The world didn't change all at once.
It hesitated.
Rian noticed it before he even opened his eyes.
The air felt heavier than it should have—like pressure building before a storm that hadn't arrived yet. His breathing was steady, but something underneath it felt off, like the rhythm of the world itself had skipped a beat.
He sat up slowly.
No alarms.
No screams.
No system prompts.
Yet his instincts screamed anyway.
"This again..." he murmured.
In his last life, this was the point no one paid attention to. The moment the world first flinched—and everyone ignored it.
⸻
The World Reacts
By mid-morning, the cracks began to show.
Traffic lights across several intersections blinked erratically before going dark, causing drivers to honk and shout in confusion. Inside stores, digital screens froze, restarted, then froze again. Cell phones lost signal for several seconds at a time, reconnecting without explanation.
Rian walked through the streets, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp.
People rubbed their temples, complaining of headaches. A man stumbled out of a subway entrance, pale and sweating, muttering that he couldn't breathe. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered—not from impact, but from vibration.
Animals reacted worse.
Dogs whined and refused to move. Birds abandoned rooftops in sudden flocks, scattering without direction. Even insects seemed agitated, crawling out from cracks and drains as if fleeing something unseen.
No monsters.
No dungeons.
Just unease.
⸻
He Feels It First
Rian stopped near a small park and closed his eyes.
There it was.
For less than a second, mana density spiked.
Not enough to absorb. Not enough to act on. Just enough to be felt.
Spiritual energy followed—ancient, thin, and unstable—rising from the earth before vanishing again like a breath exhaled too quickly.
His chest tightened.
It's early.
Earlier than last time.
Before he could react, translucent text appeared in his vision.
⸻
System Notice
Observation Only.
No absorption permitted.
Stability Phase in progress.
Environmental energy fluctuations detected.
⸻
Rian exhaled slowly.
No rewards.
No upgrades.
No shortcuts.
Just confirmation.
"The timeline's already diverging," he said quietly.
⸻
The First Global Sign
It happened just after noon.
The sky shimmered.
For most people, it lasted barely three seconds—long enough to notice, not long enough to understand. A faint distortion rippled across the clouds, like light bending through water. Colors shifted unnaturally, then snapped back into place.
Some people thought it was a trick of the sun.
Others blamed weather satellites.
A few pulled out their phones, only to find their cameras glitching.
Rian stared upward, expression hard.
Last time... this didn't happen yet.
His phone buzzed.
Emergency Alert System
This is a test of the national emergency broadcast—
The message cut off halfway through.
Silence followed.
⸻
The Countdown Changes
Rian didn't move.
The system interface appeared again, sharper this time.
⸻
Apocalypse Parameters Updated
Environmental synchronization accelerating.
Apocalypse Initiation: Adjusted.
Time Remaining: 72 Hours
⸻
His jaw tightened.
"Three days," he said.
Not a question.
A fact.
The world hadn't ended yet—but it had crossed a line it couldn't step back over.
People around him argued. Panicked. Laughed nervously. Pretended everything was fine.
Rian turned and walked home.
He didn't need to run.
Not yet.
The first crack had appeared.
And this time, he was ready to watch the world break—one second at a time.