I opened my eyes to searing pain. I sat up, but it only got worse. My voice cried out for help as I pitched forward into darkness.

  I woke to a rhythmic beeping sound. I opened my eyes and looked around. There were medical machines all around, wires connecting them with my body. I was uncomfortably resting on a bed. Other than me, there was no one else in the room.

  My mind was sluggish. The pain of all the lives I’d lived were still painfully crammed inside. What I needed to do came to me slowly.

  I Healed myself until my mana ran dry. As I did, the fog on my mind lessened. When it was gone, the truth of what I had done only a few days ago—by my perspective, at least—caught up with me. Tears streamed down my face. Everyone was gone by my hand. Now, they were back. Their deaths had been enough to give me the experience I needed to make sure they had a chance to live this time around. This was it.

  I sighed and wiped my tears. Frankly, I was tired and worn out emotionally. My body was fine—now it was, after I Healed it—but my soul was in need of a break. This was the final sprint after a marathon—and then some. I needed to finish the system. The goal was so close. But first, I decided to open the message awaiting me at the start of this life.

  The creepy voyeur was back again. Not that he’d ever left. I decided that he was a he because of those voyeuristic tendencies. Not that a woman couldn’t be, but it felt right given everything I’d felt and seen.

  The note brought up a good point. The aliens. Whatever I did with my system, I would need to exclude them. This would be humanity’s secret weapon and not something to share with those invaders. I didn’t look right away, but I assumed there would be some kind of feature that would let me limit the people who had access to the system.

  I would want to do the same for people who were too young to be responsible—exempting myself, of course. Babies—and children in general—would need protection of some sort, but it couldn’t come from the system. That was if I didn’t also lock the system down more.

  As an alternative option, I could have the experience automatically spent rather than accumulate. That way—when someone earned experience doing something, like killing a monster—experience would go towards leveling and any skills they had or could unlock that had been used to gain that experience. I’d obviously need to set how the experience was divided, but that was something I would think more about before making any decisions—especially because I didn’t want my trillions of experience to be spent on me automatically. That alone would make the monsters far too powerful to be handled!

  If I went with the locked down system, I would be in a much better position to allow children—and even babies—access to the system. I would need to make sure they were protected during whatever tutorial I opted to go with. All of that was for future me to figure out. For now, I was stuck in a hospital bed.

  The beeps of the machines were my companion until a nurse came to check on me an hour later. He noticed that I was awake when I turned towards him.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Let me check your file.”

  The nurse flipped through the chart at the foot of my bed before putting it back into its holder.

  “Two weeks.”

  “That’s a while,” I mused.

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  “Mhm. It’s good for you to be back. I’ll let the head nurse know so your parents can be contacted. It’s currently in the middle of the night, so I imagine they’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Will I be able to go home?”

  “That’s up to the doctor. She’ll come to check you in the morning, so you can ask her then.”

  “Thanks.”

  I wasn’t feeling particularly tired, so I lay in the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. One nurse or another came to check on me every couple of hours. Finally—when the sun’s light was beginning to kiss the horizon—I was tired enough to fall asleep. That sleep was short lived, though. Shortly after dawn, I was awoken by one of the nurses and the doctor.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

  “Fine,” I answered. “Will I be able to go home?”

  “That depends on how the tests go this morning. If all is well, you may be able to go home later today or tomorrow. The most important thing is to make sure you’re healthy before you leave.”

  “And Mom and Dad?”

  “They’ve been notified. One or both of them will be here later to see you.”

  She then began to do her tests. They were simple things ranging from checking my vitals to testing how my body responded to stimuli. Then there were the dreaded blood tests. For as much as I hated needles—and I hated needles—much of my fear of pain and death had been cured by effectively starving to the point that the only thing keeping me alive was magic.

  When she was done with her routine, she left me to rest and to eat. A nurse brought me the blandest food I’d ever seen and claimed it was breakfast. Given how hungry I was, I dug into it. I was not happy about the distinct cardboard taste of it, but food was food.

  Dad was my first visitor of the day. He arrived just after I had finished eating. He cracked a smile when I turned my head towards him.

  “Hey kiddo,” he said. “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah. Can’t wait to go home.”

  “Mhm,” he nodded. “When the doctor says it’s ok, then we’ll go home.”

  “I’ve got a lot to tell you and Mom, but I can’t say it here.”

  “Oh, why not?”

  “The walls have ears, so they say.”

  Dad looked at me quizzically.

  “That’s not something you should know how to say,” he said.

  “Exactly. I’ll explain later when it’s safe to. It’s nothing bad.”

  A lie, but a white one. Yes, the monsters coming was bad, but my time travel was not. As much as I wanted to convince him right away, there was a time and a place for it—home, not the hospital.

  Dad sat with me and chatted while the nurses and doctor went in and out to do their duties. Mom arrived mid-afternoon. There was a tension in the air between the two of them—a sad state of affairs, really. Seeing the end of the world put in perspective just how little these squabbles mattered. But—because it was awkward—Dad left the room so Mom could spend her time with me.

  “Mom,” I said. “I know you and Dad aren’t getting along—”

  “But, Sweetie, that’s adult business—”

  “—I’m serious. I know you aren’t getting along. But don’t blame Dad for what happened. It’s not his fault. If anything, it’s mine. And before you try to deny it, I can give you proof. But later and not here. I told Dad the same.”

  “Ok,” she said.

  My serious tone had conveyed the importance of what I was saying—or so I hoped. That she didn’t say more about it made me think it had worked. We chatted about other things for a few hours before the doctor came in to make her determination.

  “Everything looks good,” she said. “As you’ve been asleep for so long, you may feel some discomfort when moving around—and you might experience difficulties doing so. I recommend physical therapy for the next six months to catch you back up to where you should be. We’ll be keeping you over night for observation, but you can go home tomorrow morning.”

  “Wish I could go home now.”

  “I understand that. But out of an abundance of caution, one more night shouldn’t hurt.”

  I gave up fighting because it wasn’t going to work. No one would listen to a child advocate for themselves—at least not at my apparent age. So I was stuck for another night in the hospital, being poked and prodded by the nurses every hour or two—the best sleep a child could get! And the food for dinner was no better… it was bland with a side of slightly blander. The good news was that the IVs were removed as they were no longer needed—but that didn’t mean the machine’s leads were gone. Those uncomfortable bastards stuck around like yesterday’s farts.

  When the next day dawned, Dad was there to check me out of the hospital and bring me home. For as much as I’d been asleep for weeks, I was still tired. Healing myself had brought my muscles back to normal, so I was able to walk—not that the hospital would let me. I was brought to Dad’s truck in a wheelchair by one of the nurses. Dad helped me into the car—help I didn’t need.

  Once I was in the car—and buckled—we drove away. The start of the trip was in silence, but as the truck got on the highway, I figured it was time to talk about the elephant in the room. Now that it was time to face the monsters, I would need my parents on my side. On some level, that was comforting. Mostly, it was just what I had to do. I would play the game so I could focus on finishing up the system and getting the word out.

  “Dad,” I began, “it’s time for me to say what I couldn’t earlier.”

  “Hm?”

  “I’m a time traveler. The sheer amount of memories in my skull… that’s why I was in a coma for so long. Last time, it was just a bunch of pain… and I think this will be the last time. My body won’t be able to handle another return to now.”

  “That’s certainly something,” Dad said.

  “And I’m sure you want proof, right?”

  Dad nodded.

  “And I’ll also help you out with some money later—after I talk to Grandpa Joe. But for proof, it’ll be better to do it when we get home. It’s not really safe to do in the car.”

  “Ok,” he smiled. “I look forward to seeing what you have in mind.”

  We chatted more, but in my mind I ran through the options. Heal was always good, but that necessitated an injury to show off. Something Dad would be against, I imagined. So I wanted something showy that wasn’t super dangerous. At the same time, I wanted to pick something useful on the off chance I was able to keep the skills I picked up for myself along the way. It was untested waters for me, but I was happy with my choice.

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