Kael had a plan.
In his first life, he'd spent the four hours between the System's appearance and the first Rift doing exactly what everyone else did: panicking, refreshing social media, and arguing with strangers about whether the floating blue screens were a government experiment or an alien invasion.
This time, he spent those four hours preparing.
Step one: equipment. He raided the apartment for anything useful. Kitchen knives — not ideal, but the carbon steel chef's knife had decent balance. A backpack filled with water bottles, protein bars, and a first aid kit. Lena's old baseball bat from high school, aluminum, good weight.
Step two: information. He pulled up a map of the city on his phone and marked the location where the first Rift had appeared in his timeline — the central park district, right next to a school.
Step three: Lena.
"I need you to go to the basement shelter and stay there until I come back."
Lena set down her soup spoon with the precise, controlled motion that meant she was about to be extremely difficult.
"Excuse me?"
"Something bad is going to happen in the city. I can feel it. Please, just trust me on this."
"You've been acting weird since you woke up. You checked all your fingers like you expected some to be missing. You packed a go-bag in under three minutes like you've practiced it a hundred times. And now you want me to hide in a basement while you— what? Go play hero?" She crossed her arms.
She was too perceptive. She'd always been too perceptive. In his first life, that trait had made her an exceptional healer who could read a patient's pain before they described it. It had also gotten her killed when she'd noticed something wrong about the Rift in Sector 7 and gone to investigate alone.
"I'll explain everything later. I promise. But right now, I need you safe." Kael kept his voice steady.
Something in his eyes must have convinced her, because her expression shifted from stubborn to worried.
"You're coming back."
"I'm coming back." It wasn't a question.
He was halfway to the park district when his [Paradox Mark] burned.
Not physically — it manifested as a sudden spike of wrongness in his System interface, like static tearing through a clean signal. A new notification flashed:
[PARADOX DETECTED: Subject is moving toward Rift emergence point]
[Corrective Action: Rift #001 emergence time adjusted]
[Original emergence: 4 hours from Awakening]
[New emergence: NOW]
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
The sky above the park district cracked.
There was no other word for it. A seam of light split the blue sky like someone had taken a razor to a painting, and through the wound poured energy so dense it had color — swirling purple-black, like a bruise on reality.
Screams erupted from the streets below. Cars swerved. People ran.
In his first life, this Rift had been classified E-Rank. Easy. A training ground, essentially. Goblins and a few wolf-types, nothing that should kill anyone who stayed calm.
But with his [Paradox Mark] increasing dungeon difficulty by two tiers...
[Rift #001 Detected]
[Original Classification: E-Rank]
[Modified Classification: C-Rank]
[WARNING: This Rift's difficulty has been adjusted for Paradox Subject]
C-Rank. On Awakening Day. When every hunter on Earth was Level 1.
Kael watched the Rift stabilize into a shimmering oval of darkness ten meters wide, hovering three feet above the park's central fountain. Through it, he could hear growling — not the high-pitched yipping of goblins, but the deep, chest-rattling rumble of something much, much bigger.
The first creature that emerged was an Orc Warchief.
Seven feet tall. Gray-green skin stretched over slabs of muscle. Iron armor that had been crudely hammered into shape. A cleaver the size of a surfboard.
It shouldn't be here. Not today. Not for another six months.
But the System didn't care about "should."
Behind the Warchief, more shapes moved in the darkness. Five, ten, twenty — Kael stopped counting at thirty.
An entire Orc raiding party. Pouring into a park full of civilians.
Kael gripped his kitchen knife and exhaled.
In his first life, he'd needed six months of training before he could fight an Orc. But that Kael hadn't known their attack patterns, their weak points, the precise angle to strike between the third and fourth cervical vertebrae where their armor always had a gap.
This Kael did.
His stats were garbage. His weapon was a joke. The System itself wanted him dead.
He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"Alright. Let's see what you've got."
He ran toward the screaming.
[End of Chapter 2]
Next Chapter: Kael fights thirty Orcs with a kitchen knife. It goes about as well as you'd expect.