[Non-Canon Story] The Time-Travelling Prophet

He wasn't known to be remarkable. He wasn't as audacious and as pious as his colleagues in everything he does. Hell, he doesn't even practice any religion. But, if there were to be an ace up his sleeve, it's his naturality in Physics. As a freelancer, he'd studied many ways around it, charging people a median sum of money to make bridge designs. He'd been doing this ad nauseam, and naturally felt like doing something else to cure his boredom surrounded by material tensions and concrete volumes all day. Today, however, he'd managed to do the impossible. Inventing a time machine has been one of the most difficult aspects of technology that was left out of development simply due to budget constraints, even though the one to initiate such research was from Kshtirawar, one of the most generous nations when it comes to R&D budgeting to its researchers.

While his version of this time machine was crude, one of the pioneering features is that it was able to capture a picture from that timeframe and send it back to the present without any loss in information. I can't explain to you how it works simply because of my lacking of understanding of physics itself, as the concept of time wasn't well known at my time. He'd successfully transferred bread to one of the universes there 500 years to the past. Due to the nature of changing timelines, he can't send it to his own timeline, as it would break the very concept of time itself, a rule that became law because someone tried sending a human subject 1000 years into the past, and for it to never return, and Kshtirawar would suffer a massive civil war with the neighbouring countries with no basis of origin of whenever the idea of such war even came from. When presented with a roundtable discussion, all of the leaders concluded that their reasonings on the enactment of the wars didn't make sense, and subsequently gave up on the war unilaterally.

2 years after that...

And so forth I tell them; "For all deeds you've done, to extricate yourself of such mundane, unimportant, and most silly of curses, so forth to lead humanity in good faith, lead yourself to a mountain only separated but only by a lush, deep, and undiscovered forest where your thinking is to be destroyed by your own mind, though as if you're gone with various diseases, looming over you like an inebriated cow sticking its dung right in front of your face."

"Such requirements, are you sure this is true?" He asked. Whilst the tempation to strip oneself of such curse still remains, his determination and soon followed by many others with him had died down.

Bongodows Professional.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

Those are the only words circling through his empty mind, the only two things throbbing even a tinge of his cranium, for there is no other way to think after being faced with such consequence. "But I can offer you some other way into this; You help me sell bitcoin to multiple of your own kindreds, and soon after get back to me with cash that I shall use to multiply my shares of Meta, for I want those free Meta Ray-Bans over my head--and as a reward, I'll let you fly over the forest--for free!" Said the prophet, clearly blinded by greed.

Facing a clearly more ridiculous requirement, he thought to ask,"what is this ' bitcoin ', sir? What is a ' Meta ', sir? I have as your devout follower ever heard of those." Clearly, he hasn't grasped a single knowledge about him.

He's a time traveler! One who was promised to their kind 3000 years ago.

They've taken him, a simpleton who happens to master their language as their prophet; with some people regarding him as their "god" of some sort. Clearly a fallacy he created to fool these people, and such words have fallen from his mouth.

I don't know how to explain these to them! Aren't these recent, technobabble-esque words to those simple brains!?

Those questions have been left out of his mind, and he thought of an answer; "That is none of your problem. I have but other things to tend to." He left them to their confusion, elaborating on exactly nothing that they have asked for, and as if they can possibly decipher the words that he has said to them, words that sound like they are a chant of some religion. Some people havve indeed register them as chants--albeit not knowing what they meant by such--continues to do so throughout the 5 days which passed on pretty quickly. The prophet, now only by himself can only ponder regarding whatever he has managed to instill onto those people's minds.

For they are a backwards set of people. People who don't know better."

* * *

The sixth day has started. The sun only barely showed itself and the village is still covered with moonlight only countered by the fire torches that prophet had made and introduced to them 4 days prior. Of those people they were the first people to have rediscovered fire, after abandoning it for an unknown period. The village itself and its communities rely on agricultural prowess, which the prophet acclaimed by himself who declared its strengths, verbatim, "Not mid, like what my other kind have faces with," one time when he was asked about that topic by a children passing by, in front of that child's farm passed down by their parents, hanging atop a stick in front of their much broken down home.

Such grotesque views to have blessed his eyes, or not really, is dependent on your views of mortals, whether they will return back to life at some point, or to be left perished with the undying trials of time, to be forgotten, and to not be remembered.

The children was neither angry, nor mad, neither sad or mournful. He was stoic. As retelled before, his parents hanged themselves for a certain reason. The child could only accept his newfound fate; A farmer on their former land.

Such has the prophet has surmised; This village was indeed backwards. They have not known of the concept of time, much to his surprise.