Just call me Alexander Dimple. Sixteen years old. My whole life ahead of me. And yet, I knew what my progression would be, and what my ultimate goal was. Some of my cousins might not have been quite as ambivalent, trapped in a cycle of self-hatred for being born into wealth, but I was like the others. Content. I would live and die within my family, doing things for the patriarch, my grandpa, living in one of the many compounds, attending the countless parties, having my own children, and perpetuating our simple existences. Even though the title of "patriarch" and all the responsibilities of managing our dynasty’s wealth would eventually pass to Uncle Zeke, who despised me, I would at the very least be able to live in one of the family compounds, even if I’d be completely barred from climbing the ranks like my mom. Who could have predicted a system would come, wiping out all our advanced technology and unleashing monsters in cities across the world? And there I was, caught all alone, on a yacht, far, far away from anyone I knew. Slight twist on traditional Litrpg.