2

It started with a silent strain of an airborne virus, a spore epidemic that swept across continents in a single month like an invisible wildfire. But the true nightmare broke out in forty-eight short hours.

In two endless days, civilization didn't just crumble; it vanished under a tide of blood and rot. Millions perished every single hour. Billions turned into mindless, snapping corpses before the military could even react.

Only those who happened to be completely isolated or miraculously locked away in underground shelters managed to draw another breath.

Just like us.

When the virus reached its critical tipping point, Chloe, Julian, and I were miles away from society, camping deep in the mountain wilderness. We had been utterly oblivious, laughing around a campfire while the world burned.

The shock of returning to civilization was something that would haunt my soul forever, empty highways littered with abandoned cars, blood-smeared shopfronts, and the stench of decay lingering thick in the air. Death was everywhere. Death was all there was.

We only survived that first terrifying hour because my father's heavy-duty SUV was parked nearby. We scrambled inside just as a horde of gray-skinned, snapping infected surged out of the tree line, missing us by inches.

We fled back to my family's city apartment, where my mother, Luisa, took us in without a second thought. She held us while we wept, bandaged our cuts, and cooked whatever warm food we had left.

For two grueling weeks, my father, my younger brother TJ, and Julian worked like men possessed, fusing that SUV with steel grates, reinforced bumpers, and thick polycarbonate windows, turning it into a heavy-armored survival machine.

Julian, Chloe, and I ventured out on terrifying runs to hoard supplies from the abandoned grocery stores nearby, relying on my family's hospitality and my father's hard work to stay alive.

And that was when he started showing up.

It was utterly bizarre, terrifying, and deeply unnatural. No matter where we went to forage for canned goods, a single zombie kept appearing in the background. He didn't sprint or snarl wildly like the others; he tracked us with a strange, unnatural intent.

He was dressed in a tailored, blood-soaked Italian suit, a man who, before the collapse, had been Steve Diamond, the world-renowned, eccentric young billionaire. I had never met him in my life. I was just a twenty-year-old student! Yet his clouded, dead eyes were constantly fixed on me.

He stalked me through the ruins like an obsessed phantom, groaning from the shadows, leaving strange, rotten trinkets near our scavenging routes. I didn't know why he targeted me, and the sheer unpredictability of his obsession kept my blood running cold every single night.

Then came the day the world truly ended for me.

Our living room window, the only barrier between us and the growing mass of infected outside, couldn't hold. The glass shattered with an deafening roar. In seconds, the horde poured in.

I can still hear the screams. My mother, Luisa, crying out my name as she was pulled down. My little brother, TJ, fighting with everything he had before fangs tore into his throat. They were bitten, infected, and slaughtered right in front of my eyes.

The living room turned into a slaughterhouse, their blood painting the walls while Julian, Chloe, and I barely managed to escape through the back fire exit.

I was broken. My heart was completely shattered. I couldn't process the grief, the sheer, crushing hopelessness of losing my family in a matter of minutes.

And how did my best friend and my boyfriend repay my family's kindness? How did they honor the mother who fed them and the father who built our ticket to survival?

They stole it.

Julian shoved me into the filthy alleyway, grabbing the keys to the very SUV my family had died preparing. Chloe stared down at me with cold, callous disgust, treating me like dead weight.

They left me to rot in the mud with broken ribs, driving off in our custom survival rig. The last thing I saw before they sped away was the spin of those heavily armored wheels—the wheels my family built, kicking up dirty rainwater into my face.

The anger flared in my chest now, hot and suffocating, burning away the lingering fear. I was so remarkably, idiotically stupid. I had trusted them. I had loved them. And they had discarded me like trash the moment my family's blood dried on the floor.

And as I lay there bleeding in the dark, helpless and heartbroken, the horde had closed in. At the front of them was the suit-wearing zombie, Steve Diamond. His cold, dead hands had pinned me to the wet pavement, his clouded eyes staring down into mine with that terrifying, obsessive hunger, before his fangs finally sank into my flesh and ended my life.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears streaming down my hot cheeks as a terrible, burning resolve took root deep within my soul.

No more.

Suddenly, a strange, warm sensation pulsed deep within my stomach, a slow, hum-like vibration, like an internal engine waking up from a long sleep. My gaze dropped to my nightstand, landing on a small, rusted iron paperweight I had picked up at a flea market years ago. It was scratched, oxidized, and flaking apart.

Unconsciously, driven by an instinct I couldn't explain, I picked it up.

My jaw felt strangely light. Without thinking, as if possessed by a newly awakened, bizarre memory, I brought the hard iron chunk to my mouth... and took a bite.

“Bloody hell! It tastes disgusting.” I spit it out and put back the iron paperweight in my night table.

Why the hell did I even bite it? Ew!

By the time my storm of emotions finally quieted, my jaw ached, and my stomach felt strangely full.

I wiped the last of my tears away and practically threw myself down the stairs into the kitchen. The second my mother turned around from the stove, I wrapped my arms around her waist, squeezing her so hard she let out a soft gasp.

I buried my face into her shoulder, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of vanilla extract and cinnamon.

"Woah, honey! What’s all this about?" Mom chuckled, wrapping her arms around me and patting my back gently. Her brow furrowed into a deep, concerned frown, but she didn't ask why I was acting like the world was ending. "Bad nightmare?"

"Just... missed you, Mom," I choked out, my voice muffled against her apron.

She just smiled, smoothing down my messy hair. To her, this was probably just a weird, dramatic young-adult phase, a random emotional breakdown from her newly graduated daughter. She had no idea that in three hundred and sixty-five days, I would watch her blood pool across our living room floor.

Two hours later, I was back in my room, staring at the glowing screen of my laptop. A blank notebook sat beside my keyboard, filled with frantically scribbled dates, locations, and notes about the upcoming outbreak.

The global spore spread: October 9, next year.

The two-day collapse.

The horde routes.

I stared at the pages, and a cold, suffocating wave of reality slammed into me.

"Damn it," I whispered, clutching my head in my hands. "Where the hell do I even start?"

Let’s be brutally honest here: I was a twenty-year-old fresh graduate. I was working a dead-end, minimum-wage part-time shift at a local coffee shop while fruitlessly sending out resumes.

I was broke. My father was a decent, hardworking police sergeant, respected, but certainly not wealthy.

My mom was a home-based baker making small custom cakes. My little brother, TJ, was a broke college sophomore who spent half his allowance on instant ramen and video games.

We didn't have millions of dollars to build an underground bunker. We didn't have a mountain retreat.

To make matters worse, my phone kept buzzing endlessly on the desk.

Julian [10:12 AM]: Hey babe, you awake? Let’s grab lunch before your shift?

Chloe [10:15 AM]: Deee!! Girls' night tonight! You, me, and drinks. You can't say no!!

I stared at the screen, my lip curling in sheer disgust. I didn't reply to either of them. Looking back now with clear eyes, the signs were so obvious, the secretive glances between them, the shared laughter, the way Julian’s phone was always turned face down whenever Chloe came over.

They were probably already behind my back, fucking behind closed doors while playing the loving boyfriend and loyal best friend to my face.

In my past life, that discovery would have destroyed me. Now? I couldn't care less if they burned in hell. The absolute lack of love left in my heart for them was almost liberating. But the pure rage? That was still very alive.

"Priorities, Adelle," I muttered to myself, rubbing my temples as hours bled away into the afternoon. "Forget those two traitors. How do I keep my family alive?"

I slammed my fists on the desk in frustration. "Damn it! I'm back one year in the past! As far as all those web novels and webtoons are concerned, I’m supposed to be a regressor, right?!"

I stood up and paced around my small bedroom, throwing my hands in the air.

"Where the hell is my cheat skill?! Where is my infinite dimensional subspace inventory?! Where’s my system window?! Where’s my magic?!"