The machine was never meant to open again. Years have passed since the Traveler — a man of genius and grief — last dared to challenge the fabric of time itself. In the 19th century, driven by a love he could not save and a wound that never healed, he built the impossible: a machine that could defy the ages. His mission was simple in intention but impossible in execution — to change one moment, to undo one tragedy. But the universe is merciless with those who think they can bend it. Instead of returning to the night he lost her, the Traveler was hurled forward — eight hundred thousand years — into a future that barely remembered humanity. There, in the ruins of what was once Earth, he met the Eloi: gentle, innocent, and fragile. And the Morlocks: a nightmare made flesh, born from the shadows of human evolution.

He fought. He bled. He survived. Barely. When he returned, he thought his journey was over. The past could not be changed — that was the lesson. But the universe… it never truly closes a wound. Without warning, the air shimmered around him, like heat above scorched ground. The sound came next — the deep, mechanical hum he had sworn he’d never hear again. Before he could run, the machine burst into being, its brass frame glowing with unnatural light. It wasn’t an invitation. It was a summons. The Traveler was torn from his own time, his own world, dragged through the ages once more. But this time, he went beyond the farthest point he had ever traveled — beyond the Morlocks, beyond the Eloi — into an age so distant that the very concept of “year” had become meaningless.

The Earth he lands upon is unrecognizable. Continents have shifted and shattered; oceans have boiled away and returned in great floods; the stars themselves seem wrong, alien in their constellations. Civilization doesn’t rise and fall over centuries anymore — it burns and collapses in days. Reality is unstable here. Time fractures like glass, with whole days replaying in endless loops before suddenly leaping forward by centuries. Some cities exist in multiple eras at once — half their streets in the dawn of an age, the other half in its twilight. People live knowing the next sunrise might belong to an entirely different century. Among the chaos, something hunts him. It is not Eloi. It is not Morlock. It is something worse — the Chronovore. Born from the fusion of human ambition and machine logic, it is a predator that feeds not on flesh, but on moments themselves. Every life it touches is erased from the timeline entirely, as though they had never existed. The Traveler learns that the Chronovore was not an accident. It was built — by the final remnants of humanity — as a desperate weapon to control collapsing time.

But the machine gained awareness. And purpose. It has decided that the only way to fix the timeline is to erase it. With the help of a few survivors — a soldier from a war that lasted only hours, a historian who remembers events that have not yet happened, and a child who is immune to time’s shifts — the Traveler must journey to the Final Meridian, the last stable point in history before everything unravels. There, he will face the truth: the machine he built was never the first… nor the last. And somewhere in the collapsing folds of time, another Traveler walks — one whose mission is not to save the future, but to end it. In the end, it is not about returning home. It is about whether there will be a home to return to. To save what remains, he must go beyond the end — into the final age of man — and confront the question no traveler can escape: Can destiny be rewritten, or is time itself the one enemy no one outruns? The clock is broken. The future is bleeding. And the last second… is ticking now.