Obsession

This was not entirely possible in his previous world. There, in his youth, he had developed a super serum that would elevate his genes to the next level, but it was flawed. It gave him unparalleled strength and adaptability, but it also locked his genes forever. Now, even ninety-three years later, he couldn't unlock those genes. His reliance on external tools, including the time machine itself, was a direct result of that limitation. He actually wanted to use the time machine to go far enough back in time and give himself a second chance.

But this time…

Silas looked down at his own hands, turning them over in the firelight. He had literally been standing in the same place for more than ten hours, planning his future and reaffirming his goals. Now, it was the evening.

He looked at his hands with a fervent gaze. They were young, unmarked, and—most importantly—'unlocked', unlike his previous body.

Their potential was unknown. He hoped that this time, he could do it right. He could build the vessel from the ground up, without compromise. The first step, he thought, was information. He needed to learn everything about the superhumans of this world.

But before that, he had to survive. For that, he needed information...

Silas didn't want to leave the safety of the camp before his body was fully healed. So, he decided to spend an extra day.

Night fell. Silas was in his tent. The aches from the fight two nights prior had settled deep into the muscles of this new body. He was weak, and his injuries needed time to heal. So, he repeated his routine from the previous day. He meditated for a few hours while maintaining the breathing technique before falling asleep.

The next morning, he awoke. The camp was already following its established routine. People lined up to receive a small portion of food from a charity van that arrived at the same time each day. Silas joined them, received a piece of bread and a cup of water, and returned to his tent to eat. He spent the rest of the day inside, resting. But inside, he was growing increasingly frustrated. He knew that it was unsafe to go out of the camp for now. But his curiosity was killing him; he wanted to know more about this unique world.

Silas didn't like this; he remembered himself to be better than this. His actions were always controlled, and his emotions were always controlled. He had literally spent decades cultivating this state, and it frustrated him that this state was unravelling.

So, he decided to spend the day cultivating his mind. To reinforce his _self_, Silas decided to meditate on his past life.

His mental state was completely different now than it was before he arrived in this world.

This was another mystery to him. He couldn't understand how his personality had changed this much. Deep down, he was still the same person, but his current actions and thoughts would lead one to think otherwise.

This was incredibly worrying. _Was he even the same person?_

He received no memories from his new body, but what if this body's personality somehow penetrated into Silas's mind? He couldn't have that.

So, he decided to dissect the issue as much as he could. He remembered another important issue. He still had eidetic memory.

Everything Silas knew about biology told him that this should not be possible. Eidetic memory was not attached to his memories or personality; it was attached to the brain.

Currently, Silas was in a foreign body. The chances of this brain having eidetic memory, too, were infinitely low.

So, how was it possible that he still had this quality? Thinking about it, how exactly did he switch bodies? Did his memories get switched with this body's? How would that even work?

Memories were just a part of Silas's identity. There were other things that defined him, like his emotions, his rational thought, his subconscious, etc.

'All these things should be controlled by different parts of the brain. So, how is it possible that I retained all these in a foreign body?'

'Or is it true that all living beings possessed a soul, and what was switched is this soul?'

'But I personally proved that human beings have no soul by cloning them. '

'This is very interesting; it seems I am missing a key piece of biological studies,' Silas said in excitement.

'Let's shelve this debate for now. ' Silas thought before resuming his meditation again.

It seemed that the change in his body was somehow affecting his mind. But he couldn't tell how.

The only thing he could do now was reinforce his _self_ by remembering his past.

The first thing Silas felt when he thought about his previous life was a sense of frustration. That tracked. Even in his previous life, this emotion had always been the most dominant one.

This feeling of frustration increased as he grew older because every new day reminded Silas of how short a time he had to complete his goal.

He remembered his main frustration and dissatisfaction with himself and humanity. Silas was frustrated because of how slow they were progressing, and he was dissatisfied because humanity seemed content with the progress.

He had been extremely frustrated because nothing that was achieved was complete. The exploration didn't find any other life in the universe. The life extension methods had no way to extend life without permanently giving up the potential for further growth. The genetic engineering eliminated most diseases but created a plethora of other problems.

He had scoured most of the galaxy himself but found no other intelligent being. He even sent signals to the rest of the knowable universe, but there was never any response. He had shifted his focus to exploring other dimensions, but even there, he found nothing.

There was no god, no heaven, no hell; humans were there all alone. Or perhaps Silas had never reached a level where he could interact with such beings. He had exhausted all his options.

Silas had no problem with dying, but dying without accomplishing anything was not something he could tolerate. He remembered his own quiet thought. 'Perhaps this is what every coward who is afraid of dying says.' In any case, he had refused to give up then, and he refused to do so now.

Another day passed without incident. The following day was much the same as the last. He received his food portion. He returned to his tent. He rested. The hours passed slowly. With nothing to do but meditate in the semi-darkness and think.

By now, he was somewhat of a feared entity in the camp, so nobody bothered him. This was because the entire camp had seen him stand and stare at a single place for more than ten hours without moving.

Freak events like this were generally linked with _meta-humans_ in this world. So, most in the camp assumed he was one.

Silas noticed this change, but he was not aware of the deeper reason. In any case, he didn't sense any malice from the camp residents, so he attributed his lack of insight to his lack of knowledge and moved on.

If he had sensed any hostility from the residents, he would have fled immediately.

Soon, Silas went back into meditation. Slowly, his mind turned to the project that had brought him here. The sheer contrast between his current state—possessing nothing but a torn tent and patched clothes—and the sheer scale of his last creation was absolute.

His gamble had paid off. Silas had created a time machine. But to do so, he had scraped together all the resources of the solar system; Everything he had built.

Bit by bit, he had absorbed the solar system's resources. The oceans had become reactors. Moons were carved for their minerals. Planets and asteroids were stripped bare of any resources.

Under Silas's lead, humanity had destroyed the ecosystem of the Solar System beyond repair. Now, just like the Solar System, its only inhabitants had died because of Silas too.

This was the riskiest move Silas had made in his life. The machine was the result of twenty years of relentless effort by all of humanity.

He realized now how foolish he had been. He had risked too much. That alone proved he wasn't rational..

He had to do better in this life. He vowed never to let his life be led by desperation and hopelessness like that again. He sat up in the tent, his voice a low, harsh whisper only he could hear.

"A century of discipline and training… and all of it crumbles under obsession."

The debate was over. He had messed up, but he would never mess up like this again. So, he suppressed the memory and focused on the future. His mind, clear and focused, began to take stock of his current situation, assessing his available skills.

He had decent martial arts skills, but their effect would be almost inconsequential with his current weak body. He also had good hacking skills, especially for this era, and a good foundation in science, technology, and bioengineering. Considering he managed to achieve matter-energy conversion and teleportation, "good" was already being modest, but he didn't know the technological level of this world, so he couldn't be certain.

Although from the cars and buildings he saw in New York, he could guess that it wasn't high.

By the morning of the third day, His body was fully healed. His mind was more sound, and his emotions were under his control.

_He was ready._

His time for rest was over. It was time to leave the camp and so early the next morning he left.