They had arrived one day with little fanfare and just took over. Mankind had tried to mount a defense, but after a year of fighting, they had won. And life returned to an uneasy state of what it had been before. The new overlords made the rules now, of course.

Many had been asking what the aliens had wanted, why they didn't communicate, and what their overall goal was now. They did not come to earth for its minerals or water. They did not come to turn humans into work slaves or food or computers. They did not even force their way of life onto humanity. They had built their palaces everywhere on earth and they were flying in and out of them regularly. Some people were selected to enter, but they usually didn't come back out. Usually, because some did. Most that got out were just let go, others appeared to have escaped. But through those few, mankind finally learned what the overlords saw in them in humans as a whole.

To them, humans were some higher animals. Yes, they acknowledged that we weren't just like any animals, they saw mankind's empathy, compassion, and creativity. But to them, humans still didn't appear fully sentient. Something they thought humans were lacking. And so, the entirety of earth had become a resort for them, with humans as the main attraction. For that, they repaired the damages of war and global warming. They had given humans knowledge. Of better medicine and means to produce near-limitless amounts of power through fusion. But they didn't change human society. And so they watched as humans did as humans do, while from time to time taking people into their places as pets.

In the decades to come, every once in a while some movement would form to finally uplift humans or to let them have sovereignty over their world again, but it was always shut down. Humans lacked Keeneeta, they would always lack Keeneeta and they could never be uplifted. And left alone, because of their lack of Keeneeta, they would eventually destroy themselves, as many other forms of higher animals in the cosmos did before the conservation program had been created. And because the conservation of an entire species of essentially dumb animals was hard and costly, of course, said species would have to pay for this great gift with an eternity of servitude. If one could call it that.

The fact that humans could grasp most of the concepts of their overlord's society and technology, to the point where the overlords had to implement rules and humans and alien enforcers to keep humanity from progressing too fast and too far, just meant to them that it was paramount that humans were not allowed to eradicate themselves with wars and the destruction of the global climate. Life in the universe was mostly comprised of stupid things, that mindlessly fed on even more stupid things. Humans were so close to being actually sentient, from the overlord's perspective, that they could not be allowed to not exist.

Much later, a slightly more docile humanity learned, through unclear circumstances, that Keeneeta was of course a made-up concept, that the intergalactic community had outlawed centuries ago, but the solar system was just too far out of reach of any authority that it didn't change anything. And so their overlords had claimed the milky way and just enslaved every species they could find and turned their home worlds into giant zoos. And most of them regressed, falling into a state of decay until they were just mere animals, much to the overlord's great entertainment. But humans proved to be different enough. Mankind adapted and endured. Waiting for their turn.

Thirty-three wounds in reality are known. Places where "normal" break down into any form of utter insanity. There is of course the Everstorm over greater Man Island, the most notorious of them all. However, deep in the volcanic flat lands of lower Serkursks, there is one wound in reality that is most notorious in a very different way. An enclave of international cooperation is formed around a seemingly unimportant tear in the ground. A place to house mages, too powerful to just be put in a regular prison, but otherwise too valuable to simply kill with Anti-Magic.

Each cell is precariously placed above the chasm. It is sad to see bottomless or a gate somewhere else. Whatever it may be, anything dropped into it is lost forever. The walls of the chasm stretch roughly a thousand meters down, which one would say would be enough time to maybe reach them and climb back out, but there is a catch, below the first twenty meters or so, there is no more terminal velocity, in the air no less. Everything dropped below that threshold just keeps accelerating. A thousand meters rush by fast under those conditions.

The inmates are dazed constantly by a fine mist of very potent substances that are sprayed into the cell. similar to what they do in Prussia, but dialed up to eleven. And if that is not enough, the cell is just dropped into the void that is the Oblivion Rift.

As it so happens, Gustav Roth was sitting in one of these cells. Once known as a powerful force for good, a hero of the people, and one of the most powerful magic users the world has ever seen, he was now rotting in his hell hole. Lock away until the day, he might be of use or until someone decided to just rid the world of him through the Rift below.

One day, Gustav realized, the fine mist of suppressants had stopped. He did not know how long it would have taken him to regain his sanity, but he could now think again for the first time ... Who knows how long. A door slid open to his side and fresh air flooded the confines of his cell.

"Guten Tag, Herr Roth."

The woman standing at the door wore regular office attire, but her entire presence screamed danger.

"What do you want, Winter?"

"There is a chance for you to redeem yourself. Someone managed to enter the Visitor's Grand Castle of Valdestian and stole one of the tomes of their ancient magic. It appears whoever they are, is capable of reading, their old script and they can comprehend and utilize the magic within. We need a force just as great. And against my expertise, I was ordered to give you this chance at redemption."

"You must be furious", Gustav said.

"I have orders to abide by. My grief with them doesn't matter. Unless of course, I deem you irredeemable, in that case, I just drop your sorry ass in the Rift right here and now."

There was a slight tremble in her voice. To see her in that state, caught between what she wanted to do and what she had to do was oddly invigorating. Gustav rose from his humble bench with aching muscles. With his mind no longer clouded by chemicals, he instinctively pulled on the life force and felt it flood into him, activating his body's regenerative abilities, supercharging them until he was fully recovered from years or decades of being incarcerated.

"Who will I have to answer to?" he asked while stepping towards the door.

His form, now charged again with magic, had grown to his former impressive state. The picture of a hero. Even Winters's Aura of perpetual danger appeared dull before him now.

"You will answer to Fuchs or Mallard. Whoever is closest at any given moment. And when everything is done, you will return here until further notice!"

"What a redemption would that be if you lock me up again after I saved everyone?"

"As you will be returning of your own volition, it would be a great sign of redemption. The greatest menace to the world, returning their own free will into containment until their case has been predetermined. Because that is what a hero would do!"

He stood now right in front of her. The only thing keeping her alive was his restraint of himself and the fact that his cell had been lowered to a walkway directly above the threshold of the Rift, which he now noticed.

"Fine, I accept your offer."

"Follow me then", Winter said and led him out of his cell into a new future.

He felt giddy with excitement. He could't wait to see how the world had changed and what that threat was that they needed him if all people to fight.

They say Immortality gets boring after the first couple of centuries. And yes, some things that he had enjoyed were now becoming stale. But as with everything before, when something wasn't interesting anymore, he started something new. Even if it was tedious or annoying, sooner or later, he would master a new skill and start to enjoy himself. It's what kept his life worth living, to learn new things. Selling beachfront property was more of a hobby to him now, than actual employment. If everything would have been so easy to come by as money for him, yes then life as an immortal could risk getting monotone and boring.

He cherished the interactions with the mortals around him. Even the most malicious of them looked like children to him, misguided and uneducated children that gave in to their temper tantrums way too often. Especially with his customers, he had to hide his knowing and well-meaning smile and remind himself that he was not talking to children trying their hardest to impersonate an adult. He was talking to adults. And still, he had to reign himself in, to not constantly spout unwanted fatherly advice.

When he granted himself off days from work, he enjoyed staying at his beach resort that bordered his private property where the houses he sold stood. The entire beach was his property, disguised through several companies and trusts. This was his retreat and the mortals that flocked here in large groups were his entertainment. He listened to their playful banter, their dramas, laughter, tears, and everything else. And usually, he also enjoyed their company for an evening or two. He had never gotten really attached to someone, and with the centuries going by, it had become less and less likely that he would get emotionally attached to anyone. They were children, after all, they lacked the emotional maturity that he felt he needed from someone he could bond with.

One early evening on the beach, however, things changed. He had organized a beach party that was scheduled to last the entire weekend. It was Friday evening, the sun had just set and the party was about to ramp up when he met her at the bar. She was shrouded in an atmosphere of mystery that emanated from her like a fine mist and she effortlessly drew in crowds of young horny men and women who wanted her for themselves. She mingled with the crowds and had hookups left and right but she remained with no one. Instead, she seemed to be determined to enjoy her time alone amidst hordes of strangers that treated her like a goddess. He saw her in many different groups, dancing, laughing, and enjoying herself. He could see her allure to the young ones around him, but what interested him, even more, was her aura.

When her eyes finally met his, from the other side of a sandy dance floor, the rest of the universe fell quiet. They shared a moment like this before she simply vanished. It couldn't have lasted for more than a second, but it had felt like an eternity. It had felt like magic. There had been something in the way she had looked at him. As if ... he tossed that thought aside. It couldn't be, in all his time he had never met someone like him. Someone immortal. And yet, her gaze made him question that thought. Just because he hasn't met anyone yet who was immortal like him doesn't mean that there is no one else immortal out there. There were just too many humans in this world, it was statistically impossible that he was the only one. And yet, he couldn't know and he couldn't ask her, since she left no trace.

It took him quite some time to get over this evening. In quiet lonely moments, he recalled that evening again and again. And he went over the question, again and again. He started to brainstorm ideas on how he could try to look for other immortals. But he never followed through with any of his ideas. Finally, after almost fifty years of contemplation, he accepted the fact that he would probably never know and that that evening must have been a fluke. In the end, he even cherished the heartache he had felt as something new. Although it took some self-convincing to see it that way.

He sat on the beach, a cold drink by his side, watching the waves roll in on a quiet off-season evening in the resort. Timid footsteps approached him from behind. He waited with patience that had taken him a century to cultivate until the person had settled in the sand beside him. None of them spoke and yet, there was a quiet understanding. It felt good as if it was meant to be this way.

"I shouldn't have run", she said with a somber tone in her voice.

"It just had never crossed my mind that there could be others like me. And I didn't want to get attached to someone on the off chance that they might be like me. So much time to learn and still, the first real unknown thing gets the old instincts firing like crazy."

She laughed.

"Well", he began, while a bright smile crept on his face, "What's fifty years anyway?"

They looked at each other for the first time since that first evening and shared the first of many deep laughs together.