Long before the real chaos began, Earth was peaceful.
Not perfect — people struggled, argued, worked late, and loved deeply — but it was still a livable world. Cities were loud, nights were warm, and tomorrow was predictable.
Then the sky changed.
Without warning, the horizon cracked like broken glass.
Five different worlds overlapped with Earth's space. Mountains appeared where seas once were. Forests grew overnight across highways. Creatures that had never existed began to walk, crawl, and hunt.
The merging didn't just bring monsters. It brought a disease.
Void Spore Syndrome. People called it VSS.
Animals infected by the spores twisted into abyss beasts. Plants grew teeth. Birds hunted in packs. Entire towns vanished in days. Governments collapsed. Panic became normal.
Humanity fell to the bottom of the food chain.
Just when extinction felt certain, a goddess from beyond the merged worlds intervened. She formed a grand alliance with Earth and deployed a system across the planet.
Skills.
Levels.
Status windows.
The Player Era began. Ten percent of humanity awakened powers. Some gained strength, some gained strange abilities, some gained support skills.
Together with allied races from the merged worlds, they started pushing back the monsters — slowly reclaiming pieces of the world.
The war for survival never stopped.
Peace became a rumor.
—
A convenience store door slid open with a soft chime.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed quietly.
A teenage boy stood behind the counter with a bored expression. Black-blue hair fell over calm blue eyes. His name tag hung crooked on his chest. He scanned items one by one.
"Total is 18.50, copper coin" he said in a flat voice.
The customer frowned. "Why is it more expensive again? Every week prices go up. Are you people robbing us?"
The boy didn't react. His tone stayed polite and empty. "Prices are set by management. How would you like to pay?"
The customer clicked his tongue, threw the money down, and walked out while complaining loudly.
The boy watched the door close. He let out a slow breath.
(This world is really terrible.)
His eyes narrowed slightly.
(And I'm even worse. I transmigrated into this broken game world and still ended up working part-time at a store.)
He scanned the empty shop. No monsters. No players. Just discount noodles and expired milk.
"…What a legendary start to a second life."
Night grew deeper. The convenience store lights hummed softly on the empty street.
The back door opened, and a young woman stepped inside. She had the same black-blue hair as the boy, but her eyes were calm gray — tired, yet warm.
"Thanks for covering the shift," she said gently.
Sable looked up. His expression softened a little. "It's fine. Someone had to pick Celi up from school."
Behind her, a small girl peeked out — four years old, round cheeks, messy hair, bright sleepy eyes. She lifted both arms and wobbled forward.
"Bwowther… hug."
Sable sighed — but his arms moved first. He lifted her easily.
"You're heavy," he said.
"I'm not!" she protested proudly.
Their mother laughed quietly.
Sable nodded toward the back room. "Go change and rest. I'll handle the stock check and closing."
She hesitated. "You already worked all day—"
"I'm young," Sable replied. "You're not, and you have other work besides this."
She clicked her tongue at him and went inside. Sable turned back to the shelves, scanning inventory with a handheld pad.
His face stayed calm.
His thoughts didn't.
(It's been six days since I possessed this body.)
(A background extra from a TRPG game — Last Night End. No name value. No plot armor. Just a tragedy package included.)
He stacked drink cans neatly.
"This body's father was an A-rank Player. Died on a mission when the Player Era started. Single mother. Cute little sister. Debt. Risk-zone housing."
"Classic doomed side-character setup. But living is still living, I guess."
He paused. "Too classic for my taste."
The little sister suddenly jumped from the side — a blind-angle attack.
He caught her without looking. "Illegal ambush. I'm calling the police," he said.
She giggled like she had won a war.
Their mother returned and checked the register and shelves — the small store they built together with savings and insurance money.
"Everything looks good," she said softly.
"Of course," Sable answered. "I'm a professional minimum-wage worker. Where did you find a genius employee like me?"
She flicked his forehead.
—
A few minutes later, the store lights shut off.
Behind the building stood a narrow two-story house — old, repaired many times, still standing out of stubbornness.
Sable sat in his small upstairs room with a mug of cheap coffee.
Outside the window, the city looked wrong.
A massive wall cut across the horizon, blocking half the skyline. Above it, an invisible barrier shimmered like glass under moonlight. Sometimes it flickered with system light.
Three moons hung overhead — red, pale blue, and silver.
He stared quietly. "No matter what anyone does, that wall falls in the future. When it falls, the city becomes a monster farm."
His grip tightened on the mug.
"Kidnappings. Illegal experiments. Player harvesting. Skill extraction labs. Auction markets."
He exhaled slowly. "And I can't stop any of it right now. Even if I awaken, my original skill is trash-tier support."
Silence filled the room.
"Well," he muttered, "knowing the future and still being poor is very insulting."
He leaned back.
"Goal first — money. Move the family to a safe zone. Fortified district. Barrier coverage. No monster attacks. A normal life for them."
His eyes slowly closed.
"The biggest problem — half the planet is gone. Asia is the last major landmass cluster. New nations formed. New laws. New currency. New power structure."
He took another sip. "Most profitable job now — Player."
A pause.
"Second most profitable — anything that sells to Players."
He looked at the moons again. "…I should've transmigrated as a final boss."
—
Morning came too fast. School ended too late.
And math homework felt like a personal attack.
Sable dragged his feet along the cracked pavement, a school bag hanging from one shoulder.
"Why does the apocalypse still include trigonometry?" he muttered. "Monsters exist. Three moons exist. Dimensional collapse exists. But sine, cosine, and tangent survived. Math is the final boss of my life."
He pushed open the house door. "I'm back."
Small footsteps rushed in like a missile.
Celi slammed into his legs and hugged him tight. "Bwowther…"
Sable looked down, expression tired but steady. "What is it today? Drink tax or candy tax?"
"Both," she declared.
"Greedy investor mindset. One day you'll become a dangerous businesswoman," he said, stepping inside.
A black cat jumped off the sofa and walked over with royal authority.
Sable pointed. "Kuro, you're here. Want some food, my girl?"
He opened a candy for Celi and poured cat food into a bowl. Both sat side by side eating — equally serious, equally messy.
He watched them with a flat stare. "…Same species behavior."
The cat looked up. He activated his skill quietly.
[Taming]
A faint translucent window appeared.
[Target: Domestic Cat — Kuro]
[Affection: 98%]
[Bond Status: Stable]
Sable nodded slightly. "At least someone respects me."
Then his mood dropped again.
(Level 5 Player. All points from extra training. Still useless in real combat. I'm hiding that I'm a Player — but why did I get the worst category? Tamer.)
He flexed his fingers.
Taming is ranked worst for a reason. Half of animals are mutated. The other half will become mutated. Even if taming succeeds, the infection backlash rate is high. Many tamers get attacked by their own pets.
He looked at Kuro licking the bowl. "…You're the only safe investment. Want more?"
He went to his room, changed into casual clothes, and tied his hair back loosely.
At the store, his mother — Mira — was arranging goods for the shift. She looked up. "I'm going shopping soon. What do you two want to eat?"
"Meat!" Celi shouted instantly.
"Carrot soup. For her," Sable answered at the same time.
Celi froze. Turned slowly. Betrayed.
Mira covered her mouth, laughing. "I see the civil war started early today."
Celi's eyes watered dramatically. Sable picked her up.
"You already received candy. Candy users must accept vegetable penalties."
"I refuse," she declared.
"You want to grow strong, right?"
"I don't want to grow! Growing is homework!"
Sable blinked once. "…That logic is powerful, but rejected."
Mira laughed again and grabbed her bag. "I'll bring both meat and carrot soup. Stop negotiating like ministers."
She left.
Celi whispered loudly, "Bwowther is evil."
Sable nodded seriously.
A few more days passed quietly. Too quietly.
Sable sat on a cold metal park bench, one leg stretched, the other bent.
Kuro rested on his lap like a black loaf of judgment, tail hanging over his arm. The cat's ears twitched every time a leaf scraped across the pavement.
The wind moved through the trees with a dry whisper.
Fallen leaves rolled across the path. Above the city, the barrier dome shimmered like thin glass, flashing faint system-light every few seconds.
Patrol drones drifted far overhead.
People walked carefully. Most wore light armor, skill badges, or guild-issued gear. No one truly relaxed outside anymore.
Sable rubbed Kuro behind the ear with two fingers, slow and absent-minded.
"I still haven't figured out my direction," he said. His shoulders slumped. "Future knowledge is nice, but plans cost money — and I'm still an extra."
Kuro answered with a lazy "mrrrp," without opening his eyes.
"Yes, yes." Sable nodded like he received a military report. "Very strategic opinion."
The cat blinked once. Judgmental.
"Our Kuro is a genius. Just like me."
Kuro opened his mouth in a long, silent yawn and turned his face away.
"…Betrayal," Sable muttered.
He leaned back and stared at the artificial sky glow on the barrier.
He had taken the day off from the store. His mother told him to go outside, meet people, make friends, build connections.
He rejected the proposal in under one second.
(I was an introvert in my previous life. I'm an introvert in this life. This is called consistent character design.)
He tapped Kuro's head lightly.
(Also zero friends. Very balanced build.)
He stood, lifting the cat and placing her on his shoulder She adjusted her paws like a queen claiming territory.
"Let's patrol lazily and explore the town," he said.
They walked toward the main road.
Traffic was heavier here. Reinforced buses rolled past with plated windows. Cargo trucks had mounted defense frames.
Two Player patrol bikes shot through an open lane with blue system lights blinking.
Safety existed — but it was rented, maintained, and monitored.
At the crossing ahead, two small siblings stood near the edge line.
A boy and a girl. School bags. No adult. They were arguing and nudging each other forward.
The signal was still red.
A transport bike roared around the bend — too fast for a city turn.
Sable's eyes sharpened. His posture changed instantly.
Kuro felt it and jumped down from his shoulder He didn't think. His body already decided.
"Merge," he said under his breath.
His pupils flashed with faint system light. A window opened in his vision.
[Skill Activated — Merge]
[Shared Trait: Feline Reflex / Burst Agility]
[Duration: 15 minutes]
Sound stretched. The engine roar became low and thick. Dust hung in the air like floating powder.
His shoes scraped once — then he launched forward.
His coat snapped behind him. He slipped between two pedestrians, stepped off the curb, and reached both children in one motion.
His hands caught their collars — firm, precise.
He twisted his waist and slid across the asphalt, heels dragging, body low.
The bike blasted past — wind pressure slapping his back half a second late.
He rose smoothly and set the children down behind the safety rail.
Both kids froze — then started crying at full volume.
Sable brushed dust off his sleeve. His breathing stayed steady.
"Relax. You're safe," he said. He pointed at the signal light. "Red means stop. Traffic rules are not optional. Don't duel on the road again."
The boy hiccuped.
The girl saluted through tears.
Gasps spread through the crowd.
"That speed—"
"He used a skill."
"Which guild?"
Phones lifted. Voices overlapped.
Sable already turned away. Hands in pockets. Face bored. Exit clean.
Kuro trotted beside him with her tail raised like a victory flag.
Two blocks later, he finally let out a breath and rolled his shoulders loose.
"I'm glad they're safe," he said quietly.
Kuro circled his leg and bumped it with her head.
He crouched, opened a cat treat stick, and held it out. Kuro grabbed it with both paws and chewed like a predator.
Another window opened.
[Merge Skill — Details]
[Effect: Master may use pet traits for 15 minutes]
[Cost: Post-use reward required by contracted pet]
Sable read it twice, then dragged a hand down his face.
"Yes," he said. "Hidden tax detected."
He tapped the screen.
"Taming drawback number two — after teamwork, I must give the pet a reward it personally wants. Also, to tame a target, I need at least 30% affection and their desired reward item."
Kuro finished and stared at him without blinking.
"…You're going to bankrupt me," he told her.
She purred louder. No regret.
He stood and scanned the street, eyes moving corner to corner. Jaw tight.
"I moved too fast," he thought. "That exceeded my visible stat range."
He lowered his voice. "No one noticed, right?"
Kuro meowed.
He nodded with fake authority. "Correct. Perfect stealth. Mission flawless."
Across the street, three adults were actively pointing at him — while the two children were being questioned and loudly scolded by their guardians.
"…I'm going back home before anything happens," Sable muttered.