Eugene wasn't on the battlefield anymore.
He was in his car, patched up, healed, and as recovered as he could manage after the ordeal. The tires hummed against the empty streets as he drove toward home.
The city was hollow. It would take time for people to emerge from the safe shelters—the underground bunkers, the off-world colonies humanity had carved out on distant planets. The streets would fill again. Just not yet.
"Can't believe this either," Eugene muttered, glancing at the sky. "Space travel. Well, technically through portals, but still."
He smiled, but the expression didn't last. The image of Viktor's body flashed through his mind. They hadn't been close—not really. Just two Pathfounders who had fought side by side when duty called. But that was enough. In this world, anyone who stood beside you against a rift was more than a colleague. They were family.
'Past is past,' he told himself. 'But… it still hurts.'
The truth of it settled in his chest like a bruise. This was the world now—for Pathwalkers and mundane humans alike. All they could do was learn from what they lost and keep moving forward.
He turned left, then right, and the neighborhood came into view. People walked the sidewalks—children holding their parents' hands, elderly couples sitting on park benches, their faces tilted toward the sky as a warm wind mixed with something cooler. Kids played in the grass, their laughter carrying across the street while their parents watched from the sidelines.
Eugene pulled into the community where he lived. He parked in his spot—still unfamiliar, still not quite feeling like his own—and stepped out.
'I may be changing too,' he thought, watching the families around him. 'No... I must change. I have to.'
The community was lively for no reason he could see. No decorations. No signs of a festival. Just people living, laughing, existing in the quiet moments between disasters.
He smiled.
Then he headed toward his building, taking the stairs slowly. Halfway up, a thought struck him.
'I need to call the hospital. Let them know Jean woke up from Somnum. They'll want to run tests, make sure he's stable.'
He yawned, exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders. "But first, rest. I'm too tired to deal with paperwork tonight."
He took another step, then paused.
'Wait. I got a boon from the Calizan, didn't I? Let's see what it is.'
***
A soft hum music was playing in the background of a small sized apartment.
Jean sat on the couch, the television playing softly in the background. It was a smart TV—something he was still getting used to—with apps and streaming services and more content than he could ever watch. But he wasn't interested in entertainment. He had the news on instead.
The reports were mundane. Rebuilding efforts. Rift activity in distant regions. Political debates about resource allocation. Nothing about the twenty-five years he had lost. Nothing about the Tempus, or the Path, or the world that had been remade while he slept.
He needed Eugene. His uncle was the only one who could explain what had happened.
The door opened.
Jean rose from the couch, his legs still weak from decades of disuse, and walked toward the entrance. Eugene stepped inside, his clothes clean but his face drawn, shadows under his eyes darker than before.
'Didn't I tell him to eat?' Eugene thought, guilt flickering through his exhaustion. 'There wasn't much left in the refrigerator. I should have stocked up before I left.'
Before he could say anything, Jean crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around him.
Eugene stiffened for a moment—surprised—then relaxed and hugged back.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The embrace said everything Jean couldn't put into words: I'm glad you're alive. I was worried. Thank you for coming back.
When Jean finally pulled away, his eyes were bright but his voice was steady.
"Thanks for saving us from the rift, Uncle Eugene."
The words hit Eugene somewhere deep. He had waited to hear something like that for so long—through the Tempus, through the endless loops, through the years of watching his family sleep while the world burned around him. Now, finally, he had heard it.
Relief surged through his chest, warm and unexpected.
'It feels good,' he realized. 'It feels... right.'
Jean tilted his head, noticing something in Eugene's expression. "What's wrong?"
Eugene shook his head lightly. "Nothing."
He paused, then smiled—a real smile, tired but genuine.
"Don't worry. Your uncle is here for you. For all of you. That's not going to change."
Later, they sat together on the couch. Jean's attention kept drifting to the television, marveling at the interface, the apps, the sheer amount of information available at a touch.
"Wow," he breathed. "Technology really boomed, didn't it?"
Eugene chuckled. "Smart TVs existed before, you know."
Jean shrugged. His family had never had one. Just an old set with local channels, enough for the news and whatever shows happened to be playing. But that wasn't important now.
"Uncle Eugene," he said, turning to face him fully. "What exactly happened during those twenty-five years? The Tempus. The loops. Everything. I need to know."
Eugene didn't answer immediately. His gaze had drifted somewhere past Jean, his lips moving silently.
"Eye of Beast, huh?" he murmured to himself.
Jean frowned. "Eye of Beast? What's that?"
Eugene blinked, coming back to the present. "Nothing. Just a boon I picked up from a monster I killed."
Jean tilted his head.
He knew what boons were—the knowledge was buried somewhere in the memories The Voice had given him. But knowing and understanding were different things. He filed the question away for later.
"Uncle," he pressed. "The twenty-five years. Please."
Eugene looked at him for a long moment. His nephew's face was pale, still too thin, still carrying the ghost of the boy who had gone to sleep a quarter century ago. But there was something else in his eyes now. Something that hadn't been there before.
Determination. Hunger for understanding. The need to know.
"Will you be able to handle it?" Eugene asked quietly.
Jean nodded without hesitation.
Eugene sighed and leaned back into the couch. "Well, it's your wish. To be honest, I was going to tell you anyway, even if you hadn't asked."
Jean's eyes locked onto his uncle's. His full attention, his entire being, focused on the words about to come.
Eugene took a breath.
"It started the day after you fell asleep..."