2.

The blare of his alarm clock startled Santi out of the vivid dreams he had been enduring. His hand automatically rose to paw at the insufferable alarm and its piercing cry. Santi groaned as the alarm turned off, rubbing at his eyes as he debated just staying in his warm bed. His foggy brain was slowly growing clear as he took in where he was.

Plain white walls with shitty posters. A second bed across from him that looked undisturbed. The faintest smell of mildew and unwashed socks.His college dorm room, which hadn’t existed for over seven years.

Santiago bolted straight up and out of the bed, the blankets falling in a tangle to the ground. Wild-eyed, he whirled around taking in the small room and his eternally missing roommate Paulie. Except, Paulie was dead and had been dead for years. This whole dorm burned down in the opening days of the System’s arrival.

“What the fuck is going on?” Santiago whispered to himself as he slowly sat back down on his bed. The last thing he remembered was the fight, being propelled into the ritual circle. Then… no, better not think about That. Santiago forced his mind off of the Patron and forced himself to be rational. He thought about it, thought some more, and then came to his conclusion.

“I’m the fucking Terminator,” Santiago groaned as he fell back in his bed. He shook his head staring up at the ceiling. It made sense. The Fallen were losing, why not throw a Hail Mary. Gather up all your supporters, use your patron’s power, and go back in time. Go back before the war started, while your enemies were unaware they were the enemy. Win the war before it even began.

“They’re going to kill all the Champions before they become Champions. Ughh, I hate time travel. Stupid fucking paradoxes. This is going to be so full of plot holes, I swear,” Santiago grumbled as he stood up and grabbed his phone. Checking the date, April 13th, he had two days before the System arrived. The System’s arrival was going to be a disaster, millions would die. Including his younger sister and parents. His older sister, Bianca, would survive the initial wave, but fall in one of the early battles with the Fallen.

“Not letting that shit happen again, obviously,” Santi said to the empty room as he grabbed a pad of paper and pencil. It had always helped him figure things out if he could actually see them. In big letters, on the very top of the page, he wrote ‘Save my Family’. Then started to list what he would need.

If he only had two days, he would have to move fast. He debated for a moment leaving the area and racing to his family, to try to save them. If he left, he would lose all of his advantages though. He had stayed for six months in this area, just fighting to survive. Bianca had come to find him, traveling the distance with a convoy headed toward the pillar.

“Shit, the pillar,” Santi moaned in horror. Old memories were beginning to surface, memories he would prefer to stay buried. He started jotting down what he needed, ignoring the urge to find his family and hold them forever. Six of the Seven had made it back and they would be going all out from the get go. He needed to focus if he wanted to win.

He paused, pencil frozen over the paper. Santi had done alright in the initial burst of the System’s arrival. He had managed to become a Disciple after all. His potential had run out though, he had hit the wall late, but still hit it. That didn’t need to be the case this time. He leaned back for a moment and started to imagine what it would be like if he accrued the power needed. The college was rich with opportunity and danger and many had risen up, taking it. Eventually. Could Santi grab it all, or most of it anyway?

The thought danced around his mind. There were titles he never had the chance to earn. Titles he knew he could earn this time. Treasures and limited dungeons that had been taken by others who had died later, failing to use them to their potential. Six months, for six months he had stayed on campus and knew every inch of it during the systems coming.

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Sanit started to write faster. A list of not what he needed, but opportunities that could be his for the taking. Dungeons, titles, natural treasures, and more. He could gather the momentum needed to hit Champion tier faster than anyone else had. The Apostates would be doing it too, obviously they would have planned this out before the ritual. They had plans, and plans in case those plans didn’t work.

Santi knew only one of them, and she knew him. She was on the other side of the country currently and he didn’t need to worry about her yet. One of the others could be close by though. That led him down to write another list, this a group of names and where they were when the system hit. The Champions and heroes of humanity. The ones the Apostates would definitely be looking to kill.

A stroke of genius hit him as he finished what he thought was the list of what he remembered. He started to write a second list of the dead Champions. The early ones who had died in the war and during the challenges and incursions. His head hurt. There was so much to do. He looked at his phone, perched on the edge of his bed.

The system's arrival would kill most technology. Guns, cars, electricity, and cell-phones. Even batteries would struggle before finally falling to the wayside. These things he needed to take into account. But, what if he got ahold of some of them now? The miracle that was social media. He would seem like a mad man, sending messages to people to be ready for the apocalypse and beware of strangers. He still had to do it.

It took him hours to find most of them. An eccentric mix that tended to trend young. He sent them a fairly bland message that he hoped they would be a little receptive of. Then he scrolled for a bit, enjoying the creature comforts of a civilized age. There was something inherently pleasing about just being able to scroll mindlessly.

“Fuck, this is why I’m failing my classes,” Santi muttered as he stood up and looked at his five page list.The loss of his stats was beginning to sink in. He had become so accustomed to his increased intelligence and willpower, that his sudden desire to just lay down and procrastinate was disturbing. He checked his phone again and looked at his bank account and the money sitting in it. Student housing, a grant, and some money from working through the summer. Less than ten grand to save the world. Or, at least, this corner of it.

Santi scrolled through his contact list before he found Tank’s name. The other boy lived across the hall. A large, strong, walking wall of muscle. He died holding back the monsters as they ran down the hall slaughtering half asleep students. He died a hero's death. Santi was determined to see the big guy make it out, he deserved a chance at life. He had given Santi the chance after all. Tank answered on the second ring.

“Sup, Santi,” Tank’s voice was a deep and calm baritone.

“Hey, listen, can I borrow your truck?” Santi was going to buy a lot of shit. The extra space would be mission critical.

“Yeah man. You have to fill her up though.” Santi smiled at Tank’s words. Always willing to help out, to lend a hand. He might grumble about it later, but he would do it.

“Of course, I’m not a dick,” Santi said with a laugh. Tears were starting to trickle down his face as the moment hit him. He could save his friends and family. It could be stopped. He wouldn’t have to be alone again.

“You good, Santi, I just tell everyone. I think people like the truck more than me, always asking to borrow it,” Tank laughed, deep booming chuckles.

“Nah, man, they love you too. I’ll swing by in like, I don’t know, an hour?” Santi was struggling to fight the sobs welling up. The emotional weight was settling in, hearing Tank’s voice the catalyst.

“You good, man? Sounds like you’re crying?” Tank sounded concerned, his voice softened instantly. Santi felt the urge to tell him, to spill all of the secrets the future held. The weight was suddenly unbearable. He needed to get off the phone, needed to sit down and just stare at a wall and not think for a few minutes.

“Stubbed my toe, shit hurts. See ya in a few.” Santi hung up on Tank and sank into his bed. It had been so long since he had been safe, even with the apocalypse coming in a few days. Right now, he was safe. He started to cry as nearly a decade of stress and fear caught up to him.