Norobo

Daniel thought he had it all figured out—the cold, the heat, the monsters. In his last life, he survived until the bitter end of a world gone mad, only to die betrayed by the people closest to him. His girlfriend. His cousin. A final knife to the heart... and a promise. If he got another chance, he’d never waste it on anyone again.

Now, Daniel wakes up one month before the apocalypse begins. The world will soon plunge into three brutal periods:

The Great Cold: A frozen wasteland that devours the unprepared.The Great Heat: Temperatures high enough to boil water under a blood-red moon.The Great Evolution: Civilization crumbles as mutated monsters rise, and superpowers awaken in the hands of a dangerous few.

Armed with his inventory power—a limitless storage space—and knowledge of the future, Daniel is ready to hoard supplies, lock himself behind reinforced walls, and trust no one. Survival is the only goal. That’s the plan, at least, until the universe laughs in his face and gives him a system that can awaken superpowers.

Just not for him. Only for others. Strong, dangerous, and often unhinged people will flock to him, drawn by something they don’t understand. And the catch? Those powers only unlock if Daniel sleeps with them.

There's just one problem. 

Daniel's pretty sick of relationships and all that. He'd much rather chill in his big ass mansion as the world turns to shit three times over.

Apocalypse Regression: Starting Off By Hoarding Everything!

The mansion stood in uneasy silence, its battered walls a defiant bulwark against the frozen wasteland beyond. Daniel sat at the console, his pale fingers dancing across the controls with an efficiency born of experience and paranoia. The soft hum of the monitors was the only sound, save for the faint whistling of wind clawing at the edges of the building. On the screen, a shape loomed—moving with an uneven but purposeful gait through the swirling snow.

"Claire," he said, his voice low but carrying a gravity that immediately caught her attention.

She was already at the window, her breath fogging the glass. Her sharp gaze locked on the figure in the distance. "That's no ordinary Forsaken," she muttered, her tone laced with tension. "Look at the way it's moving. It's... calculating."

The Vanguard’s Warning