The road ahead of him seemed endless. Going back was not an option. All he could do was keep going, struggling against an intense lethargy beckoning him to lay down and rest.
He knew that this was the worst he could do. The moment he would rest, he would never get up again, and thus abandon his journey.
The journey he was on was unlike any he had ever been on. He used to be an adventurer full of joy and curiosity for all the new things he would discover. Whenever he left on an adventure he would eventually come back with a heart full of experiences and a bag full of mysterious objects he found along the way.
He lived his life the way he wanted and felt his way was a celebration of life, unlike any other way.
This is until he had started on the journey that was meant to be his last one.
One day, an anonymous letter informed him about an undiscovered land that many had tried to reach but no one ever returned from. Every man who had tried to reach this land had disappeared without a trace. Some of the names of those men were familiar to him; they were his fellow adventurers — men sharing his passion for novelty and exploration.
When this letter had reached him he knew he had to go. Not only did he owe it to the brave men who tried before him but also to his inner spirit — the burning flame committed to follow the wind of any promising adventure.
Besides, he was confident in his ability. No matter how many men have failed, he would not. He felt chosen for this life and never met anyone who could best his abilities.
So with this letter as his first clue and his trusted backpack, he had started out on the journey.
He had known he had a long lonely walk before him. He didn’t mind. He was used to it.
On those long journeys, he had plenty of time to think. He liked to think. He liked to think about values and morals and reality. He liked to ask himself questions about the world, about nature, about how everything works.
And then see if he could give himself adequate answers.
He was by no means a theoretical philosopher. Actually, he despised all ivory-tower men who talked about life instead of living it. He saw himself as a certain type of philosopher — a pragmatic one.
Yet, he couldn’t deny that he was also a hedonist.
As much as he enjoyed going on adventures that forced him to relinquish comfort, he enjoyed luxury and all the pleasures life had to offer. And he had the means to enjoy them. His many adventures made him a famous and wealthy man.
All this, however, was merely a pleasant byproduct to him. Going on journeys was his one true love and nothing in the world could stop him from it, not even his fondness of pleasures.
He was also a moral man.
His moral compass was a rational one. He prided himself on being rational and just, never hurting anyone or anything if it could be avoided. In all his journeys he always remained loyal to his integrity, which was why he was proud of every adventure he accomplished.
But this had changed on this treacherous journey he was one.
He had betrayed every code he had. To move further on this journey he had to lie, cheat, steal, and even murder.
He was no longer the man he was when he started this journey. The things he was proud of he could no longer be proud of. The ideas he had about himself and life were brutally shattered against the rock that was his current reality.
And this was why he could no longer stop or go back.
If he abandoned this journey now, all of the inhuman actions he had committed would be utterly pointless. He couldn’t go on living like that.
So he went on walking.
He hacked through dense jungle, swam across an endless sea, crossed a scorched desert, and shivered through a snowstorm all to find this promised undiscovered land.
The people he had met on his previous adventures were usually kind and helpful, and if they had been suspicious or guarded he had always found a way to disarm them and convince them of his harmlessness.
On this journey, however, the people he met were anything but kind and helpful. He was seduced and beaten and robbed. And every time he thought finally met someone nice, he was betrayed and double-crossed.
His back was full of metaphorical knives. He never imagined that he would meet villains that seemed outright evil. But there they were, each one more malicious than the next one.
He couldn’t believe it.
Never before were his convictions tested like this. With each step, he had to discard one idea or belief he held dear. With each step, he had to leave a part of himself behind.
The pain this journey caused him was only alleviated by a strange sense of lightness that would be apparent with every part discarded.
He walked on.
He reached a treacherous mountain range that stood before him in defiance. It seemed absurd to try and cross these mountains. He felt nothing.
How long was he on this journey already? He didn’t know. It could have been weeks, or months, or years. But his body wouldn’t stop.
This strange sense of lightness allowed him to keep going.
He had almost lost everything and as he was now, he could never go back to his previous life. His previous life was no longer his because he was no longer him. No one would recognize him, he mused briefly as he was ascending the steep mountain face.
There was nothing to go back to.
There was nothing to look forward to either. He was almost convinced that the journey he was on was leading nowhere. But he had already crossed the point where he worried about his life or what would happen to him.
He was reduced to one function — moving.
One step after another he got closer to nowhere. His numb, bloody hands gripped tightly to frozen rocks. The pain he felt was reduced to a minor inconvenience.
The peak was in sight. But he knew that the peak was just another place he would leave behind. The peak was not the goal.
What was the goal? When would he be done with whatever he was doing? he wondered.
He reached the peak and looked around.
He had been in a cynical mood these past days or weeks or months. But the panoramic mountaintop view washed this mood away.
The sun was warming his skin. The never-ending views were caressing his tired eyes. He felt like he could see the whole path he had taken. It was magnificent.
For a moment he forgot where he was and what he was doing. He didn’t care that the other side of the mountain looked even more treacherous.
As he stood on the mountaintop, caught in the momentary spell of the panoramic view, he suddenly felt a strange, otherworldly vibration beneath his feet. The ground began to tremble, and the sky above darkened as if a storm was gathering.
But this was no ordinary storm.
From the horizon, an enormous, ancient structure emerged. It was a colossal, hovering city with intricate, crystalline spires and breathtaking architecture, unlike anything he had ever seen before. The city was bathed in a surreal, otherworldly glow that made it look like it was plucked from a science fiction novel.
As the city descended to the mountaintop, a portal opened, and beings from another dimension, shimmering with an iridescent light, disembarked.
They were peaceful, ethereal creatures who communicated through thoughts and emotions. They introduced themselves as the “Harbingers of Enlightenment.”
They explained that the journey he had undertaken was not about reaching a physical destination or shedding his former self, as he had believed. Instead, it was a test to prove his capacity for transformation, resilience, and adaptability. It was a trial to see if he could evolve beyond his mortal limitations and become part of a higher cosmic order.
The adventurer was given a choice – to return to his old life and forget this encounter or join them in their quest to explore the universe, learn its deepest secrets, and embrace a life beyond human comprehension.
He stood there unmoving, looking at these creatures as one would look at a yapping dog.
In that moment he knew his journey wasn’t over. He scoffed at the self-proclaimed “Harbingers of Enlightenment” and began descending the mountain.
Luka
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