The Void Emperor's blade pierced Ethan Cross's chest, and he tasted blood for the last time.
Around him, the battlefield stretched into infinity—a graveyard of humanity's final stand. Corpses piled like broken monuments to hope. The sky bled crimson, reality itself dying alongside the last survivors.
Ethan coughed, red spattering across shattered stone. His HP bar flickered: 23/12,450. Numbers that once meant power now mocked his failure.
"Is this... really the end?" His voice cracked, barely a whisper against the screaming void.
Ten years. Ten years of hell. It all came down to this—dying alone on bloodied ground while the universe collapsed.
His right arm was gone, torn off three hours ago. The legendary Abyssal Blade lay shattered beside him, its void-forged edge finally broken. Level 127. SSS-rank class. Humanity's last champion.
All worthless.
Marcus's bisected corpse lay fifteen meters away, his eyes still open in permanent shock. Dr. Wright's headless body slumped against rubble, his final invention clutched in dead fingers. Yuki hung impaled on crystalline spikes, blood frozen mid-drip.
And Aria.
God, Aria had died three years ago.
Ethan still saw her face every night. Heard her last words through fever dreams and waking nightmares: "Don't give up, Ethan. Promise me."
He'd broken that promise a thousand times since.
The Void Emperor loomed above, a writhing mass of shadows and screaming darkness. Its voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere:
[FOOLISH HUMAN. YOU FOUGHT WELL. NOW—PERISH.]
The final blow descended.
Ethan didn't fight it. What was the point? Everyone was dead. Earth was lost. The apocalypse had won.
As darkness swallowed him, one thought burned through the dying haze:
If only... if only I could go back. One more chance. I'd save them. I'd save everyone.
The world turned black.
Then—
[DING!]
The sound cut through oblivion like a blade through silk.
[SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "THE LAST SURVIVOR"]
[HIDDEN CONDITION MET: "UNBREAKABLE WILL"]
[ADMIN OVERRIDE DETECTED]
[INITIATING...]
Ethan's fading consciousness stirred. What...?
[REGRESSION PROTOCOL: ACTIVE]
[YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED A SECOND CHANCE]
[TIMELINE RESET: APPROVED]
[TRANSFERRING CONSCIOUSNESS...]
[T-MINUS 7 DAYS UNTIL SYSTEM DESCENT]
Light exploded behind his eyes.
Ethan gasped awake, lungs burning like he'd been drowning.
Air. Sweet, clean air. Not the sulfur-choked atmosphere of the dead world. Not ash and blood.
The surface beneath him was soft. Not stone. Not corpse-filled mud.
A bed.
His eyes snapped open.
Cream-colored ceiling. Water-stained tiles. Flickering fluorescent bulb. Peeling rock band poster on the wall—some ancient group called Arctic Monkeys.
He knew this ceiling.
This was...
Slowly, trembling, Ethan raised his right hand.
It was there. Whole. Young. Unmarked by scars. Five fingers, all present.
"No fucking way..."
He sat up too fast, head spinning. The room materialized in crystal clarity: cramped college dorm, secondhand furniture, clothes scattered across the floor. Marcus's side of the room, messy as always. The window showed morning light streaming through cheap blinds.
His phone—an ancient model, pre-apocalypse vintage—buzzed on the nightstand.
[March 1st, 2025 - 7:47 AM]
[Alarm: Don't Skip Morning Class!]
Seven days.
Seven days before March 8th.
Seven days before the Nexus System descended and turned Earth into a death game.
Seven days before the apocalypse began.
Ethan's hands shook. Then his shoulders. Then his entire body convulsed with barely contained emotion.
A sound escaped his throat—half laugh, half sob—utterly broken.
"I'm back." The words tasted impossible. "I'm actually back."
Ten years of memories crashed over him like a tidal wave. Deaths. Screams. Blood. The weight of every failure, every loss, every moment of powerless despair—it all flooded through him at once.
Tears streamed down his face. He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to contain the storm.
Marcus's door opened. "Yo, you good? Thought I heard—"
Ethan looked up.
Marcus Chen stood in the doorway, alive and whole. Nineteen years old, wearing a stupid graphic tee, hair disheveled from sleep. The same Marcus who'd died on Day 47, protecting his sister from a Crimson Wyvern.
The same Marcus whose death Ethan had watched helplessly, too weak to save him.
"Ethan? Dude, you're crying. What's wrong?"
Ethan wiped his face roughly. "Nothing. Just... weird dream."
"Must've been intense." Marcus grabbed a towel. "Shower's free. I'm hitting the dining hall in twenty. You coming?"
"Yeah." Ethan's voice cracked. "I'm coming."
Marcus left, oblivious.
Ethan stood on shaking legs and walked to the mirror.
Twenty-two years old stared back. Scrawny frame, soft edges, no muscle definition. The body of someone who'd never fought for his life. Clean skin unmarked by combat scars or burn tissue. Dark circles under his eyes—but from studying, not PTSD.
He looked... weak.
Because he was. Level 0. No class. No skills. No power.
But he had something infinitely more valuable:
Knowledge.
He knew where every hidden dungeon spawned. The secret quest chains nobody discovered until year three. Boss patterns. Safe zones. Resource locations. And most crucially—how to obtain the Void Reaver class that 0% of players ever unlocked.
Ethan clenched his fists, watching the reflection harden.
"This time," he whispered to the mirror, voice steel over stone, "this time I save them all."
His phone buzzed again. Calendar reminder:
[University Event: Spring Festival - March 8th]
The same day the world would end.
Ethan opened his phone's notepad, fingers flying across the screen. Seven days to prepare. He needed:
DAY 1-2: Liquidate all assets. Buy survival gear.
DAY 3-4: Locate Hidden Dungeon #1 entrance. Prepare route.
DAY 5-6: Warn key people (subtly). Position supplies.
DAY 7: System descends. Survive tutorial. Begin Void Reaver quest chain.
The plan crystallized in his mind with mechanical precision—a decade of survival instinct compressed into executable steps.
But first, he had to deal with normalcy. Pretend to be a regular college student for one more week. Let people think he was sane.
Then the real work began.
Marcus knocked. "Yo! You falling asleep in there? Food's getting cold!"
"Coming!" Ethan called back.
He splashed cold water on his face, took a steadying breath, and opened the door.
Marcus grinned. "There he is. Thought you'd zombied out on me."
If only you knew, Ethan thought. If only you knew what's coming.
"Just needed a minute." Ethan forced a smile. "Let's eat."
They walked through campus, morning sun warm on skin Ethan hadn't felt in years. Students laughed and chatted, completely unaware their world would end in 168 hours.
The dining hall buzzed with life. Food smells hit him like a freight train—actual cooked food, not ration paste or monster meat jerky. His hands trembled holding the tray.
"You sure you're okay?" Marcus asked, loading pancakes. "You've been weird all morning."
"Weird how?"
"I dunno. Like you're seeing everything for the first time. Or the last time." Marcus laughed. "Deep thoughts before breakfast, man?"
Ethan's throat tightened. The last time, Marcus had said.
For 99% of these people, this was the last normal week of their lives.
"Something like that," Ethan managed.
They sat. Marcus inhaled food like a vacuum while Ethan picked at eggs, stomach churning despite the hunger.
Across the hall, he spotted her.
Aria Sinclair.
She sat with three friends, laughing at something on someone's phone. Twenty-one years old, pre-med track, brilliant and kind. Her dark hair caught the light, and her smile—God, that smile—he hadn't seen it in forever.
In the first timeline, she'd died on Day 182. Protecting strangers from a Berserker Troll while her healing cooldown recharged. She'd looked at him as life faded from her eyes and whispered, "At least I saved them."
Ethan had held her corpse for three hours before he could let go.
Now she was alive. Vibrant. Unaware that in seven days she'd awaken as a Novice Healer and begin a journey toward death.
Not this time, Ethan swore silently. I'll keep you alive even if it kills me.
"Dude, you're staring," Marcus hissed.
Ethan snapped back. "What?"
"At Aria. You're hardcore staring. Since when do you have a thing for her?"
"I don't—" Ethan stopped. He couldn't explain. "Just spaced out."
"Uh huh." Marcus grinned. "She's in my Bio lecture. Want me to introduce you?"
"No." The word came out too sharp. "I mean... not right now."
Marcus raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Touchy subject."
Ethan forced himself to look away. Getting close to her now would complicate things. She needed to survive the early days, and his protection would be suspicious before the apocalypse even started.
But watching her laugh, so alive, so doomed—it took every ounce of willpower not to walk over and warn her.
His phone buzzed.
[Text from Unknown: Your past is showing, Ethan Cross.]
Ethan's blood froze.
He opened the message thread. Nothing. The text vanished as he watched, like it had never existed.
What the hell?
"Everything cool?" Marcus asked around a mouthful of pancake.
"Yeah. Spam text." Ethan's mind raced.
Someone knows.
But who? The System Admins? Another regressor? Impossible—he was the only one. The System had told him regression was a one-time occurrence.
Unless it lied.
The thought sent ice through his veins. If another regressor existed with different goals—or worse, if the Admins were watching him—this changed everything.
He needed information. Fast.
"Marcus," Ethan said carefully, "you know that abandoned warehouse district near the old factory?"
"The sketchy one off Route 9? Yeah, why?"
"Just curious. Ever been there?"
"Hell no. That place is condemned. Why would anyone go there?"
Because in seven days, that's where Hidden Dungeon #1 spawns, Ethan thought. And I need to be first inside.
"No reason. Heard some urban explorer stuff about it."
Marcus shrugged. "You getting into that? Seems dangerous."
"Maybe." Ethan stood, tray in hand. "I need to hit the library. Research project."
"Since when do you research ahead of deadlines?"
"Since now." Ethan forced a grin. "New me. Very studious."
Marcus laughed. "I'll believe it when I see it. Catch you later?"
"Yeah. Later."
Ethan dumped his tray and headed for the exit, mind spinning through contingencies.
Seven days wasn't much time. He needed to:
Confirm the hidden dungeon location hadn't changed
Acquire supplies without drawing attention
Identify the mysterious texter
Prepare mentally for the trauma of reliving the apocalypse
That last one... he wasn't sure he could prepare for.
His hands trembled as he walked. Not from fear. From anticipation.
Ten years he'd waited for this chance. Ten years of survivor's guilt, nightmares, and rage at his own powerlessness.
Not anymore.
He reached the campus library, a massive stone building that would become a fortress in the apocalypse timeline. In year two, it had held 3,000 survivors before a gate breach wiped them out.
Ethan walked to the computer lab, logged into a public terminal, and opened a blank document.
[REGRESSION LOG - DAY 1]
Timeline Deviations Detected: None yet
Survivor Status: All targets alive
Personal Status: Mentally unstable but functional
Unknown Variables: Mysterious text message
Next Steps: Recon mission to warehouse district
He saved the file to a USB drive, cleared the browser history, and left.
Outside, the March afternoon gleamed with deceiving beauty. Blue sky. Warm breeze. Students playing frisbee on the quad.
In seven days, this field would be splattered with blood as goblins poured from the first gate.
Ethan closed his eyes, breathing through the flashback.
When he opened them, his jaw was set.
"Let them enjoy it," he murmured. "While they still can."
His phone buzzed one more time.
[Text from Unknown: Tick tock, Ethan. Six days, twenty-three hours, fourteen minutes. The clock is counting down. Are you?]
Then, before he could respond:
[Don't trust the System. It's watching. They're always watching.]
The message deleted itself.
Ethan's heart hammered. Someone knew. Someone was sending him messages that vanished. Someone other than the System.
An ally? An enemy?
He didn't know.
But he'd find out.
Because this time, he wasn't playing by anyone's rules.
Not the System's.
Not fate's.
Not even God's.
This was his second chance.
And he'd burn the world down before he wasted it.