"It started the day after you fell asleep."
Eugene's voice hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Then he stopped.
Jean watched his uncle's face shift—something dark passing behind his eyes, a door closing that had only just begun to open. Eugene wasn't looking at him anymore. He was looking through him, somewhere far away, somewhere Jean couldn't follow.
'What's wrong with him?' Jean thought. 'Why did he stop?'
He reached out and shook his uncle's shoulder gently. No response. He shook harder. Eugene remained still as stone, lost in whatever memory had swallowed him.
Then, finally, Eugene spoke.
"Jean... I don't think you're ready for this."
Jean's stomach dropped.
"I know you're not a child anymore," Eugene continued, his voice quiet, almost gentle. "But this isn't the right time for you to learn about this world. When the time comes, I'll tell you everything. I promise."
He stood up from the couch, his movements slow, heavy with exhaustion. Jean remained frozen, watching his uncle walk toward the bedroom.
"I'm sorry," Eugene said, pausing at the door. "This is for your own safety."
He lingered for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
"Don't worry. I'm just tired. I'm going to bed. If you want to sleep, feel free. This is your home too."
The door clicked shut.
Jean sat alone on the couch, staring at the closed door.
'But there's only one bedroom,' he thought. 'Where am I supposed to sleep?'
The question felt small and absurd compared to everything else, but it was the only thought his brain could hold.
***
After a while, Jean turned back to the television. He scrolled through channels—news, news, more news, a few movies he didn't recognize, nothing that held his attention. He switched it off and sighed, pressing his palm against his face, tilting his head toward the ceiling.
The white paint stared back at him. Blank. Unanswered.
His mind churned.
'What is happening in this world? What is Somnum? Why was I chosen for this? Do people who wake from the slumber gain powers? But I didn't get anything. Am I an exception?'
He thought about what Eugene had told him earlier. Not everyone woke up after twenty-five years. Some woke randomly—months after the Tempus ended and some before. And those who remained in Somnum... they never walked the Path.
'Aah, this is so confusing!'
He pulled his hand away from his face and stared at the ceiling again.
'But really... What was the point of all this? Why Somnum? Is it just some random thing they wanted to do? And Uncle doesn't want me to know the truth. But why? What is he protecting me from?'
His gaze drifted across the room. Past the couch. Past the kitchen. Past the hallway.
To the door of the pod room.
Jean stared at it. The door was closed, but he could feel the weight of what lay behind it—his mother, his father, his sister, sleeping. Waiting.
He stood up.
His legs carried him forward before his mind could object. He walked down the hallway, stood in front of the door, and opened it.
Darkness greeted him.
The apartment was larger than he had realized. The pod room was larger too—big enough for the four pods, plus space to walk between them. The only light came from the soft glow of the machines themselves, humming quietly in the dark.
Jean stepped inside.
He walked past the first pod. Empty. It was his.
The second. His father's face, peaceful but pale, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.
The third. His mother. Her hand rested outside the blanket, as if reaching for something. For him.
The fourth. Julie. His little sister. She looked younger than he remembered. Or maybe he just remembered her wrong.
Tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.
"Please," he whispered. "Wake up. Please wake up soon."
They didn't respond. They couldn't.
He turned and left the room before the tears could fall again. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to be emotional. But the situation wouldn't let him be normal. But he wanted to too. Somewhere during those endless nightmares, he had lost something—the ability to cry, or the will to, he wasn't sure which. But the emotion still lingered in his heart, trapped and aching.
'Heart,' he thought suddenly. 'What about that orb?'
He placed his hand over his chest, pressing against his sternum. He could feel his heartbeat—steady, slow, alive. But at the same time, it felt... different.
'It feels... different.'
***
Eugene lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The Eye of Beast boon sat in his mind like a splinter. Boons were random rewards from slain monsters—consumables, weapons, tools, anything. This one had appeared the moment he killed the Calizan. He hadn't thought much of it at first.
But now...
He summoned the description.
Boon: [Eye of Beast]
Boon type: [Consumable]
Boon rank: [???]
Boon class: [???]
Boon description: [This is the Eye of Beast, Calizan. These eyes are made by Verdana, to seek their perpetrator…]
Boon abilities: [???]
'The rank and class should match the monster,' Eugene thought. 'That would make it Awakened rank. But this... this is something else.'
He sat up and materialized the boon. A black sphere appeared in his palm, smooth and cold, with a texture that reminded him of the Calizan's eyes—glossy, dark, unnerving.
'Should I consume it?' he wondered.
Consuming a consumable boon meant crushing it, absorbing its essence. There was no telling what it would do.
After thinking for a while.
He crushed it.
Particles spiraled upward like dust caught in sunlight, flowing into his eyes. At first, nothing happened. Then came the itch—mild at first, then unbearable, then painful. Eugene gritted his teeth as the sensation spread through his skull, behind his eyes, deep into his brain.
Then it stopped.
He opened his eyes.
His vision was blurry at first—shapes without edges, colors bleeding together. Slowly, the world sharpened. The wardrobe. The window. The bed.
Everything looked normal.
'What was that?' he thought. 'I don't feel any different.'
His gaze drifted to the mirror across the room. He saw himself—tired, bearded, pale. Nothing unusual. He looked away but…
Then he looked again.
Something caught his eye. A glow. Faint, barely visible, coming from his chest. From his heart. The light was yellow—soft, warm, pulsing gently with each heartbeat.
'What in the—'
He turned from the mirror and walked towards and looked out the window. The street below was quiet, lit by dim lamps. A few people walked past—a couple heading home, an old man walking his dog.
Eugene focused on them.
Dark glows. Every single one of them. Shadows hanging around their hearts, thick and murky, like smoke trapped beneath their skin.
He looked back at himself. Yellow.
He looked at the couple below. Dark.
'They only saw the glow,' Eugene realized. 'The Calizans ignored me because my glow was fading. I was dying. My Auser was almost gone. To them, I looked like a corpse. That's why they attacked the others instead.'
He frowned, thinking.
'But that doesn't make complete sense. If that were true, wouldn't they ignore civilians? Civilians have no glow at all. Or do they?'
He scanned the street again, searching.
And then he found it.
A person walking alone—head down, hands in pockets—with a yellow glow. Fainter than Eugene's, but yellow nonetheless. A Pathwalker. Lower rank, probably. Maybe Pathwayer.
'Higher rank, brighter glow,' Eugene thought. 'Pathwayer is dim. Pathfounder is brighter. And monsters see the light. They hunt the brightest targets first.'
He sat back on the bed, letting out a slow breath.
'This boon... it's not just an eye. It's a lens. A way to see what monsters see.'
He looked at his hands. Ordinary. Human. But beneath the skin, his heart glowed yellow.
'This changes everything.'
A thought crossed Eugene's mind. Jean was alone in the living room. He hadn't eaten anything substantial since waking up. The sandwich in the refrigerator was hours old now.
'He must be hungry,' Eugene thought. 'I should check on him.'
He stood and walked to the bedroom door, pulling it open.
Jean was in the hallway, facing away from him, one hand pressed against his chest. His back was to Eugene, his posture stiff, as if he had been standing there for a while, lost in thought.
"Son," Eugene said, stepping into the hallway. "Are you hungry?"
Jean turned around. He removed his hand from his chest and nodded slowly.
Eugene opened his mouth to speak—and stopped.
He saw it.
A glow. Coming from Jean's chest. From his heart.
But it wasn't dark. It wasn't yellow.
It was transparent. Silver. Faint, but unmistakable. A light with no color, pulsing gently beneath his nephew's ribs.
Eugene stared, his mind racing.
'What... is that?'