Cheat In Apocalypse

Three

Five years had slipped by since the strange force called the System descended onto Earth and rewrote the world.

Ray sat at a quiet bus stop in front of a building so polished and expensive that it seemed to reject his presence on sight. He looked like someone who had been sick for far too long. His skin had lost all color, and his thin body hinted at weeks of barely eating. The longer he sat there, the more he blended in with the lifeless metal bench beneath him.

He let out a long, bitter sigh.

"I guess getting fired was bound to happen. When you look like you might fall over dead any minute, what boss wants to keep you around?" he muttered.

He pulled up his status window.

---

[User: Ray Palmer]

[level: 12]

[Job: None]

[Titles: None]

[Talents: None]

[Innate Abilities: None]

[Strength: 9 ║ Agility: 9 ║ Vitality: 7 ║

Stamina: 7 ║ Perception: 15 ║ Stat Points: 0]

[Skills: Basic Swordsmanship, Basic Archery]

---

Everything had begun on the day the System arrived. The moment it descended, the world changed. Strange energy spread through the air and sank into the planet, twisting the natural order. Animals, birds, insects, even ordinary plants began to mutate in ways humanity had never seen.

Humans did not mutate. Their bodies held steady, but something older stirred awake inside them. It sparked the potential for Evolution, a phenomenon that let people step beyond the limits of the old world. That day became known everywhere as the Day of Awakening.

It was also remembered as one of the bloodiest days in recorded history.

Beasts and monsters appeared in every region of the world. Some were warped versions of creatures people once knew. Others were so foreign that no one could assign them a proper name. Cities collapsed. Countless lives vanished. Some humans transformed as well. Those who failed to survive the apocalypse became things the System labeled Vileborns.

Ray survived the metamorphosis, yet he never thought of it as a blessing.

Those who endured Awakening gained strength at an astonishing pace. They could level up by killing Vileborns and the monsters that crawled out of new portals connected to unknown realms. Each victory raised their levels. New skills emerged. Talents awakened. Powers that defied science became commonplace.

With the System guiding them, humanity slowly retook the land it had lost.

Eventually, the constant wave of monsters faded. The portals quieted. The world did not return to what it once was, but the fighting grew manageable. That was when humanity set its sight on the Towers.

Each Tower acted as a passage to countless realms scattered across the universe. Inside were both danger and unimaginable growth. Anyone strong enough to awaken their class and reach the required level could walk in and out of the Tower freely. They could evolve beyond human limitations. Some even changed their race entirely.

Ray had no such path.

He lived through Awakening only to find that no talent waited for him on the other side. His level stalled at eleven despite every hour of effort he put in. Without a talent, he could not keep up with those hunting monsters or climbing the Tower. He could not even defend himself properly when faced with a Vileborn.

It took humanity one and a half years to clear out the remaining monsters in cities. When the world reached a fragile stability, the Association formed. Its job was to regulate Gifteds, keep the peace, and prevent power from being abused. It also promised to look after the weak, the low-level, and the talentless.

Ray never bought that promise. In his eyes, the talentless were little more than baggage. People with real power viewed them as a burden they were forced to tolerate.

Even so, the Association gave low-level Gifteds basic office work. That was how Ray ended up in a small department, buried in reports. His days were spent typing summaries on the System, the Gifted population, monster classifications, Vileborn activity, Abyss Gate readings, talent behavior, skill variations, and evolutionary paths recorded by Tower climbers.

His illness grew worse as time passed. Tasks that once felt simple became impossible. Reading a full report drained the strength from his limbs. Typing turned into a painful struggle. Eventually, the Association dismissed him and replaced him with someone healthy.

He had not been surprised, only exhausted.

"If I had a talent, I could have climbed levels. I could have fixed this damn sickness," he whispered, frustration shaking in his voice.

His eyes drifted upward. The Tower loomed over the city like an ancient monument from a forgotten age, its black stone cutting through the night sky.

The sight worsened the knot in his stomach.

"Forget it," he muttered. "Thinking about it changes nothing. I never asked to be born without talent. I never asked for this sickness to chew through my life."

He clenched his fists. His pale knuckles tightened until they ached.

"What now? I have no savings left. Everything went into painkillers. My job is gone. No one is going to hire a useless sick guy like me."

A thin whisper of breath escaped him.

"Do I really just wait around to die? At this rate, hunger will finish me long before this sickness does."

A strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness. He turned his head, instincts sharpened by fear, and saw the air ripple beside him. Mana thickened like fog around a new distortion. A portal pulled itself together, glowing with a deep red hue.

A red Abyss Gate opened right next to the bus stop.

"You have got to be kidding me," Ray said under his breath. "A red Abyss Gate here? Now? I must have burned through every ounce of luck I ever had just by staying alive until today."

He barely had time to stand before something stepped through.

The creature that emerged looked stitched together from nightmares. Its body was a mass of tentacles that squirmed in uneven rhythm. Three deformed heads rose from its shoulders, and six vertical yellow eyes glowed with a hunger that made the air grow cold. It stood nearly thirteen feet tall and radiated a crushing sense of dread.

Ray felt his throat tighten.

"This cannot be happening," he whispered. His legs refused to respond, no matter how he begged them to move.

His thoughts sharpened into a single truth.

"I am going to die."

His trembling hand went straight for the small knife he always carried. The thin blade felt laughably small. Still, clinging to it gave him something to focus on besides the horror advancing toward him.

He forced himself toward the emergency alarm mounted on the wall of the bus stop. His palm slammed into the button. A siren blasted through the street immediately, shrieking across the district.

"High-level Gifteds will be here in two minutes," he thought desperately. "I need to run. I need to go now."

He did not make it a single step.

A tentacle swung through the air and smashed into the bus stop with earthshaking force.

BOOM.

The entire structure disintegrated. Ray flew across the road before he even understood what hit him. He rolled along the asphalt and landed in a heap, pain lighting up every part of his body.

A painful cough forced blood up his throat.

His hand clamped against his ribs instinctively as agony radiated outward.

"I have to run," he thought, vision shaking, body trembling.

His mind screamed at him to move. His limbs ignored every command. He could barely lift his head.

If he had not reached level eleven, the impact would have turned him into a smear on the pavement. Even with the little strength he had, his injuries were severe.

"Stand up," he rasped through gritted teeth. "Move. Please."

Pulling from some stubborn part of himself, Ray forced his legs under him. He wobbled upright, though the world spun around him.

The monster was already closing in. The tentacle that had struck him earlier rose again.

Before it could wrap around him, a massive ball of fire arced across the street and slammed into the creature. The explosion knocked both Ray and the monster backward. Ray rolled further down the road, scraping across the asphalt until he stopped near the curb.

A man in shining armor rushed onto the scene, holding a longsword that looked heavy enough to crush stone.

"It really is a red Abyss Gate," he said. "We have not had one in a long time."

A woman in a long robe approached behind him.

"Then we finish it quickly," she replied. She formed another huge fireball between her hands and hurled it straight at the creature.

The impact ripped one of the tentacles clean off. It fell to the ground with a wet thud.

Within moments, the severed limb began to reform. The flesh twisted and rebuilt itself right in front of them.

"It regenerates. That will be troublesome," the woman said with a grim look.

Her attention flicked toward Ray. He lay half-conscious on the ground, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

"There is a low-level Gifted down. He needs medical attention now."

"He must have triggered the alarm," the armored man said, giving Ray a quick glance. His expression hardened into a dismissive scoff. "He is still only low level. We cannot waste time on him. The monster is the priority."

"But if we leave him like that, he could die."

"No," the man responded sharply. "Not until reinforcements arrive. We hold the line."

The woman hesitated. Conflict flickered across her face, but she eventually nodded.

"I am sorry," she whispered, voice barely audible.

She turned back to the creature and resumed her attack, sending spell after spell to keep it pinned, while Ray lay bleeding on the cold street, caught between life and death.