Reborn 7 Days Before Doomsday: Sovereign of the Infinite For

Chapter 2

Norman bolted upright, gasping for air as if he had just broken through the surface of freezing water. His hands flew to his throat and ribs, bracing for torn flesh, but his fingers met only smooth, unbroken skin. He tumbled off the sofa onto the polished floorboards, staring at his palms in disbelieving silence.

He pulled up his pant leg with shaking fingers, finding clean skin without a single tooth mark or rusted wound. The air in the apartment smelled of fresh roasted coffee and crisp autumn wind, completely free from the stench of rot. On the glass table, his phone screen lit up with the date: October 24, 2026, exactly 9:00 AM.

Seven days remained before the severe flu mutated into the nightmare that drowned the entire world in blood. The realization struck his chest like a physical blow, leaving him trembling on the floor in absolute shock. He was not dying in the street; the heavens had truly dragged him back to the start.

With trembling fingers, Norman grabbed the phone and immediately dialed his mother, Martha. The line connected after two rings, and her gentle, raspy voice came through the speaker: "Norman? Sweetheart, is that you?"

Hearing that fragile voice broke the heavy dam in his chest, sending silent, burning tears down his cheeks. Ever since he was born, it had just been the two of them scraping by in drafty rooms, his mother cleaning floors until her hands swelled with crippling arthritis. Then came the sudden call that the father he never knew had died a wealthy tycoon, leaving an uneducated orphan as the sole heir to a vast corporate empire.

That sudden fortune was the blood in the water that brought Elena and Damian swimming into their lives with hollow smiles. Claiming an illiterate laborer could never run boardrooms, Elena convinced him to let Damian manage the business on his behalf. For two years, they tossed Norman and his mother meager pennies while Damian pocketed millions, always claiming bad market conditions and failed investments.

"Norman? Why are you calling so early, son?" Martha asked, her voice full of tender worry. "Did you forget your lunch again? Don't skip meals for work, your old mother is doing just fine."

"No, Mom," Norman said, forcing his voice to stay level and firm through the lump in his throat. "I didn't forget anything. I just needed to hear you talk, and I wanted you to rest your knees today."

"You work too hard for this family, my boy," Martha chuckled softly, coughing faintly into the receiver. "Don't you worry your head about me. Eat a warm breakfast and stay safe out there today, alright?"

"I will, Mom," Norman promised, his knuckles whitening around the phone with iron resolve. "Stay inside today. From this moment on, your son is taking care of everything, and I swear nobody will ever hurt you again."

He hung up the call and wiped his cheeks, his grief hardening into pure, unyielding stone. In his past life, he had been a blind fool who worked himself to the bone while smiling snakes plotted his mother's murder. This time, he would build an impenetrable fortress for her, and the vultures would pay for every drop of blood.

A crisp, mechanical chime echoed directly inside his skull, vibrating through the bones of his head.

[Doomsday Sovereign System Activated: Level 1.]

[Base Reward Granted: Full Literacy, Legal Insight, and Tactical Comprehension.]

[Mission 1: Sever toxic karmic ties. File for legal divorce within 24 hours!]

[Mission Reward: Infinite Time-Stasis Storage.]

[Apocalypse Countdown: 6 Days, 23 Hours, 48 Minutes.]

A wave of icy clarity surged through Norman's mind, burning away years of fog and ignorance in a heartbeat. The text on his smartphone, once a meaningless tangle of squiggles to his uneducated eyes, suddenly became as plain as day. Without hesitating for a single second, he dialed Walter Sterling, his late father's personal estate attorney.

"Hello, who is calling?" a sharp, formal voice answered after two rings.

"Mr. Sterling, this is Norman Mercer," Norman said, his voice flat, steady, and colder than winter ice. "I need you to draft contested divorce papers against Elena Hayes immediately, freeze every single family account, and have the court injunction ready before noon."

There was a sudden pause on the other end, followed by the crisp rustle of thick legal files. "Mr. Mercer, you have finally opened your eyes," the attorney said with genuine relief. "I have your father's estate records right in front of me; I will have the emergency court injunction filed within two hours."

Norman ended the call just as the electronic lock on the front door beeped with a cheerful chime. The mahogany door swung wide open, flooding the entryway with the suffocating scent of expensive French perfume. Elena strutted inside carrying glossy boutique bags, laughing loudly as Damian and Beatrice followed close behind.

Beatrice waddled into the living room, wearing a thick gold necklace Norman had worked sixty-hour shifts to buy her. Damian wore a tailored Italian suit, spinning a set of luxury car keys on his index finger with an arrogant smirk. "Norman, get off that couch and take these shopping bags to my dressing room," Elena ordered without even glancing at him.

"My ankles are swollen from walking the mall, and you haven't even boiled water for my morning tea," Elena complained, tossing her coat onto the table. Damian walked up to the coffee table and dropped a heavy leather folder right in front of Norman with a thud, leaning against the sofa with the predatory grin of a hyena circling an easy meal.

"Great news, brother," Damian said smoothly, tapping the thick document with a manicured finger. "Our flagship logistics firm just landed a historic partnership deal with the largest shipping conglomerate in the province. Since you're still the legal CEO on paper, we just need your signature to authorize the expansion so the millions can start rolling in."

Elena sat down beside Norman, placing a manicured hand on his shoulder in a sickening display of affection. "Sign it quickly, honey," Elena coaxed, leaning close so her perfume filled his nose. "Damian spent weeks setting this up for our family's future, and you know business contracts just give you a headache anyway."

In his previous life, Norman had melted under that soft touch, feeling deeply grateful that such a smart man was managing his wealth. He had gripped the pen like an illiterate child, clumsily tracing his name where they pointed while believing he was securing their future. Now, Norman slowly opened the thick folder, his newly awakened intellect reading every single predatory clause in seconds.

This was no joint partnership; it was an absolute, unconditional transfer of the entire Mercer Group's assets into Damian's private offshore firm. Worse, hidden in the annex on page six was an assumption clause making Norman personally liable for Damian's two million dollars in unpaid gambling debts. They were stripping away his family's corporate crown jewel for zero dollars while burying him alive under a mountain of ruined credit.

"A partnership deal?" Norman said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he looked down at the paper. "This is an unconditional transfer deed handing over all company assets to your private company for nothing, with a clause saddling me with your two million dollars of personal debt."

Elena froze mid-smile, the color instantly draining from her pretty face as her eyes widened in pure horror. "How did you..." Elena gasped, the shock tearing the words from her mouth before she could stop them. "How can you read that?!"

Damian's relaxed posture vanished instantly, his smirk hardening into a sharp scowl of disbelief. 

His mother-in-law, Beatrice, stepped forward, crossing her thick arms and sneering down at Norman with open contempt. "Don't pretend you can read legal words, you useless bum! You don't even know how to spell your own middle name, so hurry up and sign before Damian loses his deal!"

Norman looked at the three parasites standing before him, remembering his mother's shattered body lying in the alley snow. He remembered Damian's laughter echoing through the locked glass door while the zombies tore his flesh from his bones. Without saying another word, Norman gripped the thick contract in both hands and ripped it clean in half.

The loud tear of paper cracked through the room like a gunshot, leaving the trio frozen in stunned disbelief. Norman stacked the torn halves together and ripped them across once more, letting the white scraps scatter into the wastebasket. "Are you completely out of your mind?!" Damian roared, slamming his fists onto the table as his face turned purple with fury.

"Do you have any idea how much money that deal was worth, you illiterate piece of garbage?!" Damian snarled, lunging forward with bared teeth. Beatrice shrieked behind him like grinding metal, "Norman! You ungrateful stray dog, you wouldn't even have shoes on your feet if my daughter hadn't taken pity on your miserable life!"

Elena grabbed Norman's arm, her sweet mask shattering into vicious fury as her fingernails dug into his skin. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Elena hissed, shaking him with trembling hands. "Apologize to Damian right now and call his assistant to print another copy! Who gave you permission to tear up his business papers?!"

Norman stood up slowly, towering over Elena with eyes that burned like black ice. He shoved her hands off his arm with one sharp motion, sending her stumbling back against the sofa cushions. For the first time in their entire marriage, Elena looked up at him and found no warmth, no devotion, and no fear.

"Sign my family's empire over to your secret lover?" Norman said, his voice dropping into a quiet, lethal growl that chilled the room. 

Elena's jaw dropped as her breath caught in her throat, her face turning chalk-white. "What... what did you just call him?" Elena stammered, trembling under his gaze.

Norman turned his cold eyes toward Damian, who took an uneasy step backward under the sheer weight of his stare. "Walter Sterling is filing the contested divorce papers at the district court right now," Norman stated with iron finality. "Every corporate account is frozen, and by sunset, I want your trash out of my house. We are done."