The train rattled through the city, its rhythm a familiar lullaby that Raye had heard countless times before. Outside the windows, the world moved past in streaks of light and shadow. Neon signs flickered from storefronts. Cars honked in distant traffic. People hurried along sidewalks, their faces illuminated by the glow of their phones.
Normal. Peaceful. Alive.
Raye pressed his forehead against the cool glass, watching it all slide by. His reflection stared back at him, younger than he remembered, unmarked by scars and exhaustion. Black hair with that distinctive white streak framing his face. Those cyan eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the train car. The face of someone who hadn't yet watched the world die.
'Four hours,' he thought, glancing at his watch. The numbers glowed softly. 18:23. 'Four hours until everything changes.'
The apocalypse would begin at exactly ten o'clock in the evening. Not gradually. Not with warnings or signs. Just suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch and rewritten the rules of reality itself.
He closed his eyes, remembering. The sky had split open first, torn like fabric, revealing something vast and incomprehensible beyond. Then they had come. The moderators. Tiny beings no larger than a human hand, vaguely humanoid in shape, with translucent wings that shimmered like oil on water. Fair folk, some had called them in those first confused moments. Fairies. Sprites.
But there was nothing whimsical about them.
They had appeared everywhere, simultaneously, in every city and town and village across the globe. Hovering in the air with their emotionless faces, speaking in voices that bypassed the ears entirely and resonated directly in the mind. Announcing the first scenario. Explaining the rules with clinical precision. Showing no mercy to those who begged or pleaded or demanded answers.
They were simply there to moderate. To oversee. To ensure the scenarios proceeded as designed.
Raye's hands clenched into fists on his lap. His city would get one moderator. Just one. But that single being would be responsible for orchestrating trials that would kill thousands. And his family, his mother and sister, they lived in another country entirely. A different moderator. Different scenarios.
'I can't save them directly,' he thought, the realization settling like lead in his stomach. 'Not at first. I'll have to trust that they can survive the early scenarios on their own.'
It hurt. The knowledge that he couldn't protect them immediately, that he'd have to focus on building his own strength first before he could reach across borders to help them. But he'd learned this lesson the hard way in his first life. Rushing in without preparation only led to more deaths.
The train began to slow, its brakes squealing softly. Raye opened his eyes and straightened in his seat. His stop was coming up.
'Focus on what I can control,' he told himself. 'One step at a time.'
He stood as the train pulled into the station, swaying slightly with its movement. The doors hissed open, and he stepped out onto the platform along with dozens of other passengers. All of them heading home, completely unaware that this was their last normal evening.
Raye walked through the station, his footsteps echoing on the tiles. The familiar route stretched before him. Up the stairs. Through the turnstile. Out onto the street where the evening air carried the scent of cooking food from nearby restaurants.
His apartment wasn't far. A small place, barely more than a single room with a kitchenette and bathroom. The kind of space a part time worker could afford while attending community college. In his first life, he'd been planning to move somewhere better. Save up enough money for a real place.
Those plans had died with the first scenario.
Raye climbed the stairs to the third floor, his legs moving automatically while his mind churned through calculations and strategies. The building was old, the paint on the walls peeling in places, but it was home. Or had been. Would be again, for a few more hours at least.
He unlocked his door and stepped inside, flicking on the light. The apartment greeted him exactly as he remembered it. A futon rolled up in the corner. A small table with a laptop. A kitchenette with two burners and a sink. Shelves lined with textbooks and manga. Posters on the walls showing characters from games and shows he'd once found exciting.
The mundane details of a life that no longer existed.
Raye closed the door behind him and leaned against it, finally allowing himself to breathe. Really breathe. The tension that had been coiled in his chest since the moment he'd opened his eyes on the train began to unwind, just slightly.
'I'm back,' he thought. 'I'm actually back.'
But there was no time to waste on relief or wonder. He had work to do.
Raye moved to his table and sat down, pulling up the interface for his new system with a thought. The golden menus materialized before him, far more sophisticated than anything he'd had access to in his first life. The interface shimmered with an ethereal quality, as if the very fabric of reality had been woven into its display.
[The Architect's System]
[Welcome, Avatar of Promethor]
He navigated through the main menu, taking in the array of options that had been unavailable to him before. The system was vast, far more comprehensive than the basic interfaces most awakened individuals received.
[Main Menu]
- Status
- Skills
- Inventory
- Divine Vault
- Shop
- Quest Log
- Constellation Communication
- Records
Raye's eyes lingered on several of these options. The shop would be crucial for purchasing essential items and enhancements. The quest log might provide guidance from Promethor himself. And the records section, that was new entirely. Perhaps a way to document the scenarios, to keep track of information he'd need.
But first, he needed to understand where he stood.
He selected the status option, and the information populated quickly, neat columns of text and numbers filling his vision.
[Status]
Name: Raye Silver
Level: 1
Title: None
Class: Locked
Talent: [Recalibrating... Estimated completion: 00:03:47]
Health: 320/320
Mana: 450/450
Stamina: 280/280
Strength: 12
Agility: 15
Vitality: 16
Intelligence: 22
Wisdom: 18
Luck: 8
Available Stat Points: 0
Available Skill Points: 0
Raye's jaw tightened as he examined the numbers. Level one. No class unlocked yet. No skills available. His stats were marginally better than a complete novice, likely a result of Promethor's reconstruction of his body, but they were nowhere near what he'd possessed at the end of his previous journey.
The talent calculation intrigued him. Three hours and forty seven minutes until the system finished analyzing his new potential. Whatever Promethor had done to him, it had fundamentally altered his base capabilities. The old rating system might not even apply anymore.
'Expected,' he reminded himself. 'Time turned back. Of course I'd start over.'
But as he navigated to the next section, his expression shifted. The Divine Vault interface opened, revealing a treasure trove that transcended temporal limitations.
[Divine Vault]
Current Balance: 847,293 Coins
Stored Items: 23
Categories: Consumables, Equipment, Materials, Artifacts, Miscellaneous
Raye exhaled slowly. Nearly a million coins, accumulated over years of completing scenarios and receiving gifts from constellations. That wealth alone put him leagues ahead of where he'd started before.
He expanded the item categories, scanning through what had been preserved.
[Consumables - 7 Items]
- Essence of Temporal Awareness x1
- Greater Healing Elixir x3
- Mana Restoration Draught x2
- Elixir of Iron Fortitude x1
[Equipment - 4 Items]
- Ring of the Unyielding (Rare)
- Cloak of Swift Shadows (Uncommon)
- Boots of the Wanderer (Common)
- Pendant of Mental Clarity (Uncommon)
[Materials - 8 Items]
- Fragment of a Fallen Star x1
- Mithril Ore x3
- Dragon Scale Shard x2
- Ethereal Silk x5
- Heartwood Branch x4
- Voidstone Fragment x1
- Crystallized Mana x10
- Phoenix Ash x2
[Artifacts - 3 Items]
- Compass of True Direction (Epic)
- Hourglass of Borrowed Time (Legendary)
- Seal of the Forgotten Pact (Rare)
[Miscellaneous - 1 Item]
- Constellation Communication Token x5
Raye felt his pulse quicken as he reviewed the inventory. The Hourglass of Borrowed Time, he'd forgotten he still had that. A legendary artifact that could slow time in a localized area for a brief period. It had saved his life more than once in the final scenarios.
The Compass of True Direction would be invaluable for locating hidden objectives and secret areas within scenario zones. And the materials, particularly the Fragment of a Fallen Star and the Voidstone, those were components for high tier crafting that most players never even saw.
'This changes everything,' he thought, his mind already racing with possibilities. With proper planning, he could accelerate his growth exponentially. Purchase essential skills from the shop. Craft equipment that would give him an edge. Maybe even help others level faster.
He closed the vault interface and opened the shop menu, curious about what would be available to him.
[System Shop]
Categories:
- Skills (Locked - Requires Level 5)
- Equipment (Available)
- Consumables (Available)
- Materials (Available)
- Enhancement Tokens (Locked - Requires Level 10)
- Scenario Information (Available)
- Miscellaneous (Available)
Special Offers:
- Architect's Starter Package: 50,000 Coins
- Early Access Skill Tome: 100,000 Coins
- Random Epic Equipment Box: 75,000 Coins
Raye's eyes narrowed as he examined the special offers. The Architect's Starter Package was clearly designed for him specifically, a benefit of being Promethor's avatar. The price was steep, but if it contained what he suspected, it would be worth every coin.
The Early Access Skill Tome intrigued him even more. Normally, skills couldn't be purchased until level five, but this offered a workaround. One powerful skill before the first scenario could mean the difference between life and death for dozens of people.
'Later,' he decided. 'After I see what my talent becomes. No point buying blind.'
He closed the shop and leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair, feeling the white streak slide between his fingers. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on him. Ninety nine scenarios. Ninety nine chances to save people. To build an army strong enough to face the Fallen Constellations.
But he wouldn't be doing it alone this time.
The thought brought a name to the forefront of his mind, someone he'd been deliberately avoiding thinking about until now because the memory was too painful.
Allison Hart.
His childhood friend. His first crush. The girl with the bright smile and infectious laugh who'd lived three houses down from his family before they'd moved away. Golden hair that caught the sunlight like spun silk. Red eyes that seemed to burn with an inner fire. A spirit that refused to break no matter how hard the world pushed.
They'd kept in touch for a while after his family moved, exchanging messages and occasional video calls, but life had gotten busy. College, work, the endless grind of trying to make something of themselves. By the time the apocalypse hit, they'd drifted apart, their conversations reduced to occasional likes on social media posts.
Raye had learned of her fate months into the scenarios, through scattered reports and rumors that spread among survivors. Allison Hart, holder of an SSS rank talent. One of the rarest classifications, a mark of extraordinary potential. She'd risen quickly, gathering followers, clearing scenarios with efficiency that bordered on miraculous.
And then she'd signed a contract. A constellation had seen her potential, had offered her power beyond imagination, and she'd accepted.
The partnership had amplified Allison's already formidable abilities, granting her access to powers that defied conventional understanding. Her patron had blessed her with dominion over spiritual energy, allowing her to manifest constructs of pure luminescence.
But it was her signature skill that had earned her fame. Spirit Sword. An ability that allowed her to manifest a blade of pure golden light from her very essence, a weapon forged from her soul itself. When she wielded that sword, she became nearly invincible. Her movements were too fast to track. Her strikes cut through defenses like they didn't exist. Enemies that had slaughtered dozens fell before her in seconds.
The Spirit Sword, they'd called her. A title spoken with reverence and fear.
Raye had watched her rise from a distance, too weak and insignificant to approach her, to reconnect. By the time he'd finally gathered the courage, she'd been assigned to a different region, fighting battles he could only hear about secondhand. The scenarios had a way of separating people, scattering survivors across zones based on their capabilities and the needs of each area.
He'd never gotten to speak with her again. Never told her how proud he was. Never apologized for letting their friendship fade.
And in the end, she'd died.
Not in combat. Not facing a constellation or clearing a scenario. But in a moment of betrayal, cut down by someone she'd trusted, someone who'd wanted her artifacts and position. A teammate who'd smiled to her face while plotting her murder.
Raye had learned about it three scenarios too late. The news had reached him as little more than a footnote in the endless cascade of deaths. Allison Hart, the Spirit Sword, killed by a teammate during a resource dispute.
He'd broken down when he heard. Wept like he hadn't wept since the early days. Not just because she was gone, but because he'd let the distance grow between them. Because he'd been too much of a coward to reach out when it mattered.
'Not this time,' Raye thought, his hands curling into fists on the table. 'This time I'll find her before the scenarios even begin. Before she has a chance to drift away or fall in with the wrong people.'
Allison lived in the same city he did. He remembered that much. Her apartment was on the east side, near the university district. If he left early tomorrow morning, before dawn, he could reach her before the chaos of the first scenario made travel impossible.
The question was what he'd say. How did you approach someone and tell them the world was about to end? That they needed to trust you, a near stranger at this point, because you'd lived through a timeline that hadn't happened yet?
'Figure it out when I get there,' Raye decided. 'For now, just make sure I know where to find her.'
He pulled out his phone, the device feeling strange in his hands after so long without modern technology. In the later scenarios, electricity had become scarce. Communications infrastructure had collapsed. Smartphones were useless relics, their screens dark and their networks silent.
But now, everything still worked.
Raye opened his contacts and scrolled through the list. There, near the top, was her name. Allison Hart. The last message they'd exchanged was from two months ago. A casual check in, a brief conversation about nothing important. How was school going. Had she seen that new movie. Generic pleasantries between people who'd once been close but had let time erode their connection.
He stared at her name for a long moment, his thumb hovering over it. The profile picture showed her smiling at the camera, golden hair pulled back in a ponytail, red eyes bright with laughter. Alive. Unaware of what was coming.
'Tomorrow,' he told himself. 'I'll call her tomorrow. Too late now to do it without seeming weird.'
He set the phone down and stood, moving to the kitchenette. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since... well, since before he'd fought Baphometh. Which technically hadn't happened yet. Time travel made tense confusing.
Raye opened a cabinet and found what he was looking for. Instant ramen. Three packages of it, the cheap kind that college students lived on. In his first life, he'd eaten these the night before the apocalypse without thinking twice about it.
Now, the sight of them made his throat tighten.
'Simple pleasures,' he thought, pulling out a pot and filling it with water. 'Enjoy them while they last.'
He set the pot on the burner and turned on the heat, watching the water begin to shimmer as it warmed. The mundane process was almost meditative. Tear open the package. Add the noodles. Wait for them to soften. Stir in the flavor packet.
The smell that rose from the pot was incredible. Salty and savory and utterly ordinary. Raye closed his eyes and just breathed it in, committing the scent to memory.
When the ramen was done, he poured it into a bowl and carried it back to his table. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, not because the food was particularly good but because he knew what was coming. Ration bars and scavenged canned goods and meals cooked over improvised fires. The luxury of hot, fresh food would become a distant memory soon enough.
As he ate, his mind continued to work through plans and contingencies. Allison was his first priority, but she wasn't the only person he needed to recruit. There were others. People with extraordinary talents who'd either died early or been corrupted by the wrong influences. If he could gather them, train them, keep them alive through the early scenarios...
'Build a team,' he thought. 'Not just survivors, but the strongest survivors. People who can actually make a difference.'
It was ambitious. Probably insane. But he had knowledge that no one else possessed. He knew which scenarios were coming. He knew their mechanics, their win conditions, their hidden traps. He knew which constellations were trustworthy and which were predatory.
He had every advantage except time.
Raye finished his meal and washed the bowl in the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. Through the window above the sink, he could see the city lights spreading out into the distance. Millions of people out there, all of them living their last hours of normalcy.
'I can't save everyone,' he admitted to himself. 'But I can save more than last time. I have to.'
He dried his hands and moved to the corner of his apartment, unrolling his futon and spreading out the blanket. His body was exhausted, not from physical exertion but from the sheer emotional weight of everything that had happened. Dying. Contracting with a god. Being rebuilt. Traveling through time.
Sleep would be difficult, but he needed to try. Tomorrow would be the longest day of his life. Again.
Raye lay down on the futon and stared up at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet except for the distant sounds of the city. Cars passing on the street below. Muffled conversation from a neighboring unit. The hum of the refrigerator.
Peaceful sounds. Dead sounds, soon enough.
His watch read 20:47. One hour and thirteen minutes until the moderators appeared. Until the first announcement echoed across the world. Until everything changed.
'Get some rest,' he told himself. 'You'll need it.'
But sleep didn't come easily. His mind kept returning to the faces of people he'd lost. His mother's gentle smile. His sister's teasing laugh. Jiro's unwavering determination. And Allison, always Allison, the girl with golden hair and eyes like burning rubies, whose spirit had shone so bright before being snuffed out by treachery.
'I'll find you,' he promised the darkness. 'First thing in the morning. Before anything bad can happen. I'll find you and I'll keep you safe and this time, we'll make it through together.'
The watch ticked quietly on his wrist, counting down the seconds to apocalypse.
Raye closed his eyes and focused on breathing. In and out. Steady and calm. Tomorrow he would need to be sharp. Alert. Ready for anything.
Tonight, for just a few more hours, he could pretend the world wasn't about to end.
He could rest in the last moments of peace and prepare himself for the war to come.
Tomorrow morning, before the sun fully rose, he would go to Allison. He would find her, talk to her, convince her somehow that he was worth trusting. That the rambling words of a former friend warning about an impending apocalypse weren't the delusions of a madman but the desperate truth of someone who'd already lived through the end.
And then, together, they would begin the impossible task of saving humanity.
But for now, in this quiet apartment, in this borrowed moment of calm, Raye Silver allowed himself to simply exist. A young man on a futon, black and white hair splayed across the pillow, cyan eyes finally closing against the weight of exhaustion, waiting for morning.
The city hummed beyond his walls, oblivious and doomed.
And Raye, the weakest survivor who'd become something more, began to drift toward uneasy sleep.