Beneath the pitch-black night sky, a sudden "rumbling" sound echoed.

On the iron bridge spanning the river, a dark train moved forward, passing over the bridge.

On top of the train, Liven swung his knife against the wind, surrounded by five people who had encircled him.

Liven flicked his knife, shaking off the sticky blood, and said, "It seems you're determined to kill me."

"Perhaps..." someone sneered twice, "if you hand over the X serum, we might just break your limbs."

Liven raised an eyebrow. In this apocalyptic world, what difference was there between being crippled and being dead?

He took a deep breath and said, "If it weren't for me, you all would have died long ago. And now, for a bottle of serum, you betray me?"

Another person chimed in, "Blame this damned world. If killing you means we live longer, then..."

Suddenly, the five of them lunged at Liven.

"You die!"

...

"Ah!"

Liven abruptly sat up, his face pale, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his clothes soaked with sweat.

After a moment, he looked around. The white walls, aged and worn, bore many mottled marks.

The room was simply furnished: a single bed, an old computer desk, and a wooden chair riddled with nails, clearly repaired multiple times.

Most importantly, this room was exactly as he remembered home of many years.

"Was it all a dream?"

Liven got out of bed and pulled open the curtains.

Outside, a street faced him. Though not bustling, it was lively and peaceful, the world serene and harmonious.

"No, no, this world is wrong..." Liven murmured to himself. "This world should have been destroyed, everything in ruins. Unless... this is also a dream?"

In Liven's memory, the world's civilization had long since collapsed. Humans died endlessly, turning into walking corpses. Monsters of all kinds roamed freely, and even terrifying ancient species had suddenly come back to life.

Everything felt wrong.

He clearly remembered his last memory: in the desert, those damned bastards—once called comrades—had ambushed him for the X serum, chased him for three days and nights, and ultimately left him to die of exhaustion.

Liven's gaze involuntarily shifted to the computer desk, landing on the calendar placed there.

SIsss!

He sucked in a sharp breath. The date on the calendar was...

December 25, 2125!

To others, this date might mean nothing, but Liven knew exactly what it signified.

Six days remained until January 1, 2126.

Which meant...

Six days until the end of the world!

"Did I go back three years? To before the apocalypse began?" Liven murmured again. "How is this possible?"

Suddenly, a flash of memory crossed his mind.

In a wilderness, dry grass swayed in the wind. Pale-skinned zombies staggered along a road. Beside the road was a gas station, and next to the station's convenience store stood a gachapon machine.

Liven approached the machine, inserted a coin, and received a capsule. Inside was no item, just a slip of paper that read: "Try again!"

"Is this the reason I was reborn?" Liven raised an eyebrow, then clenched his fist. "Whether it is or not, since I've been given a second chance, even if the world ends again, I have the confidence to survive."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

No one would kill him a second time!

Liven walked to the calendar and circled December 31. At midnight on the 31st, as the clock struck January 1, the world would descend into apocalypse.

He had six days to prepare.

What comes to mind when thinking of the apocalypse? The first thought is naturally water and food, as having enough supplies is essential for survival.

But Liven knew well that no matter how much water and food he stockpiled, it would eventually run out. Moreover, he knew of the existence of the Death Train. If one was strong enough, they could obtain everything on that train—water, food, and even the right to survive.

Thus, Liven knew that what he needed now was weapons.

When it came to weapons, guns naturally came to mind first. After all, in an era of firearms, guns were undoubtedly the most convenient and effective way to boost combat power.

Unfortunately, guns weren't something you could just acquire easily, especially with only six days left before the apocalypse. Time was incredibly tight.

Given the circumstances, Liven had to resort to alternative methods. After connecting to the internet, he first purchased a nail gun. With some modifications, it could still pack a punch.

Next was a recurve bow. This fell under sports equipment and could be bought, though the real challenge was the arrows. After purchasing them, he'd need to sharpen the tips himself to make them lethal rather than just for target practice.

He also couldn't overlook protective gear like stab-proof vests, riot shields, portable waist packs, and tactical gloves. Additionally, Liven planned to visit a cutlery and crafts store.

Bladed weapons were regulated and couldn't be sold online, but they could be found in craft stores—albeit unsharpened. Liven could buy them and sharpen them himself.

Liven spent three days preparing these items. The remaining three days were dedicated to intense physical training.

He realized that while his three years of survival experience and knowledge from the apocalyptic world remained, his body had reverted to its state from three years ago. All the serums he had taken to enhance his body were now ineffective.

On the Death Train, humans were ranked based on their strength into seven levels: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Star Diamond, Sovereign King, and Transcendent. Each level had five stars.

In his previous life, Liven had reached the peak of the five-star Sovereign King level, just one step away from Transcendent.

Yet, in the end, he was betrayed by those he once trusted, and all his efforts were in vain.

Now, although Liven had been reborn, everything from his past seemed erased. His skills, his tools, even his enhanced body had reverted to its original state. He wasn't even at the Bronze level anymore—he was just an ordinary college graduate.

Three days of training might not yield significant improvements, but for Liven, every second counted as the apocalypse loomed.

If he could board the Death Train again as he had before, he could complete tasks and exchange for serums and tools to enhance his body.

"Of course!" Liven clenched his fist, doing push-ups in his room. "The prerequisite is that I must board the Death Train again!"

That would be his only hope after the apocalypse.

Or perhaps...

His final doom!