I followed the trail of distorted space Dean left behind and stepped through the final ripple.
The council district disappeared.
For a brief moment, all I saw was shifting silver light before the world settled around me once more.
The first thing I noticed was noise.
Not the noise of battle, training grounds or military activity.
The noise of people living. Conversations drifted through the air from every direction. The second thing I noticed was size. I had expected a family compound.
Perhaps a large estate.
Maybe several connected residences belonging to different generations.
What spread before me was something else entirely.
The district occupied several hills connected by stone roads, elevated walkways and narrow pathways that twisted between homes of every imaginable style. Ancient wooden residences stood beside elegant stone villas. Some structures resembled traditional manors while others looked almost modern, built from polished metal and translucent materials infused with soul energy.
The architecture shouldn’t have worked. Some buildings looked thousands of years old. Others couldn’t have existed for more than a few decades.
Yet together they formed something strangely cohesive.
The entire district felt less like a planned settlement and more like generations of people stubbornly building wherever they wanted until eventually a city happened.
I spent several seconds simply looking around. Then I looked at Dean.
"This is one family?"
Dean followed my gaze.
"One branch."
I blinked.
"One branch?"
"Of one branch."
The old Saint scratched his chin.
"Your generation really struggles with scale."
"My generation doesn’t usually discover several hundred relatives in the same afternoon."
"Fair."
We continued walking.
Unlike the council district, nobody paid much attention to us. At least initially.
People were busy.
Two elderly humans sat outside a stone residence playing some kind of board game while arguing about rules neither seemed interested in following.
An enormous man carrying enough metal to build a small fortress emerged from a workshop and immediately disappeared back inside after apparently forgetting something.
Life continued normally.
Nobody seemed particularly impressed by the presence of an ancient Saint. Which honestly told me more about Dean than anything else.
A woman watering flowers outside her residence spotted him and narrowed her eyes.
"You never returned my gardening tools."
Dean didn’t even slow down.
"They were clearly gifts."
"They were not."
"They became gifts when you stopped asking for them back."
"I asked for them back yesterday."
Dean considered this.
"Then perhaps they’re future gifts."
The woman looked moments away from throwing something at him. I quietly increased the distance between us.
"You seem popular."
Dean snorted.
"Popularity is simply another word for being appreciated."
"I’m pretty sure that’s not true."
"It is if you refuse to listen to criticism."
Before I could respond, Dean stopped walking.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
Immediately, I became suspicious.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The grin widened.
"What are you planning?"
"An efficient solution."
I had known him for less than a day. That was not enough experience to understand that those words rarely led anywhere good.
Soul force surged around the old man.
The surrounding air trembled. Several people throughout the district immediately looked up. A collective groan spread through nearby streets.
Apparently everyone recognized the signs.
Then Dean placed both hands around his mouth.
I stared.
A gigantic projection instantly formed above the district.
It was Dean.
More specifically, it was an enormous version of Dean making the exact same hand-speaker gesture.
Several nearby residents visibly suffered. One old man sitting on a rooftop actually stood up and began walking away before Dean said anything.
The giant projection inhaled.
"ATTENTION."
The voice rolled across the district like thunder. Windows rattled and roads cracked. A dog several streets away began barking furiously.
"THIS IS DEAN."
"We know!"
The reply came from somewhere in the distance.
"GOOD."
The projection nodded.
"THEN THIS ANNOUNCEMENT WILL BE EASIER."
I buried my face in one hand.
Dean ignored me.
"I HAVE DISCOVERED SOMETHING INTERESTING."
A man standing on a balcony crossed his arms.
"The last time you said that, it was a disaster."
"It was not. Your perspective needs therapy."
"You need therapy."
The argument apparently wasn’t new. Dean pointed accusingly toward the balcony.
"THAT IS NOT RELEVANT."
"It feels relevant."
Several people agreed.
Dean chose to ignore them.
"AFTER CAREFUL RESEARCH, EXTENSIVE INVESTIGATION AND A REMARKABLE AMOUNT OF EFFORT, I HAVE DISCOVERED A LIVING DESCENDANT OF OUR LINEAGE."
My perception was already all over the place and I saw everyone freeze.
Actual silence followed. Conversations died. Even the people arguing over the board game looked up.
Dean looked extremely pleased with himself.
"HE IS CURRENTLY STANDING NEXT TO ME."
Several seconds passed.
Then somebody shouted.
"YOU’RE LYING."
"AM I?"
"YES."
Dean nodded thoughtfully.
"Reasonable concern."
Then he pointed directly at me.
"THAT IS WHY YOU SHOULD COME SEE FOR YOURSELVES."
The place erupted.
Doors opened and windows were slammed. Soul force flared from every direction. People began appearing almost immediately.
Some ran. Some flew. Some simply stepped through space. The nearest streets filled within moments.
Then more people arrived.
And more.
And more.
I watched the growing crowd and slowly turned toward Dean.
"Do you ever solve problems without creating larger ones?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly I wasn’t sure he even thought about it.
"At least you’re honest."
"One of my better qualities."
I doubted that.
Within minutes, we reached an enormous meeting hall positioned near the center of the district.
The structure looked ancient.
Massive wooden pillars supported a sprawling roof while countless expansions over the centuries had transformed what was probably once a modest gathering place into something capable of accommodating hundreds of people.
Which was fortunate.
Because hundreds of people were already arriving.
The hall filled rapidly. Then the surrounding courtyards filled. Then the rooftops. Everywhere I looked, people were staring at me. Like someone had suddenly walked into reality carrying an answer to a question nobody expected to revisit.
Questions started arriving almost immediately.
How old was I?
How had I entered the Null Realm alive?
Was the condition of the Prime universe really as terrible as the resistance reports claimed?
How many Eternals had I met?
What did living food taste like?
That last question somehow led to an argument involving six different people. I never learned why.
The atmosphere quickly became chaotic. Yet there was something strangely comfortable about it.
For them, I wasn’t some chosen figure sent by Amun. I was a relative.
A very unusual relative. But still family.
The realization felt surprisingly strange. I was still processing that thought when the crowd gradually parted.
The shift happened naturally.
People moved aside and the conversations softened. A pathway opened through the center of the hall.
An elderly man slowly approached. Unlike Dean, there was nothing chaotic about him.
His movements were calm. The kind of confidence that came from acceptance of your journey. Silver hair hung behind his back while sharp eyes studied me with quiet interest.
For several moments he simply observed.
As though trying to fit a new piece into a puzzle he had spent centuries assembling.
Dean’s grin widened.
"Perfect."
The old man ignored him. His attention remained fixed on me.
Then he finally nodded.
"Interesting."
I glanced toward Dean.
The ancient Saint immediately threw an arm around my shoulder.
"Allow me to introduce your great-grandfather."
For the first time since arriving in the district, genuine surprise managed to break through everything else.
The old man sighed.
Dean looked delighted.
Apparently that reaction was exactly what he had been hoping for.
"Arlen Ironhart," Dean announced proudly. "Father of your grandfather. One of the few people in this district capable of enduring my company for more than an hour."
"That is not a compliment."
"It absolutely is."
Arlen ignored him and looked at me again. "I’ve spent the last five minutes listening to half the district speculate about you."
His gaze shifted briefly toward the crowd before returning to me.
"I think it would be best if I rescued you before they decide to continue for another five hours."
Looking around at the growing number of curious relatives, I couldn’t help agreeing.
Unfortunately, judging by the expressions surrounding us, I had a feeling escape was no longer an option.