We prepared for the chaos, much like every other household in the city. The local shelters used for storms and floods were already crowded beyond capacity, packed with people shouting and crying long before the monsters even reached them. There were almost no real bunkers for people with medium to low income families like our own. Safety was something you either bought in advance or built yourself.
What we did have was preparation of a different kind.
Our apartment was stacked with disaster proof supplies. Canned food lined the cupboards. Instant ramen packs were stuffed into boxes beneath the table. Bottled water was piled near the door, and on the small balcony sat a few potted calamansi plants that my sister insisted on keeping alive no matter how busy life got. It was not luxury, but it was survival.
My younger brother Alfred, only a year younger than me, worked at a local grocery. He had easy access to supplies and started stockpiling them the moment he began having dreams of parallel lives. Just like me, he saw fragments of other worlds where hesitation meant death. He never said much about those dreams, but his actions spoke clearly enough.
According to the system, roughly sixty percent of the locals in our reality experienced those dreams. Not enough to save everyone, but enough to seed awareness. Enough to give humanity a fighting chance.
When the system opened, my siblings and I adapted quickly.
"Big Bro, I think I can clear the monsters on our floor."
Alfred stood near the apartment door, his fists clenched. A faint but visible layer of energy wrapped around his knuckles and forearms. Ki. Dense and violent, yet controlled.
"Yeah, this sensation," he continued, rolling his shoulders. "Even without a class, it feels natural. Like my body knows what to do."
I nodded, watching the way his stance shifted. His balance was perfect, feet planted instinctively. He was already fighting like someone who had done this before.
"Yes, I think we can all adjust fairly easily," my younger sister said. Ara stood a few steps behind him, her hands glowing faintly with structured mana. "I remember this too. In other lives, you were always a Ki based martial artist. Big Brother Arnold and I were spellcasters."
As she spoke, small constructs formed around her palms. Hard mana shaped into simple projectiles. Mana arrows, thin and sharp, hovering in the air as if waiting for her command.
Just like that, memories aligned.
In other realities, the system sometimes arrived weeks or even months after the world began to fall apart. When it finally descended, my S-Class gift always carried me forward. Every memory confirmed it. Ocean King's Successor was not subtle, but it was absolute.
"I'll join you, Alfred," I said. "Ara, stay in the apartment. Snipe from the windows or support us from the back."
I extended my hand and felt mana respond immediately. It flowed like liquid thought, condensing into water that spilled into the air without falling. I shaped it into serpentine forms, translucent water snakes coiling and writhing around my arm.
"Yeah," I muttered. "This will do. Let's gather some points."
We opened the door.
The hallway was already stained with blood. Cracked tiles littered the floor, and the air smelled of iron and smoke. A low growl echoed from the stairwell as a pair of twisted creatures dragged themselves toward us. Their bodies were hunched and uneven, skin stretched tight over warped muscle.
Alfred moved first.
His foot slammed into the ground, and he crossed the distance in a blur. Ki surged through his body, reinforcing muscle and bone. His punch caved in the skull of the first monster with a dull, wet sound. He pivoted smoothly, driving an elbow into the second creature's neck. The impact snapped it sideways, and Alfred finished it with a downward strike that crushed its spine.
The monsters collapsed without another sound.
The average Ki pool for most people at the start hovered between 900 and 1,500. Mine sat at 1,300, respectable but nothing special. Alfred's, however, was abnormal.
7,000.
From the very beginning, he was already a physical monster.
He stood at six foot one, tall for our people, broad shouldered and solid. Each movement carried power that felt earned rather than borrowed. He moved like he already knew how to fight. He was reliable and with his gift, hard to take down which is exactly what we needed on the front line.
"We'll secure the floor," I said. "Fall back to the apartment if you need to recover."
More monsters poured out from the stairwell. Goat headed demons with jagged horns and burning eyes clawed their way upward. I raised my hand, and the water snakes shot forward. They wrapped around limbs and torsos, expanding violently.
Water surged.
The pressure alone flung monsters backward, smashing them against walls and railings. Some were forced over the edge of the stairwell, their screams cutting off abruptly as they fell.
Ara supported us from the window. Mana arrows streaked through the air, piercing eyes and throats with precise efficiency. She conserved her mana carefully, breathing steadily between each shot.
I shaped the water again, forming spears and launching them forward. They pierced skulls cleanly, collapsing into harmless liquid the moment the monsters dropped.
The average human mana pool sat around 1,000. Ara had roughly 2,100, already above most. Mine was 12,000.
More than ten times the norm.
For normal spellcasters, overspending mana led to chest pain, dizziness, and backlash. For me, with my gift converting mana directly into water and allowing me to manipulate existing water without cost, this was effortless.
Child's play.
Still, I knew the truth.
I was not strong enough yet.
Not to protect everyone. Not to build something lasting. A class was necessary, and Ocean King's Successor had deeper layers that remained locked. Until then, this was only survival.
As the fighting continued, doors along the hallway slowly opened. Other residents peeked out, weapons in hand. Some held kitchen knives, others pipes or broken furniture. A few had system windows glowing faintly before their eyes.
They had the dreams too.
Once they saw Alfred tearing through monsters and the water forcing enemies back, hesitation vanished. They joined in, attacking together, covering each other's blind spots. Fear turned into coordination.
By the end of the hour, the floor was secured.
Bodies littered the stairwell, dissolving into particles of light. Points were distributed. People breathed again.
Through the combined efforts of my siblings, myself, and the other residents who remembered fragments of the apocalypse, our small apartment complex became a temporary fortress.