Ethan Soren sat in the quiet sterility of the doctor's office, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead doing nothing to quell the storm brewing in his mind. The room felt too cold, too small—he had never been comfortable in places like this. The plush leather chair seemed to swallow him as the doctor's words echoed in his head, sinking like stones into the deep pit of fear that had opened up inside him.
"Anaplastic meningioma." The term itself felt alien. Foreign. Not a part of him, but now here it was, nestled deep inside his brain, the stage set for a fight he didn't ask for and wasn't sure he wanted to wage.
The doctor continued, his tone carefully measured, delivering life-altering news with a calm professionalism that somehow felt crueler for its detachment. "The tumor's location makes complete removal difficult, Ethan. Surgery is an option, but we have to be realistic. Radiation therapy and chemotherapy can extend your life expectancy, but…"
The words blurred together. Surgery, radiation, chemo, survival rates, stages—everything sounded like noise. Static. Ethan's mind kept coming back to the only sentence that truly mattered.
"You could live for another two years... maybe five with aggressive treatment."
But I will still die in the end, right? Ethan thought to himself. He stared at the doctor, waiting for some shred of hope, some assurance that things would be different for him, that fate would cut him a deal this time. But the doctor's face gave nothing away.
"What's the point?" Ethan's voice cracked as he spoke, hollow and defeated. "What's the point of any of it if the end is the same?"
The doctor sighed, empathy in his eyes but no real answer to offer. "It's true that we can't predict everything, but Ethan… miracles do happen. Sometimes."
A knock at the door interrupted the somber exchange, and a nurse stepped in with a file. Ethan half-smiled, a fleeting gesture that didn't reach his eyes. He knew the conversation was over.
"I'll think about it," Ethan muttered as he rose to leave, his body heavy with exhaustion. "Thanks, Doc."
As Ethan exited the office, his assistant Corey was already by his side, tapping briskly on a sleek tablet, the screen glowing with a series of appointments and notifications. Corey had always been efficient, seamlessly managing Ethan's life with the precision of a well-tuned machine. In a world that felt increasingly chaotic, Corey's steady presence was the only thing that remained predictable.
"Your next meeting is with the executive candidates for Ascension Corp," Corey began.
Ethan cut him off. "Cancel everything. No meetings today."
Corey paused, surprised. "Are you sure? The interviews are important, Ethan. We're hiring the next round of executives."
For a moment, Ethan hesitated. Ascension Corp had become his life's work, his empire, and his escape. He had built it from nothing—first a tech company, then a conglomerate that spanned industries. At just 20 years old, he had everything he could ever want. Except, it seemed, more time.
He glanced at Corey. "Alright. Cancel everything except the interviews."
The drive to Ascension Corp's headquarters was quiet, Ethan lost in thought. The cancer felt like a cruel joke—he had always been good at everything he did, had always won. And yet, this was a fight he couldn't outthink, outwork, or outmaneuver.
Arriving at the towering glass building that was the symbol of his success, Ethan allowed himself a brief moment of pride. He had built this. No matter what happened, Ascension Corp would continue.
As they stepped inside, the buzz of activity hit them immediately. The large hall where the interviews were taking place was filled with hopeful applicants—some nervous, others self-assured, most sitting in stiff business attire waiting for their chance.
Ethan didn't want to deal with the process directly. Instead, he opted to observe the interviews from behind a two-way mirror in an adjacent room. It allowed him to get a sense of the candidates without having to engage directly, something he lacked the energy for today.
Group after group filed in, each answering the same predictable questions about leadership, experience, and vision for Ascension. None of them stood out to Ethan. They were competent, sure. But nothing more.
Then, the 48th group entered.
One candidate immediately caught Ethan's attention. A man with ash-blonde hair, who seemed different from the others—calm, almost casual. His name, according to the notes in front of Ethan, was Arthur Eternal.
"Eternal?" Ethan murmured, intrigued. "That's an unusual last name."
He leaned forward, watching as Arthur fielded the standard questions with ease, his smile never fading. But what struck Ethan wasn't just the man's confidence. It was something else, a certain presence, as if Arthur was quietly aware of things beyond the room, beyond the company, beyond the interview itself.
"Corey," Ethan said, his voice low, "tell the panel to ask him this: What would you do if you had all the money in the world but couldn't cure yourself of death?"
Corey hesitated. The question was far from the typical interview fare. But after a moment, he nodded and relayed the instruction to the panel.
One of the executives cleared his throat and posed the question to Arthur.
Without missing a beat, Arthur's smile broadened, his eyes almost twinkling as if the question amused him. "I would use the money to do something that would make me feel satisfied, with no regrets, so that even death is not something to fear."
The room went silent. Arthur's voice was steady, almost serene as he continued. "People fear death because they have unfinished business, unfulfilled desires. If you know you're dying, and you have the resources, you'd do everything in your power to satisfy those desires. Then death becomes… irrelevant."
One of the executives pushed further. "But what if you don't have the resources?"
Arthur's smile didn't waver. "Why wouldn't you? Didn't you say you have all the money in the world? With enough resources, you could invent technologies to delay death, or even put yourself in suspended animation until a cure is found. The real enemy isn't death. It's time."
The answer lingered in the air, leaving everyone—including the other applicants—stunned. It was true. In the grand scheme of things, death was inevitable, but that didn't mean you couldn't fight it. Arthur's perspective was refreshing, even comforting in a way that Ethan didn't expect.
Ethan felt a strange, hollow stirring in his chest. There was something about Arthur's words that resonated with him, something he couldn't quite place. The idea that death wasn't the true enemy—that with the right mindset, it could be faced head-on without fear.
He found himself smiling. For the first time in days, Ethan felt something shift inside him. Arthur wasn't just answering a hypothetical question. He was challenging the very way Ethan had been thinking about his own mortality.
"I like him," Ethan said quietly. "Hire him. Dismiss the rest."
He stood, ready to leave, but as he reached the door, a voice stopped him.
"Also..."
Ethan turned at the panel again. Arthur, his calm smile still in place, but there was something in his eyes that made Ethan pause.
"I just wanted to say," Arthur continued, stepping forward slightly, "that sometimes, when faced with the impossible, it's not about what we fear losing. It's about what we still have left to give."
Ethan stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the directness of the statement.
"You seem pretty certain of that." said one of the panels.
Arthur's smile widened, though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, something ancient and knowing. "Let's just say I've had some experience with these things."
As Ethan left the room, something strange tugged at his thoughts. That guy—Arthur—he felt like more than just another interviewee. It was as though he knew something, as though he had a glimpse into Ethan's own struggle. But that was impossible... wasn't it?
As the day turned into night and the lights of the city twinkled below from his office window, Ethan found himself replaying the strange encounter over and over in his mind. Who was this Arthur Eternal? There was something otherworldly about him, something that Ethan couldn't quite explain. But beyond that, Arthur had sparked something in Ethan that he hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
It was fragile, flickering like a candle in a storm, but it was there. For the first time since his diagnosis, Ethan felt a pull to fight—not just to survive, but to live. And perhaps, just perhaps, this enigmatic man named Arthur held more answers than Ethan could ever have imagined.
Little did Ethan know, their paths were only just beginning to intertwine, and the journey ahead would take him far beyond the limits of this world… and deep into the eternal mysteries that Arthur knew all too well.
Outside, the city roared on, oblivious to the fact that Ethan Soren had just crossed paths with someone who might change everything. But Ethan had felt it, a subtle shift in the air, a presence that was as powerful as it was mysterious.
The countdown to his death might have begun, but today, for the first time in a long time, Ethan didn't feel entirely alone.