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 apron clung awkwardly to my chest, the thin fabric leaving little to the imagination. My bare legs were cold against the kitchen tiles, a stark reminder of my humiliation. Tessa had insisted on this outfit—or lack thereof—with a smirk that spoke volumes.

"Cook something nice," she had said, lounging against the counter with her telekinetic aura humming faintly around her. "We're having guests."

Guests. That's what she called them. A group of scavengers she'd invited into the mansion from the frozen wasteland beyond our walls. Survivors who had, only days ago, been pounding on the gates in desperation.

I stirred the pot on the stove, the aroma of stew filling the air. My hands moved on autopilot, but my mind raced. This wasn't just about food. This was Tessa's latest performance—her sick way of flaunting her power, not just over me, but over everyone.

The Woman Of The House