The first thing that returned was the sensation of pain. For long days, months, there was nothing but pain. I felt new muscles growing, bones forming, and new nerve fibers sprouting. This happens when there is very little of the body left. Over time, I began to feel my body, and then sight and hearing returned. My vision was poor, as if looking through murky water, and it would remain so until my eyes fully regenerated, the same with my hearing. But even with poor vision, I could make out my surroundings.
I was on the slope of a ravine in the middle of a dense forest, with water babbling at the bottom. From the fallen leaves, it was clear that it was late autumn, and the air smelled of cold earth and decay—nature was preparing for winter. I carefully pushed the leaves off myself and lay down more comfortably. I had to wait until my body was fully restored. It was better to wait a little longer than to break a bone that hadn't fully hardened or strain a tendon that hadn't yet grown back, and then have to wait for them to regenerate again. This process required patience.
Some might say that lying there doing nothing for months would drive you mad, but you can get used to it. For me, it took 3,000 years, and it was especially difficult at the beginning. An unlucky blow from an enemy, unlucky for me, severed my cervical vertebrae, condemning me to the terrible fate of being trampled in the dust of battle. For a whole month, I couldn't move among the corpses that no one had managed to clear or check for survivors. Now, in my fourth millennium of life, I've grown accustomed to a more philosophical view of time.
I was distracted from my nostalgia by the sound of battle, and these were not the sounds of modern warfare. A sword fight? Swords? Now, in 2037! I shook the half-rotted leaves from myself, slowly sat up, stretched my limbs, then carefully got to my feet. Listening, I realized that somewhere about 10 meters from the ravine where I was, five or six people were fighting.
I leaped out of the ravine in a single bound and took in the scene that had so intrigued me. And the scene was truly interesting. In the middle of the trees, five elves had surrounded a dark figure wrapped in a tattered cloak, probably also an elf. They were swinging their swords with superhuman speed, which begged the question: where was I, and why were elves walking around? I'm no expert, but this didn't look like a human mutation from radiation. The mutants there aren't so beautiful, I thought, as I rushed to meet the elf who had separated from the group and was running toward me.
I ducked under the attack and tripped him. While the elf was falling, I ripped the sword from his hands and finished him. At that moment, I almost lost my head as two more elves rushed at me. Their reaction and speed were incredible. They began to press me, and each subsequent blow became harder to block. At the moment when I shouldn't have been able to keep up, the trap closed. My strong blow severed the hand that was holding the sword flying so confidently at me, after which I changed the trajectory and beheaded elf number two. Finishing the blow, I made a reverse movement with the sword, finishing off elf number one, and sheathed the sword.
While I was fighting, the presumably dark elf had already finished with his opponents and was approaching me.
"I am very grateful that you helped me," he said.
These words were a surprise to me. First, my guess that he was a dark elf was confirmed when, probably following some rule of etiquette, he removed his cloak and made a shallow bow. Second, I understood him! And no, he wasn't speaking English or some local language I had suddenly come to understand. It was Ancient Greek—a language I hadn't heard for a millennium and a half, since the days of the Roman Empire, times so distant and so close. Hmm, and now the question again: where am I, why do elves here speak Greek, are there humans, and what language do they speak? My third discovery: his people have very strict rules of gratitude. Why do I think so? Because all my clothes were destroyed by that blast that wounded me so badly, but he ignored it completely.
So instead of answering him right away, I turned to the dead elves to take their clothes and the many trophies they had: three incredibly high-quality swords, three light chainmail shirts, gold and silver coins, a small supply of rations, and a set of dark green clothes.
"My name is Anthoulis Astromerios of the house Aitherion," Anthoulis Astromerios introduced himself. His voice was soft and melodic, but at the same time full of a hidden confidence that made you listen to every word.
The name was strange, and at the same time, I noticed a very unusual accent for the local language.
"My name is Achilles," I said, pausing for a second before continuing, "I was careless on my journey and got lost..."
I was running through the forest. How long had it been since I'd done something like this? I ran as fast as I could. At the same time, I initiated the rejuvenation process. My power isn't just immortality; it's much more. In fact, I once even considered myself a Greek demigod. It's just that the Greek gods became myths, and I remained. So at some point, I simply stopped thinking about how my immortality works, but I thoroughly studied what it gives me. Besides the inability to die, I have powerful regeneration and the ability to restore limbs and even more.
I learned how strong my regeneration was when the Inquisition caught me and cut off my head. Thanks to my experience with regeneration time, I've learned to approximately assess the degree of damage. But in this case, it still took too long. It was even longer than when they threw me into a volcano. Back then, after the fight, only a puddle of blood was left of me. The only thing that could destroy me so quickly that I didn't even feel anything was a nuclear explosion. It seems not even a drop of blood was left of me. Well, I can assume I've found a way to travel between worlds. It's quite convenient: if my enemies turn me to dust, they'll think I'm dead. But I'll just be transported to another world. And if I find a way to move between worlds, I can even return and take revenge on all my enemies when they least expect it. Although I'm used to all my enemies usually dying of old age. With these thoughts, I gradually reached more populated lands. I began to slow down the speed I had developed thanks to my body's four millennia of existence, which had become incredibly resilient and adapted to physical exertion. Because of the power of immortality, my body is free of the processes of aging, decay, or even degradation. Unlike others, I won't get weaker just by lying around for a few years. But I continue to train because, despite the superhuman strength I possess, I still become a tiny bit stronger with every workout. Slowly, I shifted from running to a leisurely walk, slowly approaching the city wall that was visible in the distance. The walls rose nine meters above the ground and struck me with their monumentality. Their stone blocks seemed ancient and darkened with time, overgrown with moss and weathered by hundreds of years. I looked at the small city hidden behind the walls as I walked along an overgrown path. Grass and weeds thickly framed the road, sometimes brushing against my legs. With each step, the city became clearer: small towers loomed between the walls, patrols were visible between the battlements, and large wooden gates to which I was heading. Next to the gates stood a group of city guards, who were currently talking to some peasants in a cart. I approached and listened to the conversation.
"So when you're done, come see us, and you can tell us what it's like being a guard," said the peasant, a stately man with calloused hands.
"It all depends on how the day goes," the guard said. "How are things with you?"
"Oh, same as always. The work never stops. The land drains our strength, but it also feeds us."
They were speaking Persian—a familiar language to me, which made me wonder about a connection between my world and the one I had entered. In truth, it wasn't all that important; I'm not a scientist, and I won't spend millennia on experiments to solve this puzzle.
"Do you have goods for sale?" one of the guards said after he noticed me.
"No, nothing like that," I said with a smile, remembering the last time I had passed by guards. It was over two centuries ago, although the guard didn't share my mood.
"Where are you coming from?" the guard asked grimly.
"I went into the forest and got lost. I've just come out of it," I shrugged.
At my words, the guard frowned but said:
"Don't break the rules and pass through."
Meanwhile, the peasants finished their conversation and moved on. I decided to join them and start a conversation.