The world was ending, which was honestly a huge inconvenience for Daniel Von's sleep schedule.
Outside the reinforced windows of the luxury penthouse, the sky was a bruised, sickly purple—the color of Mana Death. It was a magical plague that didn't just kill you; it turned your own internal energy into a frantic, jagged glass that shattered your mind before detonating your body.
Most people were screaming, praying, or looting. Daniel just wanted a pillow that didn't smell like despair.
"Found one," Daniel muttered, his voice thick with a level of exhaustion that bordered on the supernatural.
He kicked aside a discarded Riot Police helmet and flopped onto a velvet sofa in the center of the apartment. He didn't care that this place was technically a "Death Zone." He didn't care that the city below was currently being torn apart by Mana-crazed monsters.
His unique magical attribute, [Lucky Charm], was humming at a low, steady frequency. To Daniel, it felt like a warm electric blanket. To the rest of the world, it was the reason a piece of falling satellite hadn't crushed him three towns back.
He closed his eyes, drifting toward the sweet embrace of REM sleep, when he heard a sharp click. The sound of a safety being switched off.
"Don't move," a woman's voice commanded. It was smoky, authoritative, and vibrated with the tension of someone who hadn't slept in a week.
Daniel groaned into the velvet. "If you're going to shoot me, do it quietly. I'm having a moment here."
He turned his head slowly, peering through messy bangs and heavy eyelids. Three women stood in the archway of the kitchen, and even in his sleep-deprived haze, Daniel's brain registered that they were... striking.
Sophia, the one in the middle, held a tablet and looked like she'd just stepped out of a high-end boardroom, though her silk blouse was stained with soot. Her eyes were sharp, calculating the trajectory of his life and death.
To her left was Kafka. She was taller, with the toned, lethal build of a career soldier. She held a tactical rifle leveled at Daniel's chest, her finger itching on the trigger.
On the right was Mia. She wore a tattered white lab coat over a dress that hugged curves that seemed physically impossible. She was clutching a medical kit like a shield, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and scientific curiosity.
"How did you get past the barricade?" Kafka demanded, her aim steady. "The hallway is crawling with Infected. No one gets through there alive."
"I walked," Daniel yawned, the sound stretching out for a full five seconds. "The door was unlocked. Now, if you ladies don't mind, the sun is coming up soon and the light ruins my melatonin production."
"He's infected," Sophia whispered, her eyes darting to her tablet. "Look at his vitals—he's too calm. His heart rate is... sixty? No one has a heart rate of sixty when the world is melting."
"I'm not infected," Daniel sighed, rolling onto his back. "I'm just Daniel. And I really, really want to sleep."
Mia stepped forward, her medical instincts overriding her fear. "Wait... look at his skin. There's no purple veining. No Mana-leakage. In fact..." She pulled out a handheld scanner. The device beeped rhythmically. "The Mana Death concentration in this room... it's dropping. Right where he's sitting."
The three women shared a look of pure disbelief. For weeks, they had been trapped in this apartment, watching the purple fog rise, waiting for their inevitable turn to lose their minds. And here was a man who looked like he'd just rolled out of a college dorm, bringing a pocket of impossible safety with him.
"Who are you?" Sophia asked, her voice losing its edge and replacing it with a desperate, burgeoning hope.
"A guy who's had a very long day," Daniel mumbled, his eyes finally fluttering shut. "Stay, go, shoot me... just... be quiet."
He was out in seconds.
The three "spicy" strangers stood over him, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Outside, a chorus of inhuman shreaks echoed through the streets, but inside the apartment, for the first time since the world broke, it was silent.
Sophia looked at the others, her mind already spinning a thousand new strategies. "We aren't letting him leave," she whispered.
Kafka lowered her rifle, her gaze lingering on Daniel's relaxed face. "Agreed. If he's the reason we're still breathing, I'll tie him to the bed if I have to."
Mia blushed, adjusting her glasses as she looked at the sleeping man. "I should... probably check his temperature. Frequently. For safety."
Daniel Von snored, completely unaware that his quest for a nap had just acquired three very persistent, very beautiful complications.