It was a noisy classroom.
At the front stood a short but robust teacher dressed in a gray suit. The students behind him paid him little mind, each busy with their own chatter, jokes, and discussions.
In a corner, a red-haired student leaned lazily against his desk, fast asleep.
The robust teacher didn't scold or demand silence. Instead, he calmly picked up a marker, wrote his name on the whiteboard, then turned to face the room with a confident smile.
"If you pay attention to my class, I can teach you how to become a master at satisfying women," he suddenly announced.
The effect was immediate.
The classroom, once bursting with noise, went dead silent.
Students who had been slouching straightened up. Those who had wandered out of their seats scrambled back.
Since this was an all-boys class, such a topic naturally grabbed everyone's interest.
The teacher's smile widened.
"I'm Mr. Maxwell, your new biology instructor," he introduced himself. "If you pay attention, you'll learn how biology actually helps in real life—like preventing erectile dysfunction and boosting stamina."
He tapped the marker against the board with a grin. "Yes, that means you'll finally run laps without gasping for air… or, you know, impress your girlfriend. Either way, science wins."
The students exchanged excited, eager looks.
"Is this guy serious? Can I finally break free from my twenty-second curse and last longer?" one whispered.
"That's what I like to hear, teach on!" another shouted.
"If you fulfill your promise, I'll buy you a Lamborghini when I'm older!" a third chimed in.
Mr. Maxwell's grin stretched even further as questions poured in. His trick had worked.
"Of course. Everything about the human body—even superhuman strength and stamina—can be unlocked through the right understanding of biology."
With that, he turned and wrote the day's topic across the whiteboard:
PLANT REPRODUCTION
The students frowned in confusion, trading looks with one another.
How could that possibly help?
Maxwell ignored their puzzled expressions and continued with his lecture. Even though the topic was different and unrelated to what they had hoped for, not one student dared disturb the flow of his teaching—afraid he would get annoyed and stop sharing the "knowledge" they desperately desired.
But in the corner of the room, the red-haired student remained asleep.
Then, all of a sudden, his body began to tremble. He shivered uncontrollably as cold sweat broke out across his face and body.
Abruptly, his head jerked up as though he had just woken from the most terrifying nightmare.
As the quiet classroom came into focus, his sharp blue eyes furrowed. Slowly, realization crept in. Then, shock struck him.
'What is happening? How am I alive?'
His hand rose shakily to his face. He touched his skin, his breath, his warmth. He was real.
'How is this possible? I should be dead. Are those heavenly bastards playing a trick on me?'
His fingers brushed against the desk, then his backpack. Every sensation was real. Tangible.
'No… it can't be.'
Memories of a blood-soaked battlefield flooded his mind—the place where he had taken his final breath.
Yet now he was here, back in his classroom. Back at the beginning.
"Desmond, you're acting like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong with you?"
The voice came from behind, along with a light tap on his back.
Desmond turned sharply. His eyes widened.
Rowan.
He recognized him instantly. Rowan—his friend, one of the crucial contributors to their survival during the brutal fifth chapter of the apocalypse. Alive and well.
Desmond's lips parted. He wanted to call his name, but the words caught in his throat. He could still remember the way Rowan had died… and the long, agonizing grief that had followed.
Rowan frowned at his silence.
"What's the date today?" Desmond suddenly asked.
Rowan blinked. "September 6th. Why the hell are you asking that?"
"What year?"
"2030. Is there a reason for all these questions?"
Desmond didn't answer. He turned back toward the front of the class, where Mr. Maxwell was still lecturing with enthusiasm about plant reproduction.
His mind was in turmoil. He was back—three years before the Great Fall. Back in the very moment where everything began.
His dying wish to get a second chance had been mysteriously fulfilled.
But should he feel joy or despair?
The world was about to descend into hell. A second chance only meant he would be forced to live through that nightmare again.
The horror. The nightmarish creatures. The desperate battles for survival. Watching comrades and loved ones die.
It would all repeat.
Desmond's chest tightened as he recalled the memories that still haunted him.
Finally, he exhaled deeply, forcing the thoughts aside. For now, he needed to focus.
The apocalypse would begin exactly at noon.
He glanced at his smartwatch. 11:46. More than ten minutes left—just enough to do the one thing he had always regretted not doing in his previous life.
He rose from his seat and excused himself from the classroom.
After reaching a secluded spot, he quickly dialed a number—the only family member he still had in this life. His twin: Rex Blackridge.
In his last life, Rex had perished alongside billions of others who failed to choose their first awakening path.
Desmond couldn't let that happen again.
"Desmond, you finally decided to call today. What's poppin'!"
From the smartwatch speaker, the familiar voice he hadn't heard in over three years echoed into his ears.
"Rex…" Desmond's voice was low, almost trembling.
"What? You said something? Speak louder, man."
A wave of nostalgia surged through him. His twin's voice. Something he had missed so dearly.
But there was no time for sentiment.
"Rex, listen carefully. In a few minutes, the world will change." His tone was grave, urgent.
He explained everything starting from the events of the first two minutes of the apocalypse, the decisive moments that would determine who survived and who perished instantly.
When he finished, silence lingered.
Then Rex chuckled nervously. "What's this about? You've been drinking, huh? Calling me with some movie script?"
Desmond didn't reply to the mockery. He only repeated his warning more firmly, his voice sharper than before, then ended the call.
He stared at the smartwatch screen for a moment.
'I hope you survive this time.'
Switching it back to the time display, he exhaled slowly and made his way back to class.
He walked through the halls, passing other classrooms, spotting familiar faces—people whose fates he already knew.
Finally, he returned.
The room was in uproar. Students were loudly complaining to Mr. Maxwell, frustrated that he hadn't revealed a single piece of the "secret knowledge" he had promised.
A pitiful smile tugged at Desmond's lips.
This was exactly the state of the class before the apocalypse had begun in his previous life.
He sat down at his desk and fixed his eyes on his watch.
The final minutes of peace slipped away.
One minute passed.
Two.
Five.
And then—
It happened.