing a sandwich to a child. The sight was so absurd, so cosmically ironic, that Silas started to laugh. It began as a low chuckle before erupting into a loud, violent laugh that turned heads.

"Hahahaha! So this was the moment," he gasped, ignoring the strange looks he was getting.

He remembered that to be the exact moment, he decided to try again. This was the moment Silas completely gave up on humanity and his empire. This was the moment he realized that he too, like the clapping morons in front of him, had indivertibly been caught in this prison of delusion. 

Sure, he was trying every day to discover more. But was he really? Or was he just comfortable making small discoveries because the big questions seemed hopeless?

He knew that the Unified Theory was incomplete. He knew this deeply because completing this theory was his life's goal. This theory was the culmination of everything he knew about the universe. 

So, he knew it was unfinished because there were too many exceptions. Any exception was just a nice way of saying there was a flaw.

A flaw meant that he had not achieved the goal he had spent his entire life on. This revelation was killing Silas internally; he couldn't bear the weight of his failure. 

In that moment, he knew that no invention, discovery, or innovation was going to be enough to truly fulfill his goals. At least none in the next 50 years.

So, he decided to give himself more time, he decided to give himself a second chance, he decided to create a time machine...

His laughter subsided as he brought himself under control. He needed data. He approached a relatively sane-looking guy who was watching the heroes with a cynical expression.

"Who are they?" Silas asked, his voice still raspy.

To this query, the guy replied without looking at him, "It's just a team of new superheroes trying to make a name for themselves."

Silas could ascertain a lot of information from this sentence. In this world, superheroes are almost a part of everyday existence. Furthermore, they need the approval of the people. This probably means that superheroes are controlled and regularized by a governing body of some kind. 

This governing body didn't have to be governmental in nature; even a social media platform can act as a governing body. This was something Silas found out the hard way in his previous life.

He was very interested in learning more about this topic. He wanted to acquire more information, but the guy took a step away from him and left before he could ask. Apparently, the smell emanating from Silas was too much, even for someone who was homeless.