Noah opened his eyes to white walls, sunlight spilling across a small, sparsely furnished apartment.
No blood. No fire. No monsters.
He lay for a moment, letting the reality sink in.
He sat up slowly, chest tight. "Not yet…" he whispered.
For the first time, he realized the apocalypse could be rewritten. Every screaming street, every betrayal, every death—he remembered it all with perfect clarity. Lena's terrified face as she ran alone through the first wave of chaos. Mason's desperation, trying to save others while abandoning himself. The others, too many to count, all dead because of his mistakes. Every loss, every failed decision, every miscalculation.
It had all been his fault.
Noah swung his legs off the bed and stood. The wooden floor felt cold under his bare feet. The apartment looked exactly as it had before—ordinary, quiet, calm—but he knew better.
He walked to the window and looked down the street. People passed, laughing, arguing, oblivious. Cars idled at intersections, honking at impatient drivers. Shops displayed fresh produce, their bright colors unspoiled. The world was alive and unbroken
Noah turned back to his small desk and opened the drawer beneath it. From under a pile of papers, he pulled out a notebook, worn and fraying at the edges. The pages were filled with scribbles, calculations, warnings he had written in a previous life—plans, names, maps, lists of supplies, and schedules. Every note was a reminder of what had gone wrong.
He flipped to the last page. The handwriting was frantic, messy. He barely recognized his own script: " Move fast. Prepare everything and then Survive."
Noah sat down at the desk, tracing the words with his finger. His mind raced as he made a new plan—one that would correct all the mistakes of his first life.
***
Step one: stock up on essentials before the collapse.
Step two: identify who could be trusted and who couldn't.
Step three: train, every day, better and faster than before.
He exhaled slowly, letting the plan solidify in his mind. Supplies alone wouldn't save him this time. He needed knowledge, allies, strategy, and patience. Every decision had to be deliberate. Every action precise.
His thoughts drifted to Lena Park. In his first life, she had died helplessly in the streets, caught in chaos she couldn't fight. This time, she would survive. He would make sure of it.
Mason Grant came next in his mind—a practical, reliable man who had always been overlooked. Mason had died alone before, betrayed by circumstances and luck. Not this time. Mason would fight, he would live, and he would be indispensable.
And then there was Victor Kane. Noah's old rival. Charismatic, dangerous, always a step ahead. He could charm anyone, manipulate any situation, and exploit the smallest weakness. In his previous life, Noah had underestimated him—fatal mistake. Not again. Noah clenched his fists, feeling the determination harden in his chest. He wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Not with Victor, not with anyone.
The sunlight shifted across the floor. But Noah felt the storm gathering outside, in the city, in the streets, in the very air itself. The first signs of chaos were not visible yet—
Noah rose and began pacing. He catalogued everything he remembered: which areas would become dangerous first, which factions would rise to power, which monsters would appear when. He thought about supplies—food, water, weapons, medical kits—and started a mental map of where he could get them without drawing attention.
He moved to the small kitchen and checked the pantry, imagining what would last and what wouldn't. Cans of beans, bottles of water, protein bars—all useless unless he knew how to ration them and protect them.
Next, training. Not with swords or guns just yet—he needed to strengthen his body, his reflexes, his endurance. His first life had taught him that brute strength alone was never enough. He needed agility, foresight, and mental fortitude. Every day would count. Every mistake would cost someone's life.
Noah thought about the city outside again. The buildings that looked safe now would become death traps. Cars would be abandoned. Shops would be looted. And among the chaos, people would betray each other for food, for weapons, for survival. He had seen it all once. He would not let it happen again.
He grabbed his jacket, checking its pockets for tools and small weapons—nothing fancy yet, but enough to survive. He needed mobility, speed, and discretion. Then he looked around his apartment once more, as if saying goodbye to a life he had already lived.
Five years. That was all the time he had. Five years to prepare, five years to correct every mistake, five years to save the people who mattered. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders, but he welcomed it. For the first time, he felt a sense of control—a power he had never had before.
Noah stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. The hallway smelled faintly of old carpet, and the air was thick with city life. He descended the stairs carefully, noting every creak, every shadow. Too many times in his first life, he had ignored small details that had cost lives. Not this time.
A little girl ran past him with her father, laughing. A stray dog trotted across the road. People argued over petty things, completely oblivious to the storm approaching.
Noah walked to the edge of the street, scanning his surroundings with sharp, calculating eyes. He began to memorize every alley, every exit, every safe place he could use if chaos arrived tomorrow. He pictured scenarios: a sudden monster attack, a rival gang, a collapsing building. Every potential threat was logged in his mind, cataloged, and assigned a countermeasure.
He allowed himself one small smile. The first life had ended in failure, but the second life would be different. He would rise before the fall. He would survive. And those who had died before—Lena, Mason, even the innocents caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—would have a chance.
Noah Reed had been given a second chance. And he would not waste it.
The sun rose higher, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. Noah walked forward, confident, precise, and ready. The world would not know him yet, but when the storm came, he would be the one bending it to his will.