chapter 4.5 APOCALYPSE

Once again, Herwoj woke up in his bed. His breath came in short, panicked bursts, his body drenched in cold sweat. It took him a few seconds to gather himself, to realize where he was. Then, the memories came crashing down.

The pain. The terror. The sight of his own death. Again.

A guttural wail tore from his throat.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!!" he roared, fists clenched, his voice raw with frustration. "What the hell did I do wrong this time!?"

The echoes of his outburst faded into silence. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, his body trembling. Slowly, he forced himself to calm down, to piece together what had happened.

And then, like a crack of lightning through his mind, a memory surfaced—

A book.

"The Reader's Universe."

"Yes…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

That book. That game. He had been thinking about it just before leaving to see his father.

Heart pounding, he grabbed his phone and frantically searched for the downloaded chapters. Nothing. The book was gone. Vanished.

A cold realization settled over him.

This wasn't a coincidence. It was confirmation.

His suspicions were right—he was living within the events of that very book.

Herwoj squeezed his temples, forcing himself to recall the details. The book described a vast, incomprehensible universe, unlike anything humans could imagine. Within that universe was an endless dimension called the Overworld, a realm of omnipotent beings, eldritch horrors, and gods who treated reality like a playground.

The Overworld never stopped growing. It consumed everything. Every world, every reality—eventually, they all fell to it.

And the Apocalypse was the key. A system designed to merge weak worlds into the Overworld, a twisted game orchestrated by beings who reveled in watching mortals struggle for survival.

Herwoj shuddered.

The book spoke of Main Characters—figures destined to shape the future of both their worlds and the universe itself. But Herwoj? He wasn't one of them. He wasn't supposed to be here.

Yet, he had died. And he had returned.

Something was different about him. Something had changed.

Then, a deeper fear surfaced.

Who was the mysterious figure that killed him before?

Herwoj clenched his jaw. He needed a plan. If he was truly inside the world of that book, then he had to use every bit of knowledge he had to survive.

The first scenario was coming.

He remembered that nothing major was set to happen for another three hours—around 8 or 9 PM. That gave him time. And if he recalled correctly, the next major event was the appearance of the protagonist.

For now, that didn't concern him. What mattered was to see if he could escape the city before it all began and avoid the scenario's .

Without wasting another second, Herwoj grabbed his belongings, threw on some clothes, and hailed a taxi.

"Take me to Incheon Port."

As the city lights blurred past the taxi windows, Herwoj's mind drifted back to the strange voice and notifications he had seen earlier.

Unlocking his phone, he found them again—messages from an app he had never seen before.

Curious, he opened it.

An orchestral swell played in his ears—reminiscent of RPG games—followed by a message:

"Congratulations! You have been rewarded by the Author."

A reward?

A small box appeared on his screen, prompting him to accept.

The moment he did, words formed before his eyes:

[Skill Acquired: Darśana]

Reading the description, Herwoj's breath caught.

"Darśana – Allows the user to foresee their own death before it happens and sense incoming danger."

A chill ran down his spine. This was exactly what he needed.

But there was more.

Checking his inbox, he found an update notice:

"Preparations for the Scenarios are nearly complete. The app is my final gift to you."

Another feature caught his attention:

[Daily Rewards – Death Incentive]

His eyes widened as he read the details.

"Each time you die within the next 24 hours, you will receive a reward. The nature of your death will determine the type of reward received."

Herwoj's grip on his phone tightened.

He could grow stronger by dying.

A sharp laugh escaped his lips, filled with both excitement and terror.

"Yes!"

Then, he realized—the taxi driver had heard him.

Embarrassed, he turned to apologize, but—

The world had stopped.

The air was motionless. The city beyond the windows was frozen in time. The taxi driver sat like a statue, his hands gripping the wheel, his face locked in a lifeless expression.

Herwoj swallowed hard.

It was the app.

To test his theory, he closing the app.

And just like that, time resumed.

Herwoj exhaled shakily, his heart pounding. He was playing with something far beyond his understanding.

Minutes later, they arrived at the port.

Herwoj stepped out after paying the fare, his mind still racing. But before he could move toward the terminal, a child's cries reached his ears.

A young girl sobbed as her mother tried to console her.

Herwoj, feeling an unexpected urge, walked over.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

The mother sighed. "She lost her toy. She doesn't want to leave without it."

Herwoj paused.

Then, an idea formed.

"How about I show you a magic trick?"

He borrowed a handkerchief from a passerby and, with practiced ease, performed the "Disappearing Handkerchief" trick.

The girl's teary eyes widened. As the handkerchief vanished, her sadness was replaced by laughter.

Others around them clapped. Even her mother smiled in relief.

For a brief moment, Herwoj forgot about the horrors that awaited.

Then, the daughter called out.

"Papa!"

Herwoj turned and saw the taxi driver.

The man smiled as his wife explained what had happened. He thanked Herwoj before waving goodbye.

As Herwoj entered the ferry, something glimmered beneath the seat. Curious, he reached into the legroom, fingers closing around a soft object—

Pain.

A sharp sting ran through his hand, but he ignored it, pulling the object out.

A stuffed toy animal.

His throat tightened. It was hers. The girl's lost toy.

He clutched it, whispering to himself:

"If she's still alive when this is over… I'll return it to her."

But as he made that silent vow—

A vision slammed into his mind.

A dark figure.

Moving toward the ferry

Darkness.

A glimpse into something beyond human comprehension. A towering silhouette moved toward the ferry, its form shifting like smoke, yet heavier than any physical force Herwoj had ever encountered.

The vision shattered.

The ship was quiet, too quiet. A murmur spread through the passengers, growing into panicked whispers as heads turned toward the fog rolling in over the water. It was thick, suffocating, swallowing the world beyond the ferry into an abyss of white nothingness.

A cold dread gripped Herwoj's chest. This was it.

His breath hitched as another vision struck like a dagger to the skull. This time, he saw it—monstrous limbs, grotesque and black as oil, emerging from the water. They lashed out with impossible speed, piercing through bodies, crushing bones, reducing the ship to nothing but a graveyard of flesh and splintered steel.

His body moved before his mind could catch up.

With a desperate gasp, Herwoj threw himself overboard. The icy embrace of the water stole his breath, but there was no time to hesitate.

Screams erupted behind him. Others had seen it too. One by one, they followed, throwing themselves into the dark waves in blind terror leaving the captain's plea for them to calm themselves in deaf ears .

A second later, the nightmare unfolded exactly as Herwoj had foreseen.

He turned just in time to witness the massacre. The ferry, a once-sturdy vessel, became a plaything for the abyss. The limbs came down like divine punishment, impaling, smashing, and tearing apart everything in their reach. Blood misted into the air, dyeing the fog a deep, sickly crimson.

Even though he had expected it—even though he had seen it in his vision—the raw horror of it all made his stomach churn.

The survivors in the water didn't last long. The limbs descended again, plucking them from the surface like a predator picking off helpless prey. One by one, they disappeared, yanked beneath the waves without so much as a final scream.

Herwoj swam. Harder than he ever had in his life. The terror in his veins burned hotter than the cold that numbed his limbs. He had to get away.

Somehow, impossibly, he reached the shore. His fingers scraped against the rough concrete of the port as he dragged himself onto solid ground, coughing up seawater, his entire body trembling.

He didn't look back. He couldn't.

He ran.

His wet clothes clung to his body, but he barely noticed. The only thing that registered was the silence. The port was empty. Completely abandoned. No cries, no footsteps, nothing.

Then—

A flickering light.

A car stood in the middle of the road, its headlights casting a weak, stuttering glow against the suffocating darkness. Something was wrong. The front was crumpled inward, as if something massive had struck it. The roof was dented, crushed like an aluminum can under an invisible weight.

A cold pit formed in Herwoj's stomach as he stepped closer.

His breath caught in his throat.

Inside the wreck, slumped over the wheel, was the taxi driver. His wife was beside him, their child in the backseat. Blood stained the seats.

Herwoj's chest tightened.

Tears stung his eyes before he could stop them.

Then—a sound.

A weak, rasping cough.

Herwoj's head snapped up.

From within the wreck, the taxi driver shifted slightly, his voice barely a whisper.

"…Is…someone… there…?"

Herwoj swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he answered.

"…It's me. Herwoj. I'm here."

The taxi driver's breath was shallow, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned his fading gaze toward Herwoj.

"Ahh… Herwoj… I don't have much time left…" His voice cracked, thick with exhaustion and something far heavier—acceptance.

With trembling fingers, he reached toward the glove compartment, his movements sluggish, each one a struggle against the inevitable. The compartment creaked open, revealing a gun.

Herwoj's breath caught in his throat.

His mind screamed at him to reject what was happening, but the weight in the taxi driver's eyes told him everything.

He knew what the man was asking.

A bitter, hollow smile spread across Herwoj's face. His lips parted, but all that came out was a shaky whisper.

"I… I can't do it."

The taxi driver let out a breathless chuckle—one devoid of joy.

"You have to," he murmured. "I… I can't live in a world without them…" His bloodstained hand weakly gestured toward his wife and child, their lifeless bodies slumped in the back seat.

Herwoj swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He tried to reason with him, his voice cracking under the weight of desperation.

"There's still a chance… Maybe we can—"

But the man shook his head, his body trembling violently. His time was slipping away.

"…Please…"

Silence stretched between them.

Herwoj's fingers tightened around the gun. The metal was cold, far too cold. His heart pounded in his ears, his vision blurred.

"…Are you sure?"

The driver didn't speak. He simply nodded—slow, deliberate.

Herwoj exhaled sharply, his hands shaking as he raised the gun.

He closed his eyes.

The world stood still.

Four gunshots rang out.

The echoes faded into the night, swallowed by the thickening mist.

Herwoj stood there, motionless. His hands trembled as the gun slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the bloodstained pavement.

Then, he fell to his knees.

A raw, guttural sob tore from his throat.

The weight of what he had done bore down on him like an unrelenting storm. He had ended a man's suffering… but at what cost?

Then—a sound.

A low, eerie orchestral swell filled the air, vibrating through his bones.

Herwoj's tear-streaked face lifted, his breath hitching as something unnatural happened.

A dull, crimson glow pulsed above the taxi driver's corpse.

A stone-like crystal—dark, jagged, carved with symbols that shifted before his eyes—materialized above the man's skull.

Herwoj's breath came in sharp gasps. He reached forward, his fingers brushing against the stone—

And the moment he touched it, the world changed.

A translucent screen burst into existence before him, displaying lines of glowing text. It felt like a game interface, but this was no game.

[You have claimed the first Kill Reward in this region.]

Herwoj's stomach churned.

He wasn't the first to die.

He was the first to kill.

Disgust twisted his insides. He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. Without thinking, he hurled the gem away, wanting nothing to do with it.

But—

A metallic clang echoed in the empty street.

Herwoj froze.

The gem had hit something.

But there was nothing there.

Or rather… there was something, but it couldn't be seen.

His breath quickened, his heartbeat thunderous. The realization gnawed at him like a slow poison.

Then, as if the universe wanted to confirm his worst fears—the mist arrived.

It rolled in thick and suffocating, swallowing the streets in an oppressive fog. It coiled around him, slithering like something alive.

Herwoj's grip on the gun tightened.

A shadow moved.

A silhouette emerged from the fog—small, delicate.

A cat.

Herwoj's muscles tensed. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

The way it walked… the way it appeared. It wasn't natural.

His fingers squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot shattered the silence.

The cat let out a distorted, inhuman screech as the bullet tore through its body. It collapsed, twitching, blood pooling beneath it.

For a moment, there was nothing but the deafening sound of Herwoj's breathing.

Then—

A roar.

Not a normal roar.

A deep, abyssal sound that made the very air tremble.

Herwoj's head snapped up, his blood turning to ice.

The mist split open.

A towering nightmare loomed above him.

A grotesque, eldritch beast—massive, impossibly large, its form shifting and writhing, stretching beyond the limits of human comprehension.

Its presence alone crushed the air from his lungs.

And then—pain.

Blinding, searing agony tore through his body.

He looked down.

Blood.

His own blood.

It poured freely, his vision swimming in crimson as his body—his very being—was ripped apart.

The last thing Herwoj saw before the darkness swallowed him whole—

—was the beast's hollow, endless gaze watching him die.