The second ordeal then happened.
Genzai walked along the endless road, each step heavy as if the weight of the world pressed down on him. His feet moved mechanically, in rhythm with the pulse of the ground, but his mind was a storm of confusion.
The trees were too still. The air was too thick.
It was as if the world had lost its color, its warmth. There were no sounds of life, no birds, no laughter, no voices. Just an empty stretch of road that seemed to go on forever.
Was he happier in the past?
The thought was a ghost, a whisper of a life he once had. The laughter, the warmth, the simple joy of his family, all burned away by fire and time. The present, the real world, felt like an unending torment.
He looked at his hands, pale and thin. The skin, once vibrant, now clung to bone like parchment. His face was a mask, stripped of any emotion. Was it peace? Or just the hollow echo of despair?
He kept walking, though. His feet dragged, but there was nothing else to do. This was his life now, a walking corpse in a world he didn't recognize.
As he moved, he felt a presence, not physical, but a weight that pressed upon him. A familiar voice cut through the emptiness:
"What does the present mean to you, Genzai?"
It was Archaeus.
Genzai's steps faltered for a moment as the question echoed through his mind. The present. What did it mean?
Archaeus whispered, "Why do you keep walking? What do you want from this empty world?"
At some point, he stopped. A figure had appeared far down the road. His heart jumped. He squinted, his steps faltering. "Mom?"
The figure didn't move. It stood still, a silhouette of someone he couldn't quite make out. Genzai's pace quickened, desperation bubbling up in his chest. "Mom? Dad? Is that you?"
The closer he got, the more the figure dissolved, breaking apart like ash on the wind. His knees buckled, and he fell forward, palms scraping against the asphalt. The emptiness swallowed him again.
Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
"Why do I keep walking? What's the point of all this?" he whispered to the still world.
The past was pain. The future felt empty. What could the present possibly hold for him? His parents were gone. There was nothing for him here, nothing that made the world worth living in.
Yet, in the stillness, in the weight of the moment, Genzai found the answer.
The present means that you are alive.
He stood still for a moment, letting the realization wash over him. He was alive. Despite the pain, despite the grief, he was still breathing. His life hadn't ended when his parents died. Time kept ticking, regardless of how he felt.
He was alive.
He looked around at the empty world. The road stretched on, but it was no longer a path to despair. It was a path forward, no matter how long it seemed. His life was the present, the here and now, and as long as he continued to move forward, his story wasn't over.
He walked forward again, his steps now steadier, his heart a little lighter. Time was still ticking, and so was he.
The road ended. But it didn't matter.
Archaeus's voice echoed softly in his mind:
"You understand now, Genzai. Your life is the present, and as long as you walk, it will continue to have meaning."
The third ordeal.
Genzai blinked as he found himself seated in a small wooden boat. The air was still, too quiet, and the only sound was the faint lapping of water against the sides of the boat. He looked around. The horizon stretched infinitely, no land in sight. Above him, the sky was painted in soft hues of orange and pink, the sun setting far in the distance.
The deep water beneath him seemed endless, dark and unknown. It held secrets, possibilities, and fears.
"Row the boat," came the familiar voice of Archaeus, distant but commanding.
Genzai's hands gripped the oars. Without question, he began to row. Each pull of the oars sent him gliding across the water, but the effort felt meaningless. The horizon remained fixed, and the water stretched forever.
He kept rowing. The muscles in his arms ached, his breaths grew heavy, but Genzai did not stop. It was all he could do, move forward.
As the sun dipped lower, its light kissed the water, turning it into a canvas of gold. For the first time in a long while, Genzai stared in awe. The sunset, fleeting and fragile, made something stir in his chest.
Was the future, bright?
But the warmth didn't last.
Dark clouds gathered without warning, swallowing the last rays of light. Thunder cracked across the sky, and rain began to fall, soft at first, then pounding relentlessly.
The boat rocked violently under him. Genzai shielded his face as sheets of water lashed against his skin, soaking him to the bone. The wind howled, and the waves grew monstrous, slamming into the small boat.
"What is this?!" he shouted into the storm, his voice drowned by the chaos.
A thunderous crack split the air. The boat splintered, wood groaning in its final moments. The waters rose to claim him.
Genzai went under.
The cold sea swallowed him whole, its weight an iron grip. He kicked, fighting for the surface, but the current dragged him deeper, unseen hands pulling him down. This is it, a voice whispered. I'm going to drown here.
It would be so much easier to stop struggling, to simply let go. To stop rowing toward a future that might not even be real.
"What does the future mean to you, Genzai?"
Archaeus's voice echoed through the abyss.
Genzai's eyes shot open, and he clenched his fists. The future?
The warmth was a lie. The endless possibilities of the sea were not promises, they were questions. The future was uncertain, unknown, but it was still his to decide.
I will not drown here.
With a surge of determination, he kicked against the pull of the deep. He fought against the weight of the water, against his doubts, against the fear of what the future held.
His hand broke the surface.
Gasping for air, Genzai clawed his way upward. He was alive. The storm had not defeated him.
Then, suddenly, everything went black.
When Genzai opened his eyes, the storm was gone. He was sitting on a smooth, cold surface.
Darkness surrounded him, but in front of him, a towering throne emerged from the void. It was massive and ornate, formed entirely of clocks, large and small, gears ticking, hands spinning, time echoing in every direction.
Seated upon the throne was a figure, shrouded in shadows but unmistakably powerful.
"You're really worth the time," came Archaeus's voice, sharp with amusement. A low chuckle reverberated through the void.
Archaeus leaned forward slightly, though his features remained obscured. With a flick of his wrist, a small object glimmered in the darkness, a watch. He tossed it to Genzai.
"Wear it."
Genzai caught the watch instinctively, his fingers trembling. The object was simple but elegant, its face pristine and hands unmoving. Without questioning, he slipped it onto his wrist.
The moment the watch clicked into place, Genzai felt a profound surge. Time itself seemed to slow for a beat, then accelerate, snapping him into perfect alignment with the universe around him.
Archaeus's voice was a low, final resonance.
"You finished the ordeals," he said, cutting to the chase. "I'll spare you the nonsense. You could have failed at any point, but you didn't."
Genzai met the figure's gaze, silent and resolute.
"You stopped living in the past. You walked through the present. And you persevered to claim your future."
Archaeus leaned back on his throne, clocks ticking louder as the air thickened.
"Genzai Mendoza: Your time starts now."
A single tick echoed, louder than the others.
Genzai jolted awake, gasping for air.
The sound of his breath echoed sharply in the empty, rusted building. The world was still, the silence almost suffocating, save for the faint creak of the wind pressing through shattered windows.
Genzai's gaze shot upward, the broken clock above him a twisted remnant of time's passage. Its face was splintered, its hands unmoving, a relic of the world he had come to despise.
Slowly, his breathing steadied, and his hand instinctively flew to his wrist.
There it was, the watch.
Genzai stared at it, his fingers brushing against the smooth glass face. It has a steady pulse, constant and alive. It grounded him, tethering him to the present.
The weight of everything hit him all at once.
The ordeals. The past he could never rewrite. The road he had walked endlessly. The ocean that had swallowed him, only to let him rise again.
Archaeus's voice echoed faintly in his mind: "What does the future mean to you, Genzai?"
As he thought about how every ordeal began and ended, the truth sank in. He could only move forward. No matter how much he wished, he could not rewind time. He could not bring his parents back.
Genzai broke down, sinking to the ground. His tears finally spilled, carrying years of longing and loneliness he had buried deep inside. The void in his chest ached in a way nothing could heal.
I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry, Dad. I can't do anything to bring you back. I can't bring back our family. I can't return to the good times we had. All I can do now is remember you, honor you, and carry you with me for the rest of my life.
Genzai wiped his face, not knowing how long he had been crying. But through the pain, his purpose became clear. It was no longer about clinging to the past or a grief he refused to let go of. It was about stopping Finn's growing madness. About preventing him from destroying more families the way he had destroyed Genzai's. He would be the one to bring Finn down. To make him face the weight of his actions. To stop him before more lives were stolen.
He rose from the ground, the ache in his muscles a small thing compared to the emptiness in his heart. As he stood, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, a soft, rhythmic pulse began against his skin. He looked down at his wrist. The watch was ticking. For a decade, Genzai's life had been a broken clock. Now, it had finally begun to move forward.