Warm sunlight filtered through cheap curtains. A distant hum of traffic rolled in from outside. The Black King—no, he was no longer that—blinked against the brightness and found himself staring at a plain ceiling.
His throat felt dry, his limbs weak. He pushed himself upright. The bed creaked under his weight.
He was in a small apartment room, the sort you'd find in any crowded city block. A desk with scattered notes. A tiny kitchen corner.
A phone charging by the window. The air held no trace of ash or sulfur, only the faint smell of instant coffee.
He glanced at his hands. No gauntlets, no scars. They were as they'd been before everything. Younger, unmarked, a bit soft even.
"What…?" he whispered. His voice startled him. He remembered a final battlefield, a monstrous foe, the heat of his sword's last strike.
He remembered victory too late. The world had ended despite it all. But here he was, in a place that felt so ordinary it almost hurt.
He looked at the date on the calendar pinned to the wall—several years before the day the Rifts opened. Before the fall of cities and the slaughter of nations.
A soft chime sounded in his head, as if a new application had booted up behind his eyes.
[System Notification: User recognized. Rebirth in progress. Adjusting personal parameters… Complete.]
He jolted. The System. He knew it. Back then, it had arrived without warning alongside the apocalypse, gifting Classes, Stats, and Skills to survivors.
But this was too early. The System shouldn't be here now. People still went to work, ate street food, argued over meaningless sports matches.
There were no monsters. No panic. The world was still intact.
He rose and stumbled to the window, pushing aside the thin curtain. Tall apartments, billboards, a few trees lining a main avenue. Cars rolling by.
Everything calm, everything normal. He swallowed hard. Was this truly a second chance?
A new prompt shimmered into view, floating midair where only he could see:
[Title Acquired: "Returned Pioneer." Status: Special Conditions Met. Hidden Path unlocked. Future apocalypse known to you alone. First Objective: Prepare. Strengthen. Survive. Second Objective: Acquire Key Fragments Before The Shift.]
[Rewards: Conditional based on performance before the Event.]
Key fragments? Hidden Path? He inhaled slowly. The System was giving him instructions.
Last time, he had been forced to react too late. Now, he could get ahead. He remembered certain artifacts that emerged soon after the initial cataclysms—items people fought wars over, items he himself had secured too late.
He could try to find them now, while no one knew their worth.
He ran a hand through his hair. No crown, no armor. He wore a cheap T-shirt and sweatpants.
How was he supposed to find these fragments? The System didn't show him a map, just gave vague clues.
He'd have to rely on his old memories. The apocalypse would start with minor incidents: strange murders, missing people near construction sites, odd creatures spotted at night.
A few secret places known only to those who survived long enough. He could get to them first if he moved now.
A sudden knock on the door made him flinch. He turned and saw a familiar face peering through the gap as it opened.
A friend—Jin-seok, from before everything. Before the chaos, they had been casual acquaintances. Now, seeing that friendly grin felt surreal.
"Hey, man, you awake?" Jin-seok asked, stepping inside. "You look like you've seen a ghost. You okay?"
"I—" He paused, voice catching. He couldn't blurt out the truth. "Yeah, just a weird dream. What's up?"
"It's almost noon. You said you'd help me look at that old bookstore downtown, remember?" Jin-seok said, raising an eyebrow. "You feeling sick?"
"No, I'm fine." The bookstore. He remembered something: that place would later become a Rift zone, known to spawn rare Skill Books right after the apocalypse.
Skill Books that had been legendary. If he could grab something there now, would it help? The System might allow him to store items somehow.
He had to try.
"Give me a minute," he said. Jin-seok shrugged and checked his phone.
Alone again, he studied the floating text. He tried to will more information out of it, but it only flickered, revealing a list of basic attributes—Strength: 5, Agility: 6, Vitality: 5, Intelligence: 7, Willpower: 8, Luck: 5—normal human numbers.
He was weaker than he'd been as the Black King, but at least he had time. Time to build up quietly, to gather items and artifacts before anyone else knew they existed.
[Hidden Notice: Certain locations aligned with future anomalies now accessible. Limited storage unlocked: 1 slot. Warning: Revealing the System now may alter events unpredictably.]
He smirked grimly. Just one storage slot, but that was better than nothing. He would have to choose carefully what to keep.
The bookstore might have strange old trinkets, maybe precursors to the artifacts that people would kill for later.
"Yo, are you sure you're cool?" Jin-seok asked, leaning into the room. "You look spaced out."
"I'm good," he lied smoothly. "Let's head out."
Outside, warm afternoon air greeted them. The city bustled, pedestrians scrolling through phones, vendors calling out, nothing hinting at an approaching apocalypse.
He felt an urgency boiling inside. He must identify future hotspots. Secret dungeons would appear beneath abandoned factories, unique weapons might form inside forgotten shrines.
He had to secure them well before the System publicly manifested.
While walking beside Jin-seok, he asked casually, "That bookstore—what's it called again?"
"Huh? The old one near the overpass? 'Moonlit Archives,' I think," Jin-seok said. "Why so curious?"
"No reason," he replied. But he remembered the Moonlit Archives would later be swallowed by a Rift that spawned Skill Tomes of Illusion and Blade Arts, incredibly rare in the future.
If he could find even a trace of them now, maybe the System would allow him to store them. Then when the Event happened, he'd be ready.
They passed a café where a TV inside played the news. The reporter talked about a strange sinkhole in another part of the country, just a footnote.
But he knew sinkholes would become gateways later. Everything lined up too well.
"Hey," he said to Jin-seok as they waited for a crosswalk signal, "if you found something valuable, like really rare old stuff, would you keep it secret?"
"Rare old stuff?" Jin-seok frowned. "You're acting strange. If I found something valuable, I might sell it. Why keep it hidden?"
He forced a laugh. "Just a thought experiment." He wouldn't confide in anyone. This advantage was his alone.
He needed to gather power silently. The System had warned him about altering events. The less others knew, the safer his advantage would be.
They continued walking until they reached the old bookstore's location. It was tucked behind newer shops, its sign faded.
Inside, shelves bowed under the weight of dusty volumes. The air smelled of paper and old glue. Perfect.
He scanned the shelves, searching for anything that glowed, anything that might trigger a System prompt. At first, nothing.
Just old novels, cookbooks, outdated encyclopedias. He moved deeper, brushing aside cobwebs.
Jin-seok sneezed. "Man, it's a dump. You sure you want to be here?"
"Just curious," he said, distracted. His eyes caught a small locked cabinet behind the counter. The lock looked flimsy.
He felt a strange tug at his senses. Could that be something?
He glanced at Jin-seok, who was busy texting on his phone. The shopkeeper snoozed behind a newspaper. Perfect.
He approached the cabinet and gave the door a gentle test. Locked. He leaned in closer and spotted a faint symbol etched into the wood—unfamiliar, yet somehow it felt connected to the System's glyphs.
If he broke in now, it might cause trouble. But what if he offered to buy something old and dusty from the shopkeeper?
He turned around and nudged Jin-seok. "Hey, think the owner would let me buy something from that cabinet?"
Jin-seok shrugged. "This place looks desperate for customers. Ask him."
With a steady breath, he stepped over to the old man at the counter and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I'm looking for rare collectibles. Anything locked away?"
The old man peered over his newspaper, squinting. "Locked cabinet? Haven't opened that in years. Keys might be in the back."
He shuffled off, muttering. After a few minutes, he returned with a rusty key. "Here, look if you want, but if you break anything, you buy it."
He nodded and knelt by the cabinet, heart pounding. Inside, he found a single small box of dark wood. He lifted it carefully.
When he opened the lid, his eyes widened. A thin sliver of metal, shaped like a half-moon, rested on worn velvet. It radiated a subtle warmth.
No normal antique would do that.
[System Notification: Potential Key Fragment Detected. Would you like to store this fragment? (Y/N)]
He almost laughed aloud. So it was real. His second chance was already paying off.
He pressed a mental "Yes."
[Item Stored. 1/1 Slots Used.]
The fragment vanished from the box without a trace. He closed the lid slowly, fighting to keep his face neutral.
He would pay the man for something else nearby so he wouldn't be suspected of theft. He grabbed a random old cookbook and placed it on the counter.
"I'll just take this," he said, feigning casual interest.
The old shopkeeper named a low price. He paid and left with Jin-seok, who gave him an odd look.
"A cookbook? You never cook."
"I might start," he said, ignoring the disbelief in his friend's eyes.
As they stepped back into the street, he spotted the sun dipping westward. Time moved on. He had a fragment.
He had confirmation that his power was real. Next, he needed training, maybe find another hotspot, gather more items when another slot unlocked.
He needed to prepare for that day when monsters would flood the streets, when ordinary life ended.
Jin-seok shrugged. "You're weird today, man. But whatever. You want to grab coffee or head home?"
"Head home," he said quickly. He needed solitude to think. To plan.
There were so many places to check, artifacts to secure, all before the world changed. The apocalypse was coming, but this time, he would be ready.
They walked in silence. He moved with purpose, mind racing. He had a future to rewrite.