She gasped, sitting up so fast the world spun around her. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing hard against her ribs.
She braced herself for the agonizing grind of shattered bone, for the wet, sticky feeling of blood soaking through her clothes.
She braced for the freezing rain and the terrifying screech of the Zombie King lurking in the dark valley.
But there was no pain. There was no blood. There was no rain.
She blinked, her eyes straining against a soft, warm light filtering through sheer curtains. She was not lying in a ditch of muddy filth.
Instead, she was sitting on a soft, memory-foam mattress, tucked under a clean white duvet that smelled faintly of lavender.
"Am I dead?" she thought. "Is this what comes after the darkness?"
She looked down at her hands. They were smooth and pale. The jagged scars from cutting infected flesh, the deep calluses from swinging rusted iron pipes, the dirt caked permanently beneath her fingernails, all of it was gone.
Her skin was flawless, radiating the healthy glow of someone who slept well and ate three full meals a day.
She tentatively moved her left arm. Her shoulder sat perfectly in its socket, completely healed.
She scrambled out of the bed, her bare feet hitting a plush, warm rug instead of cold mud.
Her heart hammered against her chest like a trapped bird. She looked around the room, her breath hitching.
It was an upscale, modern apartment. A sleek television hung on the wall. A designer handbag sat on the vanity table.
It was her old apartment. The one she owned before the world burned.
Her eyes darted to the wooden desk in the corner. A small digital calendar sat next to her laptop, its red numbers glowing brightly in the quiet room.
She stumbled toward it, her fingers trembling as she touched the cold glass of the screen.
The date displayed was clear: September 4th.
It was exactly ninety days before the apocalypse.
"This can't be real," she thought, her mind racing. "I'm hallucinating. The monsters must have torn me apart, and my brain is giving me a sweet dream before I die."
Seeking any proof of reality, she snatched the television remote off the desk and pressed the power button. The screen flashed to life, tuning in to a live morning news broadcast.
A news anchor in a sharp suit stood in front of a giant digital weather map.
The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen read: Global Heatwave Breaks Century-Old Records.
"Meteorologists are urging citizens to stay indoors as temperatures reach unprecedented highs across the country," the anchor said, his voice grave.
"Meanwhile, emergency services are responding to a bizarre series of minor earthquakes along fault lines that have been dormant for hundreds of years."
The broadcast suddenly cut to a shaky video feed taken by a panicked bystander on a city street.
"We also have disturbing reports from the city zoo," the anchor continued. "Early this morning, several packs of wolves and big cats tore through their enclosures. Instead of fleeing, the animals attacked each other and their handlers in a state of inexplicable, bloodthirsty rage. Experts are calling it a sudden neurological illness, but..."
She clicked the mute button. The remote slipped from her fingers, thudding softly onto the carpeted floor.
It was not a hallucination. It was not a dream.
She remembered this exact news broadcast.
In her past life, she had watched this identical report while drinking coffee, completely ignoring the warning signs.
The record-breaking temperatures, the strange tremors, the animals turning violent, these were the very first signs of the zombie virus mutating and spreading through the environment.
She had truly returned. She was back in the past, ninety days before the end of the world.
As the absolute reality of her situation settled in, a sharp chime echoed directly inside her mind.
The sound was cold, and perfectly clear, completely separate from the noises of the apartment.
A glowing, semi-transparent blue screen materialized in the air right in front of her face.
[Survival System Activated.]
[Host scanning complete. Status: Human (Pre-Awakened). Number of days until the Great Collapse: 90.]
She gasped, taking a step back, but the floating blue screen moved with her, staying perfectly in her line of sight.
[Analyzing host's current environment... Threat detected: Severe emotional and physical anchor.]
[Mission One: Break free from your first chain.]
[Description: Cut ties with the person who drains your life force and future potential. Do not let them hold you back from preparing for the collapse.]
[Reward for Completion: Spatial Storage Space (Grade: Basic - 100 cubic meters).]
"Storage space?" she thought, her eyes widening.
In her past life, people who awakened spatial storage abilities were treated like royalty. They could hoard food, weapons, and clean medicine without ever needing to carry heavy backpacks that slowed them down.
If she had a hundred cubic meters of space right now, she could store enough survival supplies to live like a queen during the apocalypse.
But to get it, she had to break free from her first chain.
She slowly turned her head toward the large bed.
A man was lying beneath the white duvet, snoring softly. His dark hair was messy, falling gently over his forehead. His face looked peaceful, handsome, and completely innocent.
Ryan.
Looking at him, a sudden wave of intense nausea hit her. Images from the future flashed violently through her mind: Ryan standing perfectly fine on both feet, Ryan holding another woman's hand, Ryan stepping on the necklace she had nearly died to get him.
She could still hear his voice echoing in her ears: Every time you almost died... we laughed.
Her fists clenched so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms, drawing blood.
The urge to walk into the kitchen, grab a knife, and plunge it into his throat right now was almost overwhelming.
She wanted to hear him scream the way she had screamed when her ribs were crushed.
"No," she thought, forcing herself to take a deep, shaky breath.
"Killing him now is too easy. The police would arrest me, and I would waste my ninety days in a prison cell instead of preparing for the end. He doesn't deserve a quick death. He deserves to experience the exact same despair he gave to me."
She walked quietly to the closet. She pulled out a pair of dark cargo pants, a heavy black hoodie, and sturdy running shoes.
She dressed quickly, her movements silent and efficient. It was a habit drilled into her from years of dodging monsters in the dark.
She grabbed her phone, her wallet, and the keys to the apartment. This place was bought entirely with her own money.
The inheritance from her parents was sitting securely in her bank account. In her past life, she had spent every single cent buying a massive house for Ryan and supporting his lazy lifestyle while he pretended to be weak. Not this time.
She walked back to the side of the bed and looked down at him one last time.
Ryan shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent, a relaxed smile on his face. He looked so safe.
He looked like a man who believed the world would always serve him on a silver platter.
"Enjoy your comfort while it lasts," she thought, her eyes turning as cold as ice. "Because from this moment on, you are completely on your own."
Without making a sound, she turned around and walked out of the bedroom. She opened the front door, stepped into the hallway, and let the lock click softly into place behind her. She left without waking him.
Hours later, sunlight poured heavily into the bedroom, warming the sheets. Ryan groaned, stretching his arms lazily across the bed.
His hand slapped against the empty mattress beside him.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light. He expected to smell the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon.
He expected her to be standing by the bedroom door, waiting to hand him his breakfast with that adoring, pathetic look she always had.
"Hey," Ryan called out, his voice thick with sleep. "Where's breakfast? I'm hungry."
No one answered. The apartment was completely silent.
Ryan frowned, sitting up. He stretched his legs, legs that were perfectly healthy, completely free of any injury.
He swung them over the edge of the bed and walked out into the living room.
"Where did she go?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
The kitchen was pristine and empty. The coffee machine was cold. He walked over to the entryway counter and noticed something missing.
Her keys weren't there. Her phone was gone. Even the designer handbag she usually kept on the vanity was missing.
A strange feeling of unease crawled up his spine. She never left the apartment without telling him. She never did anything without asking for his permission first. Her entire life revolved around him.
He took out his phone and dialed her number.
The number you have dialed is no longer in service.
Ryan stared at the screen in utter disbelief. "What the hell?" he muttered. He tried dialing again, but the robotic voice repeated the same cold message.
She hadn't just ignored his call; she had completely shut down the line.
He rushed back into the bedroom and yanked open the closet doors. Half of the clothes were gone. All of her sturdy gear, her paperwork, and her personal belongings had vanished into thin air.
Miles away, walking down a bustling city street, a loud chime echoed inside her mind.
The transparent blue screen popped up before her eyes once again.
[Mission One Complete: First chain broken.]
[Reward Distributed: Spatial Storage Space unlocked.]
A cold, dark smile spread across her face as she looked at the crowds of people around her.
