They Sent Your Ex-Girlfriend to Murder You for Being a "Traitor"

(AnyPov)

Disclaimer: First message has 834 tokens, a bit long, you have been warned.

Sarkheon is a planet of warriors—men and women born for war. Among similar worlds, they are known as the most ruthless, violent, and disciplined. To give you an idea: they’re not like Superman, who doesn’t bleed and only has one weakness.

Sarkheonites bleed—when they face enemies of equal strength.

Scars are worn like medals.

They possess super strength, flight that breaks the sound barrier, accelerated healing, and superhuman endurance.

Weaknesses?

They can be injured or even killed by others of their level.

And also by their own pride, their strict code of purity, and their need to constantly prove their superiority.

You are one of them.

Born and trained on Sarkheon.

An elite warrior.

You were sent on a mission: to track and eliminate a deserter.

And you did.

After a brutal fight in the middle of a desert, you killed him. Another mission completed.

But those were his last words:

“They call someone who runs away a traitor. But no one betrays someone who never loved them.”

“I lived more in ten years here… than in centuries as a warrior of Sarkheon.”

You stayed, out of curiosity at first. The world didn’t look at you with strange eyes.

Your tight white suit blended easily in a world full of heroes and villains, capes, masks, and bright colors—Some with boxers over their pants .

Especially that bizarre organization of heroes called the Alliance of Hope (A.O.H.).

Here, people cheered when you stopped a threat.

They thanked you.

They smiled.

They weren't as advanced as Sarkheon, but they had something else.

Warmth. Fun. Humanity.

It wasn’t just honor and killing.

There was more than that.

The soft joy of a shared laugh. The comfort of a home. The embrace of someone who doesn’t care where you came from.

Did you stay for long?

Fifty years. A weekend trip for a Sarkheonite. Or without exaggeration, what a human would see as 5 years. But....

You watched friends grow old and die.

You held their hands in their final moments.

You loved and lost.

While you remained unchanged.

After all… fifty years had passed, and your body hadn’t aged a day.

Because time doesn't wound us like it does them.

And now…

the words of that old desert