Chapter 1 — Five Months Before the End
The clock read 8:47 a.m.
For a long time, Ashton just stared at it.
The numbers burned into his mind like a countdown, each second ticking toward something he had already lived through once.
The hum of the air conditioner, the quiet chatter of coworkers, the soft clack of keyboards — all of it felt wrong. Too clean. Too safe. Too alive.
He pressed his palms against the cold surface of his desk, trying to convince himself it was real. The scars that used to map his skin were gone. His fingers — once calloused from years of holding blades and guns — were smooth again.
This isn't possible.
The thought repeated over and over, until it started to lose meaning.
Then the flicker returned.
A faint, translucent blue overlay blinked to life in the corner of his vision.
[ SYSTEM ONLINE ]
[ USER: ASHTON CLARK ]
[ STATUS: NORMAL ]
[ LOCATION: VAARHON DISTRICT — HORIZON FINANCIAL COMPLEX, 23RD FLOOR ]
He exhaled shakily, heart pounding in his throat. It was still here.
The same System that had carried him through the apocalypse.
His coworkers moved around him, oblivious. No one reacted to the glowing interface floating in the air. To them, Ashton was just another face behind a desk — a quiet, overworked analyst buried in data.
He minimized the projection instinctively, as if afraid someone might see. The blue text faded from sight but didn't disappear completely — hovering faintly, just at the edge of perception.
It was real.
He was back.
And he had five months.
The workday dragged on, but Ashton barely noticed. Every sound, every person, every building outside the window felt temporary — fragile.
By lunch, he found himself standing in front of the window wall overlooking Vaarhon — the city of commerce, a skyline made of glass and ambition.
Below, thousands of people moved through the streets, alive and ignorant of what was coming.
Five months from now, those same streets would be painted red.
He could almost hear it — the chaos, the sirens, the screams.
"Clark!"
A voice snapped him out of it.
Midas Anders, his friend, was grinning from across the cubicle wall. Broad shoulders, sharp smile — the same Midas who'd die trying to protect Vanessa in another timeline.
"Man, you look like you saw a ghost," Midas said, tossing a coffee cup onto his desk. "Did the quarterly report traumatize you again?"
Ashton forced a weak laugh. "Something like that."
"Come on. Vanessa's already at the café. Let's not make her wait. You know she'll lecture you again about 'work-life balance.'"
That voice — so casual, so alive — twisted something deep in Ashton's chest. He'd watched Midas die. He'd buried him himself.
And now he was standing here, smiling like the world wasn't five months from collapsing.
Ashton nodded. "Yeah… let's go."
The café was quiet, a small place tucked between high-end offices and neon advertisements. Vanessa Williams was already there, dark hair tied back, eyes sharp even when she smiled.
"Ashton," she said as they sat down. "You're pale. You sleeping at all?"
He hesitated. "Not really."
"Figures." She stirred her coffee. "You always take the world's problems on yourself. I keep telling you, one day it's going to eat you alive."
It already did, he wanted to say.
But instead, he just nodded. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
That night, Ashton lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his apartment in Arvestias. His hands were steady now. His mind wasn't.
He opened the interface again.
[ SYSTEM MENU OPENED ]
||Attributes||Provisions Shop||Trade Market||Fortress Creator||Rewards||Chat Window||
||All-Time Statistics||System Resource Shop||
It was all there — every tab, every option, exactly as he remembered. But something was different this time.
The Apocalypse Credits, Infected Kill Count, and Experience Points were all blank.
It was like starting over — except he knew what was coming.
He had five months to prepare.
Ashton's eyes settled on the first tab:
[ Attributes ]
He tapped it.
[ Name: Ashton Clark ]
[ Sex: Male ]
[ Age: 27 ]
[ Apocalypse Credits: 0 ]
[ Infected Killed: 0 ]
[ Mastered Skills: 0 ]
{ Attribute Points: 0 }
[ Level: 1 ]
{ Experience: 0 / 100 }
[ Health: Perfect ]
[ Strength: Average ]
[ Vitality: Above Average ]
[ Agility: Average ]
[ Constitution: Average ]
[ Strategic/Tactical Intelligence: Subpar ]
[ Intuition: Non-Existent ]
Ashton let out a quiet, humorless laugh. It was the same pathetic stat sheet he'd started with four years ago.
Back when he thought the world could be saved.
He stared at the glowing window until it blurred.
"Five months…" he murmured. "This time… I'll be ready."
Outside, the city lights of New Haverkusen pulsed against the horizon — bright, vibrant, alive.
But to Ashton Clark, they already looked like embers.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
Every time Ashton closed his eyes, he saw flashes of his last moments — the floodlights, Carlton's calm voice, the endless swarm tearing at his flesh.
He sat up, heart pounding. His apartment in Arvestias was quiet, too quiet. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. The silence pressed down on him like a weight.
The System flickered again, sensing his unease.
[ System Alert: Neural activity elevated. User stress levels exceeding baseline. ]
[ Recommendation: Engage "Routine Simulation" to maintain mental stability. ]
Ashton frowned. "Routine simulation?"
The text shifted.
[ A simulation of daily activity for psychological regulation. Optional physical enhancement may occur. Activate? Y/N ]
He hesitated. It wasn't a function he remembered.
But then again… maybe the System hadn't revealed everything the first time.
He selected "Yes."
Instantly, a cold rush went through him. His body reacted on instinct — muscles tightening, heartbeat syncing with something unseen. He felt lighter, sharper, awake.
A timer appeared in his vision.
[ Simulation Active: Physical Reinforcement Mode — 30 Minutes Remaining ]
He stood, testing the feeling. It wasn't pain or adrenaline — it was control. Every movement felt deliberate, precise. He clenched his fist and could feel the air shifting around his knuckles.
He dropped into a push-up position out of habit. One push-up became ten. Ten became fifty. By the time he stopped, he wasn't gasping — his breathing was steady, mechanical.
[ Endurance Increased Slightly. ]
[ Strength Increased Slightly. ]
[ +0.3 Attribute Points Earned. ]
It wasn't much. But it was something.
For the first time since he'd opened his eyes in this world, Ashton smiled — not out of joy, but out of understanding.
The System was still limitless.
And this time, he wouldn't waste it.
He showered, dressed, and stared out the window at the distant skyline of Havenshire — the fortified district where Genesis Labs gleamed like a beacon of progress.
He remembered how it would all go wrong. The explosion. The broadcasts. The panic that followed.
He had five months to stop it. Or to use it.
He wasn't sure which he wanted more.
The next morning, his reflection in the mirror caught his attention. His eyes looked sharper, clearer. His face — the same, but somehow different. Focused.
At work, he moved with quiet precision. Midas cracked jokes, Vanessa complained about deadlines, and Ashton answered automatically, all while running silent System diagnostics behind his eyes.
[ Internal Status Scan Complete. ]
[ System fully synchronized with User neural and muscular framework. ]
[ Adaptation Efficiency: 98.7%. ]
He barely reacted when his monitor flashed — a new message from corporate.
Subject: "Genesis Industries: Press Conference at St. Jürrest."
The email included a date: April 4th, 2074.
That was the day Genesis Labs would announce their "human optimization initiative."
The same project that would lead to the Genesis Virus.
His stomach turned. The future was unfolding exactly as before — every moment, every choice.
He leaned back, eyes unfocused. The temptation to intervene — to storm Genesis Labs right now, to scream at someone to stop — burned through him. But he couldn't. Not yet. No one would believe him.
He needed leverage. Power. Time.
[ Objective Created: Prepare for Genesis Event. ]
[ Time Remaining: 151 Days. ]
[ Survival Probability: 0.03% ]
Ashton stared at the text.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt clarity.
He had beaten the apocalypse once.
Now, he was going to rewrite it.