When I heard the sound of the skill evolving after having it be useless for so many years, I just laughed maniacally. Truth to be told, it came out more of a shattered gurgle.

Then, seconds after, I died.

Or at least I thought so.

One-Time Effect, “Atlas’s Responsibility” - Conditions Fulfilled

There was no fanfare, no colorful visions, no floating darkness. One moment I was dead, the other, I was suddenly standing in a vaguely familiar apartment.

System? It was my first thought, but nothing appeared in front of me. It’s not...

A man was shouting incoherently at me, using a beer bottle the way a priest would have wielded a bible above the pews. My heart ran to my throat, my eyes widened beyond what their muscles should have allowed.

In front of me, Luke Leone stood drunk as a he had ever been. He was saying something about me stealing money from his wallet or something of the kind.

I wasn’t really listening.

Twenty years later, my dead father was in front of me again.

Without waiting for him to say another word, I just stepped forward and hugged the shit out of him. The middle-aged man with an airport runway on top of his head - the same balding problems I had feared before the apocalypse struck - was speechless.

“What the hell are you doing, have you become a f—”

I released the hug and smiled at my father, my hands over his shoulders. I looked around the apartment in amazement, stunned that something like this could be happening… or at least that it could be happening to me. There had been many valiant heroes making the last stand for humanity—and they had been almost successful. Not that ‘almost’ was a valid measurement of survival.

“What day is it?” I asked my dad, looking outside our Brooklyn apartment.

My father, in reply, swatted my arms away, outraged, and raised a backhand to strike me. Hero, myself, I had never been; but this man had just telegraphed a slap I could have dodged while asleep. I ducked my head gently, letting my father graze the top of my black hair, and then I took a step back.

“You little shit, what the hell is wrong with you?” The man asked again, confused.

I palmed my jeans, suddenly remembering that I should have a phone if I was where I thought I was. Well, not where, but when.

June 9th, 2023, 11:21 AM

I looked at the phone with a smile. My father, however, was still reeling from my strange behavior.

“You don’t disrespect your father—” He came forward again, raising his fist, but this time he was interrupted by a knock from the slightly open door.

Stolen story; please report.

“Hello, Mr. Leone?”

This time, my heart stopped.

“Olivia,” my father mumbled, his hand still raised.

The latina gave him a long stare and then frowned at me, “hey Shane, you haven’t been around much. How’s the comedy world?”

Right, I thought to myself. When the apocalypse had struck I had tried becoming a stand-up comedian.

“I’ve switched profession, actually,” I said.

Olivia had clearly been ready to acknowledge whatever she had expected I’d say before moving onto business, but my reply left her floored.

Not much more than me, to be honest.

I was back.

This…

This was the day the apocalypse had first started.

And now I had gotten a second chance…

Wait.

Why me?

The thought immediately paralyzed me and made me deaf to whatever follow-up question Olivia had just asked. My ears ringed and my lung constricted as I realized that out of all the heroes that had been killed, I had been brought back.

I need to check on my Master, I immediately thought. Maybe I’m not the only one who came back.

But my trail of thought was interrupted by two golden hoops shining in my eyes, “Shane! Are you there?! I’m talking to you?! Jesus, are you on drugs?!”

“Yeah—wait, what? No. I’m not. Sorry, I—”

“Forget about it,” Olivia pulled back with a frown, a whiff of her perfume coming at me.

“Ollie, I—”

“The rent, Shane. And don’t call me Ollie. You’re three months late.”

“I’ll get your father the rent,” Luke said, wobbly and slurring his words. “Tell Carlos I’ve got it covered.”

Olivia looked at my father for a second before lowering her voice and talking to me, “Shane, money’s tight. We got works to do on the other apartments. Get a real job and make rent. I can only cover you so much with my father.”

Then, switching to a smile, she spoke to my father, “Uncle Luke, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. Drink some water.”\

“Heh, whatever,” Luke shrugged. “Tell Carlos I’m good for the money! He knows!”

Olivia gave a last look at me before shutting the door behind her.

“You’re useless,” my father suddenly said in his drunken voice, “she liked you. You can’t do shit.”

I looked back at him, going back to his armchair and turning the TV on the news channel.

…

Luke Leone, my father, had lost his job at the dock about five years ago. He had just ran out of the money that the government had given the laid off personnel after a start-up had managed to get computers to do my father’s job.

That and his wife’s cancer had done him in. He was the shadow of the veteran who had fought in Iraq and held a good-paying job at the dock immediately after. I had always been curious to know why my father didn’t receive any money from the military, but the man had never been emotionally forthcoming. By the time he had died in the apocalypse, I don’t know I spoke more than one minute with my father about our lives, our dreams, or what we had gone through.

He just wasn’t built like that.

Pocketing the apartment’s keys and the bike’s, I made my way down the stairs, thinking of Olivia, of my father’s, and, most importantly, the world.

Someone needs to… save the world.

But I knew that someone wasn’t going to be me.

My talent had never been great. I could fight, sure, but just because twenty years after the start of the apocalypse, all those who had been alive when it had started had already gained many levels. Compared to the real grandmasters, however, I had been nothing. I wasn’t even average.

“I need to find Hiro,” I muttered to myself.

Hiro Takehiko.

I need him to save the world.

…

I looked at my phone as I waited in front of the downtown building where Hiro held Kendo classes. There was no one in sight. I checked the hours again—there was supposed to be a class in around an hour.

Fuck, I thought. The apocalypse is going to come sooner than that. And they…

Suddenly, I saw an older Japanese man walk with his hands behind his back as he peacefully approached me on the curb.

“Hello, are you here for Kendo lessons?” Hiro smiled at me.

A wide smile appeared on my face.

“Hello sensei, I’m here to save the world.”