Run. Run. Run. Don’t stop. Keep going.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in Joe’s mind as he barreled through the city, shrouded in suffocating white smoke. It looked similar to mist—but its blistering heat was more akin to standing in the maw of an industrial oven.

Joe’s lungs burned as if they were filled with molten lava. Each breath clawed at his chest, and the acrid smoke coiled around his heart like a vice. He coughed violently, the sound tearing from his throat as his body fought desperately for air.

But he couldn’t breathe.

His legs faltered, and he stumbled to a halt, doubling over with his hands clutching his knees. The world blurred around him as ash seeped into his eyes, stinging and blinding.

Above, the sky cracked open with a thunderous roar, a terrifying symphony of chaos. Flames hissed and snapped, their relentless roar drowning out all other sounds. It was impossible to distinguish the layers of destruction—every noise merged into an overwhelming cacophony.

Pain. Heat. Exhaustion. They pressed down on him, a crushing weight threatening to drag him to the ground.

But Joe clenched his fists and forced himself upright. This wasn’t about him. His agony was secondary. Only one thing mattered: Chloe. He had to find her, no matter the cost.

Steeling himself, he prepared to run again, but a frail grip caught his ankle. Startled, Joe whipped around.

On the ground lay a bleeding old man, his trembling hand clutching Joe’s leg. Blood poured from his stomach and mouth, pooling beneath him. His charred skin looked as though it would flake away at the slightest touch.

“Help me... kid,” the man rasped, each word a monumental effort. His voice cracked, barely audible over the roaring chaos.

Joe’s eyes widened in horror. Without hesitation, he yanked his leg free and bolted.

There’s no helping it. He’s going to die anyway. If I carry him, we’ll both suffocate. His time is up. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.

The words churned in his head, repeating until they became a twisted mantra of self-preservation.

Joe’s feet splashed against a wet surface. The air carried a sickening stench that coiled around his senses—the reek of death. Blood flowed in streams along the ground, and dismembered corpses littered his path.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

He drilled the command into his mind. His ash-filled eyes made it easier to obey, but the crunch of unrecognizable body parts beneath his shoes nearly broke him. Still, he pushed forward.

Chloe came first.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stumbled out of the suffocating smoke. But the reprieve came too late. Joe’s body was a wreck—his lungs wheezed, his legs shook, and his vision blurred.

He raised his head to survey the devastation. What he saw made his knees buckle.

The city was unrecognizable. Skyscrapers lay toppled like discarded toys, their skeletal remains ablaze. The streets were fractured with massive chasms, gaping wounds in the earth. Cars were mangled beyond recognition, their twisted frames stacked like debris from a child's tantrum.

The dead were everywhere. Bodies piled on bodies, while survivors roamed aimlessly, their faces painted with despair.

A piercing scream snapped Joe’s attention to a nearby scene. A man held a gun to his temple, tears streaming down his face. A young girl tugged the left leg of his pants, her cries heart-wrenching.

“Daddy! Daddy, stop it!”

Boom!

The gunshot echoed, and Joe’s stomach churned. A fleeting glance showed the man crumpled to the ground, his daughter frozen in shock, covered in blood. Joe turned away, bile rising in his throat.

He thought about going to comfort the little girl for a second. But what was he going to say? How could he possibly comfort her In this situation? The answer was simple. Don't say anything, just keep going. Someone else will probably rescue her, probably.

“Joe!”

The desperate cry cut through his spiraling thoughts. He froze. That voice...

“Chloe!” Joe shouted, his hoarse voice cracking as he bolted toward the sound.

“Joe!” Her voice was weaker now, barely audible.

He surged forward, shoving aside anyone in his path, leaping over debris and dodging cracks in the ground. His heart pounded as he finally spotted her.

And it shattered.

Chloe lay sprawled on the ground, her golden hair matted with blood. Her wheelchair was overturned, its wheels spinning uselessly. A massive chunk of metal had crushed her legs, pinning her in place. Blood pooled beneath her fragile frame as her trembling hand reached out.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Joe...” she whimpered, tears streaming down her pale face.

“Chloe!”

Joe’s voice broke, raw with anguish. His body screamed in protest as he dragged himself toward her, inch by inch. His fingertips grazed hers.

Then, the world went white.

A searing light descended from the sky, consuming everything in an instant. Faster than a heartbeat, it touched the earth.

And just like that, everything was gone.

[Wake Up, Outsider.]

A foreign voice pierced Joe’s consciousness, dragging him from the void. His body stirred, and his eyes fluttered open, only to be met with an intense, blinding light. He squinted, shielding his face until his vision adjusted to the brightness.

When he finally opened his eyes fully, a pristine blue sky stretched above him. The warm rays of the sun bathed his body in a gentle embrace. For a moment, he was captivated, but a sharp pain throbbed in his head, forcing him to clutch his temples. The pain faded almost as quickly as it came.

Joe sat up slowly, feeling an unfamiliar tightness around his body. His eyes darted down to inspect himself. Black leather encased him from head to toe.

He was clad in sleek, ankle-high boots that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Tight leather pants hugged his thighs, secured with a utility belt and pockets stitched at precise intervals. A loose yet sturdy jacket hung from his shoulders, offering enough room for a black vest that snugly fit beneath it.

Joe's hands roamed over his outfit in disbelief. It felt real. Too real. The breeze tousled his messy black hair, which contrasted sharply with his pale skin and piercing blue eyes. The outfit seemed almost tailored to emphasize his features.

One moment he was sprinting through hell to save his sister—Chloe. The next, he was here. This serene, dreamlike place. His mind buzzed with questions, each more urgent than the last.

Joe scanned his surroundings frantically. Lush green grass sprawled in every direction, dotted with vibrant flowers that painted the landscape like an artist's masterpiece. A few towering trees loomed in the distance, their dark trunks casting long shadows. The air was rich and crisp, carrying the sweet scent of honey.

Everything was quiet.

The voice. He remembered hearing it when he woke up. Where was it? His eyes darted in every direction, his breathing quickening—until, without warning, a glowing blue screen materialized before him.

[I See You're Awake, Outsider.]

Joe recoiled, stifling a shriek as he scrambled backward. The words on the screen pulsed in bold white letters, perfectly synchronized with the robotic voice emanating from it.

His heart pounded as he stared, wide-eyed. What was this thing?

To confirm he wasn’t hallucinating, Joe rubbed his eyes furiously. Yet the screen remained, unmoving and luminescent. Even as he attempted to distance himself, it stubbornly hovered in front of him.

“What in the world are you?” he blurted out, his voice shaky after a long stretch of silence.

[My Name Is System-558942379, But You Can Call Me Syr For Short.]

“Syr? That’s a weird name,” Joe muttered. “Since your full name has numbers in it, I’m guessing you’re a robot?”

[I’m Not. I’m A Guide. I Was Assigned By God Asura To Help You Survive Out Here.]

“God Asura? Are you saying you were sent here by a real-life god?”

[Yes. You Didn’t Know? You Outsiders Always Surprise Me With How Clueless You Are. Rebecca Was Probably The Only One Who Actually Seemed Smart. Anyway, I Was Given An Assignment By God Asura, One Of The Great Primeval Gods That Govern The Universes. He Tasked Me With A Simple Mission: To Make Sure You Don’t Die, So You Can Reach Your Full Potential As An Outsider.]

“Primeval gods? Universes? Outsider?” Joe's voice rose in pitch. “Slow down, man! I have no clue what you’re talking about. Why in the world would I die?”

[Grisha Is A Dangerous Planet. It Has Remained Unconquered For Thousands Of Years. It’s One Of The Few Free Planets To Survive This Long Without A Primeval God.]

“I’m sorry—Grisha? What are you talking about? Isn’t this Earth?”

[Earth Was Deleted. Everything On That Planet Was Destroyed.]

Joe’s nearly heart stopped.

It wasn’t a dream. The blinding light he saw... was that truly earth's destruction? But if that was the case—shouldn't he be dead already?

“You’re lying!” Joe shot to his feet, fists clenched. “You’re lying!”

[I’m Telling You The Truth. Earth Is Gone.]

“Get out of my head! Get out of my head!” Joe staggered forward, gripping his head with trembling hands. His voice cracked as panic overwhelmed him. “I’ll find Chloe... I just have to find a road. Someone must’ve dropped me here as part of some sick prank!”

[If You Keep Going In That Direction, You’ll Be In Trouble.]

“Shut up! Damn it, just go away!”

Joe stomped toward a forest in the distance, ignoring Syr’s warnings.

For a brief moment, silence returned, and Joe was alone. He clung to that fragile silence, burying Syr’s words deep in his mind. He refused to accept them.

The forest loomed ahead, its colossal black trees twisting skyward. Their dark leaves swayed in the wind, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

[You Have Entered The Black Forest.]

Black Forest? As in Germany? Relief began to bloom in Joe’s chest.

[You Have Entered A Sub-Dungeon.]

[Dungeon Grade: D]

Joe froze.

“What the... Dungeon?” he whispered.

[Main Quest.]

• Objective: Slay The Dungeon Boss, 'The Great Wolfin.'

• Reward: 15,000 Rank Points.

• Failure: Death.

“What is this? Syr, answer me!” panic slowly settled within him, and Syr's silence added to the feeling of uncertainty in his heart.

Joe stepped cautiously into the forest’s shadowed depths. The towering trees swallowed him whole. His heart raced as the silence pressed against his ears.

“It’s just a forest,” he whispered to himself. “The Black Forest is a tourist attraction. I’ll find people soon. Stay calm, Joe. You can do this.”

A loud snap echoed through the air as Joe stepped on a twig. He leaped back, his pulse spiking.

“Get a grip, man! You’re nineteen, not some scared little kid!”

He tried to steady himself, but then he saw them—crimson eyes glowing in the shadows, watching him.

Joe’s throat tightened. “W-What t-the hell is that?”

Heavy footsteps shook the ground as the creature emerged. Its massive paws pressed into the dirt, leaving deep prints. Drool dripped from its jagged, yellowed teeth, and its grey fur blended seamlessly with the shadows.

It was massive—easily five times Joe’s size.

[A Rank 4 ‘Small Wolfin’ Has Appeared.]

Small? That was small?

Joe’s legs quaked as the creature licked its lips.

[Sub - Quest.]

• Objective: Slay 5 Wolfins

• Reward: 5,000 Rank Points.

• Progress: 0/5 Wolfins Slain

Terror rooted Joe in place. His mind screamed the question he dared not voice.

Was this really Germany?

And more importantly... was he going to die?