I blinked on realizing how lost in those old memories I’d gotten, and looked at my drawing tablet to see that my idle drawing had been ruined by the random line and scratches I’d left. I chuckled at my mistake, erasing the damage before continuing. Once I’d cleaned it up, I continued, drawing it out. I’d gotten good at art over the centuries, aiming for a more traditional artstyle, though recently I’d gotten over my distaste to newer art styles to begin drawing digital. Despite my immortality and drive to learn more and more, it was only in recent years that I began to learn about the benefits of technology. Even coding, one of the things I used to support myself, was a reletively new skill for me.

Still, I was getting better at it. The drawing was just a bit of fan art for practice, some comic characters fighting over a city, but it was a good way to stretch my skills. Once I was done with the basic sketch work, I put the tablet down and checked the clock.

I had some time. A couple of hours. Good for a workout.

I went into my workout room, which had been a guest room when I rented the apartment, and began to workout. Chest and back day meant lots of bench pressing and rows, and thankfully I’d made enough money to afford the equipment. It took a lot of weight and reps to get me tired, especially as I’d gotten stronger over the years, but I managed to get up a sweat. Something I was glad to note was normal sweat, as opposed to some form of ectoplasm.

Working out, drawing, even the writing I did on the side, they were… important. They reminded me I could improve in someways, feel stress and exhaustion, could fail. Could, in some way, be human. I was a monster, true, but I could rise above it. Maybe it was a dumb thought, but even an immortal is allowed a few of those.

After a few rounds with the thousand pounds on my weight machines, I began the next part of my workout.

First, I moved some of the furniture in my living room out of the way and began to shadow fight. My fighting style had been developed over decades, starting from the days when I found my first true friend. It had started with what is now called Ko-ryū or “ancient martial arts”, though it been new when I learned it. After that, I’d learned more and more, sometimes from a master willing to ignore my strange appearance, more often just from fighting off those attacking me for my appearance.

I punched, kicked, and twisted, fighting invisible attackers, focusing on disabling blows at first, then shifting to killing blows. I no longer killed, not for years, but if necessary…

My thoughts shifted to focus, discarding thought for movement. And as I moved, the lightning began to flow within me. The reason none of my electronics were in the living room was because of this. Over the years, as I became stronger, something… developed, within me. In many ways, it was always inside me but only became apparent after I’d turned twelve years of age.

The pale white bolts of electricity began to flow out of my arms and legs, moving as I did. I punched my left fist, and the white lightning turned red for a brief instant. I focused as I sliced out with an uppercut, and the lightning shifted to green, splashing upwards against the ceiling on a spot I had covered in insulated material. I brought my hands together, put them to my waist as I crouched in a fighting stance. Lightning gathered in my palms, solidifying into a ball of powerful plasma. With a thrust, the ball flew out at incredible speed. Just before it hit a wall, I ‘grabbed’ it out of the air, my left fist clenched.

There is no way to truly explain what it feels like to have the lightning. Over the years, I’d become a fan of comics and other forms of fiction. At first, like many, I’d disdained them, thinking of comic books and other media as something made for children. Foolishness. In the words of C.S. Lewis, “When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” I take those words to heart now when I begin to show disdain for some new form of media, science, or technology.

Over the years, I’d gained a lot of control over my powers using fiction and science to guide me. As soon as I realized I had the lightning that had given birth to me flowing in my heart, I’d begun practicing, at the push of my first master. And feeling that power, the burning in my veins that warmed me to the point of scalding, just at the edge of hurting me. I could feel more of the lightning around me, from my computer and video game consoles in the other room, the various lines of power in the apartment around me, to the several city blocks beyond. In this new world, where electricity was king, I had access to more than I could ever want. I was stronger than ever. Not that I could do anything with it.

If it wasn’t for the internet of the modern world and the letters I sent to magazines and newspapers before that, being forced to hide my gifts would have grated. Now, I could send my thoughts out to the world, write stories, theories, reviews, and more, all anonymously. It wasn’t perfect. But when the thought that I was obtaining all these skills with no one to share it with began to rage within me, I had something to let me fight.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

I smiled sadly. There I went, becoming meloncholy again. Here I was, with the power of lightning, a good home, and all these other gifts so many in the world couldn’t have, the things I hadn’t had, and I was feeling sorry for myself.

I pulled the ball of lightning close to myself, twisting it through the air, adding more power to it, then absorbing it. I turned the power magnetic for just an instant, feeling it connect to the metal around me as it pulled all of it in, then turned it back before my spoons and knives started flying toward it.

After some more practice, I stopped with a relaxed breath, sighing a bit. Working my muscles and powers always relaxed me, made me feel less pent up. I grabbed my towel and cleaned myself off, then made a phone call to the people I’d been making the website for. It rang for a while as I strode around the apartment, before going to voice mail. Unworried, I called again, waiting patiently.

Finally it answered and I briefly told them I’d finished. They were a bit rude, but they still paid me for my work, and we were done.

Then I called someone more personally important. She answered on the second ring, her voice bright and cheery.

“Mr. Sinraj! How are you?”

“I’m quite well, Mrs. Daniels. I’m calling about my previous request, if I’m not bothering you of course?”

She chuckled, sounding relaxed. I sat down at my chair and brought up a website belonging to Monarch, a company in Chicago that had started in Germany a few years ago, was dedicated to genetics, robotics, and other money making sciences.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing some research on the company, like you asked. So far they’re shady but they haven’t been out and out illegal. What are you checking them for, anyway?” she asked.

“Seeing if they’re doing anything crazy. Cloning, super-soldiers, bringing the dead back to life, that sort of thing,” I said as glibly as I could while bringing up an article.

She chuckled at that. “Well, so far there’s nothing crazy. Monarch Industries, a company made in Germany, made their first profit with a chemical that can break down oil in sea water. Which, yay for the enviroment, if it wasn’t for the fact it costs more than my kidneys for an ounce of the stuff. Only slightly exagerrating…” her voice took on a disappointed tone. “I’m going to do some more research but I haven’t found anything crazy. Seems like these guys don’t have what you were looking for. You know, you don’t have to pay me for finding nothing?”

I smiled. “Depends. Sometimes, nothing is exactly what I want to find. Anyways, thank you again Mrs. Daniels.”

“Eliza, please,” she said warmly. “I think I’ve known you long enough by now.”

“Then call me Adam from now on,” I clicked on another link, bringing up another company I was interested in. “Have a good day.”

“Same to you!” Mrs. Daniels hung up, leaving me to think.

I’d spent a lot of time on this, hiring private investigators, speaking to scientists, researchers, anyone who might know something, even a couple of fake psychics and mystics in my more desperate moments. Trying to find others like me, or like Victor at the least. People making something like me.

I thought I’d succeeded a few times. Found monsters across the world, even fought them, sometimes befriended them. But so far, even in this age of incredible oppulence and marvels, after over two hundred years, I was still alone.

I had no idea how I felt about that. If I found a monster, would I find a family of my own? Or just one more person trying to hate me? Would I help someone making more of me, or stop them from making a killer? I liked to think I would treat such things on a case by case basis. But even with all my experience, all this time… I don’t know what I would truly do.

Still, I searched. Mrs. Daniels, my latest ‘partner’ in my quest, lived in Chicago, and had an excellent reputation for private investigation, making her my choice to research Monarch. Yet, it had turned up another dead end. But, I had also made a friend in Daniels, who had proven to be far more bubbly than I was used to. I liked her. She would probably scream if she actually saw me but it was still nice to speak to her over the phone. She had a wife and two children that she spoke about constantly. I wondered what that was like.

There I go again. Meloncholy. Well, it is my birthday after all.

I spent a bit of time doing research on my new target, a company called JT International that was working on breast cancer cures. Nothing crazy, but I tended to look into as much as I could no matter how small the chances. After that, I cooked up some pizza, leftovers that had been delivered to me, then spent the rest of the day editing a book on the Second World War I had written. I was working under a pseudonym of course, and I couldn’t reveal how much of my knowledge of the war came first-hand, let alone a few of the stranger projects I’d had to shut down when I realized what the Nazi’s had planned, but it was still a book I felt proud of. Once finished, I simply rested in my chair and played video games. Single player on one of my favorite RPG’s, rather than a multiplayer game. I didn’t feel like having a small child scream at me because I was better at games than he was.

It was quiet, possibly even boring to some. But compared to other parts of my life, I was in heaven. Ending things by slaying a dragon, I turned off the console and went to bed, satisfied with my day.