1st Person POV
The hell is this??
System?
The word echoed in my mind like static clinging to silence. It felt absurd. Unhinged.
Images from the novels and comics I'd read in the past surged through my thoughts—those overused stories where the main character gets some magical system. Cultivation ones. Apocalypse ones. Some power fantasy where fate handed out cheat codes and unlimited potential.
But this wasn't some overdrawn comic panel.
This was real.
I wanted to deny it. Wanted to laugh and shake my head and say, No way. There's no such thing as systems in real life.
But then again... zombies weren't supposed to exist either.
Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Is this some twisted experiment? Or some goddamn game by a bored higher being?
My spiral of thoughts halted when the voice returned.
[Initialization complete.]
[Major malfunction detected.]
[Activating AI Helper: A.L.T.A.I.R...]
[Activation failed. Initiating Recovery Mode...]
[Processing: 0%... 20%... 40%... 50%...]
The numbers froze.
[Recovery mode delayed. Calculating time until complete...]
[6 Months, 1 Week, 3 Days, 8 Hours, 2 Minutes and 30 Seconds.]
[Loading current system… Load complete. Proceeding Scenario 22.]
Then, something changed.
The voice that followed was different—older, unmistakably human. A man's voice, pre-recorded, yet carrying a weight that crossed time.
"Good morning, Commander. This is a recorded message."
"Pardon the sudden drop of information, but humanity is in grave danger. Two hundred years from your current time, Earth will be invaded by a hostile alien species known as Xh'kral—a hive-based, insectoid race. They carry with them a virus, one that turns humans into what you know as zombies."
"At the height of the war, they deployed agents—infected human hosts and, we suspect, the Insectoid Queen herself, along with her elite guards. Their objective was clear: to ensure humanity never becomes a threat by crippling us at the root—your present."
"In response, we developed the A.R.K Protocol System and sent it back as well. You were chosen by the system. Whether by fate, logic, or necessity—we don't know. But you are now the anchor."
"This system was designed to help you adapt, survive, and eliminate all alien threats. A.L.T.A.I.R—your AI companion—will assist you. However, if you're hearing this, then the system has sustained significant damage and cannot function at full capacity."
"I apologize for not being able to explain everything in detail—the circumstances did not allow it. But once A.L.T.A.I.R comes back online, it will answer most of your questions."
"Despite its limitations, the system's core capabilities remain active. Survive. Learn. Grow. You are humanity's last chance."
"With all due respect—Dr. Kael Thorne."
I stared at nothing. Not frozen. Not trembling. Just… processing.
Then the system chimed again, calm and neutral:
[Welcome to the A.R.K Protocol System, Commander.]
[A.R.K stands for Anachronistic Restoration Kernel—a system designed to operate outside its native timeline to restore humanity's survival probability.]
[As Dr. Thorne stated, this system's primary function is to support your survival, enhance your capabilities, and eliminate all known alien threats.]
Aliens? From the future? Savior? SAVIOR??… ME???
A scoff slipped out, followed by a low, dry chuckle.
Something curled up from my chest, coiled tight behind my ribs. Not hope. Not fear.
Something older. Heavier.
Anger. Hatred. Disgust. Contempt.
Not toward them—no, not exactly. Toward what this all reminded me of.
I didn't let it rise. Didn't let it speak. Just exhaled.
A tired breath, drawn from a place long worn thin by trying to matter in a world that never wanted saving
Whatever this is… it's either some elaborate joke targeted at me alone… or another mess thrown at the world by whatever god still bothers to look…
Maybe both.
I let my eyes close for a moment, letting the thought pass like so many before it—quiet, heavy, and unwelcome..
3rd Person POV
After a long moment of silence, the man finally opened his eyes again.
In front of him, a faint translucent screen hovered—its light soft, pulsing gently like breath. He moved slightly to the left. It followed. Turned his gaze to the right. Still there. Always centered in his vision.
He reached out.
Nothing. No sensation. No resistance. Just light.
A transparent screen edged in pale blue and white, shaped with a sleek, sci-fi aesthetic. The interface floated, quiet and responsive, following his gaze with subtle shifts. Its design was minimal but purposeful, like something built for function rather than flair.
At the top, bold text marked the screen:
[Main Menu]
[Profile]
[View your name, age, current status, current command points and special abilities.]
[Inbox]
[Access personal messages, system notifications, and received items.]
[Inventory]
[Manage all weapons, gear, and collected items.]
[Quests]
[Track your missions. Completing them rewards Command Points.]
[Store]
[Purchase and manage resources:
-Weapons
-Ammunition
-Medical Kits
-Logistics
-Vehicles
-Abilities (sorted into three categories)
-Personnel]
Below them, separated by a faint glowing divider, five more options sat idle—four dimmed with simple question marks, one clearly marked:
[??]
[??]
[??]
[??]
[?? Locked Function ??]
At the bottom, a red label pulsed slowly, almost like a heartbeat:
[System Status: Recovery Mode – 50% | AI Core Inactive]
1st Person POV
Blue and white lights pulsed faintly along the interface, the sci-fi aesthetic oddly sterile against the bloodstained room behind it.
I checked the first five options.
[Profile] showed the basics:
Name: [A—
I moved on quickly. I don't want to see that name, not yet.
Age: [ 29 ]
Status: Stable
Command Points: 0
"Command points?" I muttered. It seems like this thing is connected to the store…
Ability: -Adaptation (Grade: ?)
That last part made me pause.
I remembered what the simple introduction beneath the Store had said about Abilities—three distinct branches: Augment types, focused on enhancing the body; Ether types, manipulating raw energy; and Psion types, tapping into the power of the mind. The kind of powers that twisted physics and turned humans into something more.
And yet mine was… Adaptation.
No explanation. No rank. Just a question mark.
I stared at it for a while—longer than I meant to. Then, without a word, I moved on.
[Inbox] had two entries:
The recorded message from Dr. Thorne… and something labeled Starter Package categorized as gift.
I saved that for last.
[Inventory] was where things began to feel unreal again. A spatial grid—mapped out with neat borders and dimensions. It wasn't infinite, just… large. A total capacity of 50 cubic meters, roughly the combined size of two small shipping containers. It was empty for now, but its description noted two things: first, the space would expand if I upgraded it through the store; and second, no living beings could be stored. That, at least, made sense
So far, so sci-fi yet still somewhat makes sense. But it was [Quests] and [Store] that made me pause.
If this whole thing was created to turn me into a so-called savior, why add a quest board and a shop? It felt too… gamified. Manipulative. Until I read the details and indeed my notion was right.
[Quests]
Three primary objectives are pinned at the top:
Main Quest 1: Eliminate all Xh'kral Agents within this timeline.
Reward: ???
Time Limit: None
Main Quest 2: Clear a 500-meter radius off all infected lifeforms.
Reward: 50,000 Command Points
Time Limit: 2 Weeks
Main Quest 3: Secure and purge the surrounding city of all hostile threats.
Reward: 500,000 Command Points
Time Limit: 2 Months
Note: Objectives with time limits will expire if not completed. Timely action is recommended.
So this is where the Command Points came from… and moreover, about that note—So they basically say I should hurry if I don't want these "precious" Command Points to disappear? I scoffed.
Beneath them, under a separate label, were three side quests:
[Side Quests (Optional) ]
Side Quest 1: Eliminate 1 Zombie as first experience. (Complete)
Reward: 5.000 Command Points
I glanced back at the two corpses still sprawled on the floor. Well… That one's done.
Side Quest 2: Clear a 100-meter radius of infected lifeforms.
Reward: 10,000 Command Points
Quite difficult, but doable.
Side Quest 3: Rescue and guard 10 survivors.
Reward: 20,000 Command Points
Glad the side quests were not mandatory, I noted silently, eyes narrowing.
Note: Side quests will be refreshed every three days.
So in conclusion, the Command Points were this system's internal currency. The only way to earn them is by completing the quests it assigns, which in turn reward these points.
And those points?
They fed into the [Store].
Which can give many things in return such as Weapons. Ammunition. Medical kits. Logistics. Vehicles. Even combat abilities (locked for now). And personnel—ranging from Troops, to some support units like engineers, scientists, and even… androids and cyborgs?
Like other stores, the one in this system lists the price of each item. For example, a single Beretta M9 can cost 500 Command points.
You could either do nothing and receive 5,000 Command points weekly, or complete missions for more.
So this wasn't just a gift. It was a leash. A system designed by scientists, sure—but the structure, the pacing, the rewards… That felt military. Political. Like someone in power wanted their savior leashed to a rationed drip of strength. Enough to win. Not enough to rewrite the game.
That explained why the reward for Side Quest 3—"saving" just ten people, was almost on par with half of the reward from clearing a 500-meter radius area from the main quest.
They wanted power funneled through control. To limit my strength by tying it to how many I could babysit. How many I was willing to protect.
Either they had too much faith in their predecessors—whoever's still alive in this timeline—or they were hiding something bigger.
Something uglier.
Another time, I told myself. I shelved the time-travel headache for now and tapped open the Starter Package in the inbox.
It opened with a soft chime.
Contents:
-Glock 19 Gen 5 – 9mm pistol, reliable, modern.
Includes 3 loaded magazines (15 rounds each).
-HK416 Assault Rifle – chambered in 5.56x45mm NATO.
Includes 3 loaded magazines (30 rounds each).
And lastly—
6 Combat Troops (Special Operations Unit)
Description: Six-man direct action squad modeled after Tier 1 operators. Each member held a distinct role:
-Captain / Squad Leader
Primary: HK416A5 (EOTech Holographic Sight + Magnifier)
Sidearm: SIG Sauer P320 X-Five Legion
Gear: Tactical comms headset, GPS module, NVG-ready ballistic helmet
Field commander. Direct uplink with tactical interface. Executes high-level decisions and coordinates all unit movement.
-Breacher / Entry Specialist
Primary: Benelli M4 Super 90 Shotgun (breaching use)
Secondary Primary: M4 Carbine (CQB configuration, Aimpoint red dot)
Sidearm: Glock 19
Gear: Explosive breaching charges, reinforced breaching tools, kevlar gloves, flashbangs
Responsible for forced entry operations. First in through fortified positions. Handles explosive and mechanical breach protocols.
-Pointman / Close Quarters Scout
Primary: MP7A1 (Suppressed, red dot sight)
Sidearm: SIG Sauer P226
Gear: Lightweight armor, IR laser designator, tactical knife
Lead advance element. Clears corners, hallways, and confined structures. Optimized for high-speed maneuver and aggressive entry.
-Primary Assaulter / Combat Medic
Primary: FN SCAR-H (7.62mm, ACOG sight)
Sidearm: SIG Sauer P320
Gear: Advanced medical kit, trauma shears, injector syringes, chest seals, tourniquets, combat gauze
Provides both front-line firepower and emergency battlefield care. Stabilizes critical casualties under fire.
-Suppression Specialist / Rear Guard
Primary: M249 SAW light machine gun (Drum magazine)
Sidearm: Glock 19
Gear: Ammunition vest with extra belts, heavy ballistic armor, comm-integrated helmet
Supplies covering fire, locks down flanks, and maintains perimeter dominance. Controls choke points and fallback routes.
-Overwatch / Designated Marksman
Primary: M110 SASS with variable zoom scope (Thermal scope, suppressor, digital rangefinder)
Sidearm: SIG Sauer P226
Gear: Spotting scope, modular ghillie suit, wind meter
Long-range support and high-angle coverage. Identifies and eliminates threats beyond standard engagement range.
Note: All six members of this fireteam are next-gen combat clones—engineered and flash-trained for warfighting operations. Designed to operate autonomously or under command, they serve as direct replacements for human units in high-risk deployments where survival expectancy is minimal.
Not real Humans. They were clones—bioengineered for combat effectiveness, loyalty bound to the system-designated Commander.
Trained. Precise. Disposable.
After reviewing the package description, my eyes—or rather, my thoughts—drifted to the faintly glowing [ Receive ] button.
I didn't need to press it. A thought was enough.
A quiet prompt at the edge of my mind offered a choice: receive all at once—everything summoned into reality in one go—or call each item individually, one at a time.
I chose the Glock first.
No flash. No sound. Just presence. It materialized in my right hand, as if it had always been there.
Cold steel frame, compact slide, the rugged matte finish of a Glock 19 Gen 5. Heavier in hand, solid—undeniably real.
My fingers moved by muscle memory—check the mag, chamber, sights.
So this Glock was supposed to be my weapon for some kind of first-experience tutorial? figures, I thought dryly. That explains the first side quest.
Before the thought could linger, the pounding started again.
But I didn't move. Not yet.
There was something I needed to confirm. I walked to the living room and stood near the long chair. My focus slipped back to the interface, silent and hovering near the edge of my vision. I selected only one of the troops from the list: the Squad Leader.
I held the Glock with both hands and raised it, the weapon leveled forward—about head height—aimed at nothing. But something told me the summon would appear there. Instinct, maybe.
I flicked off the safety.
Now.