The boy without a system

Evan woke to the smell of burnt toast.

For a few seconds, he just lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, wondering why it looked so familiar. Then it clicked.

That water stain. The one that looked like a dog. He hadn't seen that in eleven years.

He sat up slowly, but his body felt wrong; it felt light and small He looked down at his hands. No scars. No calluses. All ten fingers were there, smooth and unblemished.

"What the hell," he whispered.

The room was his old bedroom. The desk was a mess; the textbooks sat untouched, just like they used to. A poster of some random hockey player hung on the wall. Everything was exactly the way he’d left it.

Before the monsters. Before the Systems. Before he watched his sister die.

He threw the covers aside and stumbled toward the mirror. A sixteen-year-old kid stared back at him. A baby face. No beard. No deadness in his eyes.

"This isn't real," he muttered.

But it felt entirely real. The floor was cold against his feet, and the air carried the scent of burnt toast and old dust. From somewhere downstairs, he could hear movement.

And humming.

He froze.

He knew that tune. It was a stupid, catchy pop song from years ago that he’d long since forgotten. But he knew it.

That’s not possible.

He crept to the door and opened it slowly. As he moved, the humming grew louder. Someone was in the kitchen.

He headed downstairs.

Lily was standing at the stove, busy burning toast. She was wearing his old hoodie, the one with the hole in the sleeve. Her hair was a mess, and she looked exactly like she did when she was fourteen.

She turned around when she heard his footsteps.

"Oh, good, you're up." She gestured toward the stove. "I think I ruined it. Do you want cereal instead?"

Evan couldn't move.

She’s dead. The thought looped in his head, relentless. She’s dead. She’s dead. I watched her die.

"Evan?" She frowned, her expression shifting to concern. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He crossed the kitchen in a blur, pulling her into a sudden, tight hug.

"Whoa!" She dropped the spatula, startled. "What is wrong with you?"

He couldn't answer. His throat felt like it had been clamped shut, and his eyes were stinging.

She’s warm. She’s actually real.

"Evan, seriously, you're freaking me out."

He let go and stepped back, searching her face. The same eyes. The same tiny freckle on her nose. That same annoyed look she always gave him when he was being weird.

"Sorry," he said, his voice sounding rough and cracked. "Bad dream."

She picked the spatula back up. "Must've been a nightmare. You're crying."

He wiped his eyes, realizing she was right.

"Just... give me a minute."

He walked out of the kitchen and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror.

You're sixteen. It's March 15th.

He knew that date well. Everyone did. It was the day before the world changed forever.

Thirty days. I have thirty days. His hands gripped the edges of the sink, trembling.

I'm back. I'm actually back. He remembered everything.

That was the hardest part. It wasn't the hunger, or the cold, or the monsters. It was the memories. All eleven years of them were crammed into his mind, like someone had forced a lifetime of trauma into a tiny, pressurized box.

He remembered the first System user a girl in China who could control water. The news had called her a miracle, and the whole world had cheered.

He remembered the second: a man in Brazil with superhuman strength. The third had fire. The fourth could heal.

By the end of that first month, everyone had a System. Some were powerful, some were weak, and some were completely useless. But everyone had one.

Everyone except Evan.

F-rank Survival System.

That was his. The lowest rank imaginable. A system that did nothing more than point out where to find clean water or how to spark a fire. It was useless in a fight. Useless for everything.

But he had survived anyway.

It wasn't because of the System; it was because of sheer, stubborn spite. Every time he reached his breaking point, he thought of Lily, and he kept moving.

He remembered the chaos of the first year, the cities collapsing and the sheer scale of the death. He and Lily had run, hid, and scavenged just to stay alive.

He remembered the third year, when he killed his first monster. A goblin. It was small, barely reaching his waist, but it was all teeth and claws. He’d stabbed it with a kitchen knife and thrown up immediately after. He did it again the next day.

He remembered the fifth year, when he met Marcus, the prepper. The old man who had taught him how to track, how to fight, and how to stay alive.

Marcus. I need to find Marcus.

He remembered the seventh year, when he discovered the truth about the System the harvesting, the Administrator.

And he remembered the tenth year, when Lily started to change.

It had been subtle at first.

She would drift off into space for a minute or two, then blink and come back to herself. She had nightmares that left her screaming, though she couldn't remember what she'd seen. She grew quiet and distant, and Evan had just assumed it was the stress of the apocalypse.

Then the dreams got darker. She started talking in her sleep using words he didn't recognize, names of places that shouldn't exist.

Then she stopped sleeping entirely.

Then came the glow.

Her eyes would flash gold for a split second, then vanish. When he asked her about it, she insisted she didn't know what he was talking about.

Then came that final night.

She stood over his bed, her eyes glowing gold. Her voice sounded wrong, layered, as if two people were speaking at once. His sister, and something else.

"She said yes."

He remembered the blade. The searing pain. The sensation of falling, He remembered the look on her face when she realized what she’d done.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

He had died with her name on his lips.

Evan opened his eyes.

He was still in the bathroom. Still gripping the sink. Still sixteen.

That was the old timeline. That was the before. He looked at his reflection one more time.

This time is different.

He walked back into the kitchen. Lily was sitting at the table, picking at her burnt toast. She looked up as he entered.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah." He sat down and reached for a piece of toast. "Hey, Lily?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just... I'm glad you're here."

She squinted at him, suspicious. "You're being weird again."

"I know."

She just shook her head and went back to her toast.

Evan watched her, the rhythm of how she ate, the way she gripped her fork, even the soft little hum she made while chewing.

I'm not losing you this time. Not again.

He took a bite of his own toast, the flavor turning to ash in his mouth.

Thirty days until the System Awakening. Thirty days until the world as he knew it ended.

He had to get ready.