The morning of my death was supposed to be like every other.
I was late for work, clutching a half-empty cup of coffee that had already gone cold, and jogging across the crosswalk near 5th and Madison. My manager's voice still rang in my skull: "Don't be late again, Jake. Boss is watching hours."
Twenty-four years old and already worn down to nothing. Rent due. Bills piled. No dreams, no future. Just another cog in the machine, moving toward a job I didn't care about.
The light turned green. I stepped into the street.
A horn blared. Tires shrieked.
I turned my head just in time to see a white delivery van fishtail across the lane. The driver's face was pale, eyes wide, helpless.
Impact.
No pain. No blood. Just the world shattering into static.
White noise ripped through me, shredding body, thought, everything into pixels. I wasn't flesh anymore—I was code, lines of text scrolling across an invisible screen.
[System Regression in Progress.]
[Allocating souls…]
[Warning: Unauthorized soul detected.]
[Adaptive Correction Applied.]
"What the hell—" My voice broke into distortion.
Then black.
I woke gasping, heart hammering.
Ceiling fan. Rattling in that same offbeat pattern I remembered. A cracked clock on the wall: 6:03 a.m.
My old apartment.
But my body… wasn't mine.
I staggered to the bathroom, legs trembling. My reflection froze me.
Wide brown eyes. Narrow jawline. Softer cheeks. Shoulder-length hair brushing against my neck.
A girl's face. Not mine.
I gripped the sink until my knuckles ached. "No. No, no, no—"
The System cut me off, its voice cold as steel.
[Global Regression Complete.]
[User: Jake T.]
[Status: UNREGISTERED.]
[Class: N/A]
[Designation: ERROR CLASS.]
[Trait Unlocked: Adaptive Exploit.]
[Warning: Stability compromised.]
I laughed, sharp and bitter. "Figures. Even when I get a second chance, the system screws me over."
My new voice came out lighter. Wrong in my own ears.
The apartment door shook under a heavy knock.
"Maintenance!" a man shouted. Mr. Ruiz—the building super. "You hear that siren? City alert says stay inside!"
Siren?
I stumbled into the living room. Pulled back the curtain.
The bodega across the street was still there. So was the pawn shop. But the sky—
A shimmer cracked across it like broken glass. Red veins pulsed outward in jagged webs, spreading through the clouds.
Then came the horn. Not police. Not fire. Something deeper. A foghorn dragged across steel, loud enough to make my teeth ache.
My phone buzzed on the counter. Screen black except for stark white text.
[WELCOME, CITIZEN.]
[Your world has been optimized.]
Optimized. Right.
The building rattled. Ceiling light flickered. Ruiz's pounding grew frantic.
"Jake! Open the door!"
I did. Ruiz stood there, gray hair sticking to his forehead, sweat streaking his cheeks. "Something's happening," he panted. "They say—"
The hallway shook. Dust rained from the ceiling.
My vision split with another message.
[Neighborhood Tutorial Instance: Pending.]
[Location: South Stairwell.]
[Objective: Reach the lobby alive.]
[Time Limit: 15:00]
[Failure: Processing.]
Processing. I remembered what that meant—screams cut short, blood pooling on tile.
The clock read 6:03 a.m. again. Time looped. This was the regression. The day Earth reset.
"Jake?" Ruiz's voice cracked. "What does that mean? Tutorial?"
"It means don't go alone," I muttered.
He blinked. "What?"
"Groups of four minimum. Hug the inner rail. Don't run."
Ruiz stared like I'd lost it. Maybe I had. But I knew how this played out. I'd died two days after the regression last time, ripped apart by a chitin hound because I thought a fire extinguisher would work.
Not this time.
I yanked open the kitchen drawer. Grabbed duct tape, a screwdriver, two lighters, aluminum foil. Not much, but better than nothing. Wrapped foil around my phone, leaving the flashlight exposed. Duct-taped the screwdriver to my forearm for quick draw.
"Jake?" Ruiz asked again, eyes darting.
I forced a grin. "First aid for stairs."
The stairwell door hummed under my hand. The System flared text across my sight.
[Tutorial Instance Generated: THE DESCENT.]
[Objective: Reach the lobby alive.]
[Time Limit: 15:00]
[Modifier: Half-Light.]
[Visibility reduced. Sound enhanced.]
[Tip: Monsters track breath.]
Perfect.
I pressed the bar.
Concrete walls. Rusted rails. Dim emergency strips glowing faint blue.
And something moving below.
It crawled on elbows, bent backward, ribs fluttering like gills. Skin gray, teeth grinding.
[Stair Wretch (Lv. 1).]
In my last life, I panicked. Swung wildly. It screamed. Screams called more.
Not today.
[Skill Available: Improvised Assessment.]
[ERROR CLASS Note: Expect partial data.]
Text scattered across my vision.
[Weakness: Joints. Throat slit.]
[Trigger: Loud impact → Rush.]
[Blind. Tracks breath and residual heat.]
I knelt. Set my phone on the landing, flashlight angled at the wall. Hit strobe. The foil kept it warm. A fake sun.
The Wretch twitched toward the glow.
I exhaled, silent. Slid down two steps, weight on the balls of my feet. Rails drink sound, walls echo.
When it lunged at the false light, I drew the screwdriver. Rammed it up through the rib gap. Hot resistance gave.
It screamed.
[EXP +10.]
[Beginner Path Allocation Failed.]
[Compensation Granted: Skill Shard — "Exploit Opening (Lv. 0)."]
Compensation. The System hated blanks. Errors got junk. Junk stacked.
Ruiz gagged behind me. "What is that—"
"Not the last," I muttered.
Screams echoed below. A woman's voice cut sharp, then silence. Processing.
The timer ticked in red: 13:47. 13:46.
We weren't alone. Survivors from other floors were spilling into the stairwell. Faces I half-remembered from the last timeline. People who wouldn't all make it out this time.
One, a grad student named Lila, clutched the rail like it was her lifeline. Her eyes widened when she saw me—wrong body, wrong face.
"You… who are you?" she whispered.
"Jake," I said flatly. "And if you want to live, breathe on a 3–2–3 rhythm. Anything else, they'll hear."
She blinked. "How do you—"
"Because I've died here before."
The stairwell groaned. The lobby door below burst open.
A hound padded in, claws clicking, body armored in black chitin.
[Lobby Hound (Lv. 3).]
[Trait: Pack Caller.]
My grip tightened on the rail.