Soon

He woke before sunrise, heart pounding with a nameless anxiety. Something about the air felt heavier. The world outside his window looked the same—concrete towers, dim streetlights—but the silence rang louder in his ears. He dressed quickly, gulping down a glass of water. If his instincts were right, the apocalypse might begin today or very soon.

He checked his phone's newsfeed again. Still no monstrous headlines, just normal reports: a minor traffic jam, a small protest somewhere across town. He couldn't rely on the media. The System and the world's hidden layers wouldn't announce themselves so neatly. He had to trust his gut.

Stepping out, he decided to revisit one more rumored site. There was an old gallery that, in the future, served as a hidden quest location for Awakeners seeking rare crafting materials. Not a Rift initially, but a place where a certain sculpture would transform overnight into a mana-infused relic. If he could see that sculpture now, maybe he'd find a clue or preemptive advantage.

The art gallery lay in a quieter district. Morning haze clung to empty sidewalks as he passed closed boutiques and chained café doors. The gallery building was a low structure with tinted windows, its sign unassuming. He remembered that inside, a statue of a hooded figure would, post-apocalypse, spawn a rare crystal at its base once a month. He wouldn't get the crystal now—no magic yet—but maybe a hint of resonance?

A guard dozed in a chair behind the glass doors. The gallery didn't open for hours. He tried the door—locked. He'd have to wait or find another way in. He sighed. Maybe breaking in was too risky. Not worth blowing his cover. He was about to leave when something odd caught his eye: the guard's reflection in the glass seemed… distorted. A subtle ripple. He blinked, and it was gone. Imagination, maybe. Still, he filed that detail away.

No progress there. He decided not to force it. He still had plenty of small edges waiting to be leveraged once the chaos began. He turned back, heading towards a nearby park to think. On the way, he noticed a few people glancing nervously at the sky. Gray clouds gathered low, too low, as if pressing down on the city's rooftops. Strange weather, maybe a sign of dimensional strain.

In the park, morning joggers did their laps, unaware. He sat on a bench, considering his next move. Should he try to guess the exact day of the apocalypse? Hard to say. He only knew it was soon. He had done nearly all he could: skill learned, items stored, Rift influence set, knowledge gathered.

Another thought: He hadn't tried to improve his attributes recently beyond that one workout. If the apocalypse started and he encountered a stronger monster, every point might count. He stood and ran a few sprints along the path, did some push-ups under a tree. It felt silly to hope natural exercise would shift System stats, but it beat sitting idle.

As he finished a set, he heard hushed voices behind a hedge. Curiosity piqued, he sneaked closer. Two men, dressed too formally for a morning stroll, whispered urgently. He caught fragments: "...the sinkholes… something's off… higher-ups worried…" They sounded official, maybe low-level government or corporate agents. If people in power sensed something wrong, that confirmed his fears. The apocalypse was pressing at the seams, noticed only by a select few.

He backed away before they spotted him, a grim smile forming. Good. He wasn't imagining it. He had to remain on alert. Any moment now, a Rift could tear open. He headed home with quick steps, eager to be near his stored items and the makeshift weapon if something triggered unexpectedly.

At his apartment, he locked the door, took out the training sword for a few practice swings. No more progress bars for the manual—he'd mastered that—but repetition soothed him. The sword whispered through the air, comforting in its predictability.

Then, without warning, a faint hum filled his ears. Not a physical sound, but a System resonance. He froze mid-swing.

[System Notification: Global Integrations Imminent.

Warning: Dimensional Threshold Approaching.

User Preparedness: Above Average.]

You may experience disturbances.

Stand by.]

He nearly dropped the sword. This was it. The System was acknowledging the final countdown. He exhaled slowly, forcing calm. At least he'd gotten this warning. No one else would have. They'd be blindsided.

"Okay," he murmured to himself. "This is what I waited for. I'm ready."

He checked his storage:

Slot 1: Key Fragment

Slot 2: Minor Catalyst Bead

And his Skill:

Basic Sword Mastery (Basic)

And the Rift influence he'd etched at that construction site. Everything in place. He just had to keep his head down a bit longer.

A sudden tremor rattled his window. He peered outside. Nothing visibly changed, but the air shimmered faintly above distant buildings. He imagined tiny Rift cracks forming. The System had said "stand by," so he would. Charging out now was pointless. He needed to strike at a strategic moment, when monsters appeared and others panicked.

An hour passed, tension mounting. He paced his apartment. Another soft hum rattled in his skull. He opened the Status screen again, nothing new except a faint aura around the edges.

Then, as noon approached, all the city's ambient noise—cars, voices—dimmed strangely. He rushed to the window. People on the street looked confused, pressing their ears, checking their phones. Something was dampening sound. The apocalypse's first trick? A hush before the scream?

Suddenly, a flash of light in the distant sky. He saw it beyond the rooftops—like a crack of lightning without thunder. Then came the screams, distant yet clear. He recognized that tone: terror. Monsters must have popped into existence somewhere. The apocalypse had begun.

He grabbed his hoodie, deciding to move. Wait, no—he must think carefully. Running out blindly was foolish. But if he arrived first at that construction site Rift, he could secure that blade upgrade promised by his influence. On the other hand, going too soon might expose him to unforeseen dangers.

He clenched his jaw. A controlled approach was best. He'd scout from a distance first. He picked up his survival knife from the drawer and slipped it into his bag, not brandishing it openly. He left the training sword behind—too suspicious—and headed out.

Outside, chaos brewed. People looked up at the sky where faint distortions danced. Some ran, others shouted questions. No official announcements yet. Just confusion. He moved swiftly toward the construction site. If a Rift opened there, he needed to be on the scene.

As he neared the site's street, he saw something new: translucent shapes flickering over intersections, cracks of energy forming in midair. This was how it started last time. He remembered the patterns well.

He ducked into an alley, catching his breath. He'd be one of the only ones with a plan, a strategy. Soon, monsters would pour out, people would scream, and the System would appear to everyone, granting random Classes and Stats. But he was prepared, ahead of them all.

Steadying himself, he smiled grimly. The apocalypse had arrived, and he stood ready on day one, armed with secret knowledge and a silent sword skill in his bones. It was time to claim the first rewards of his careful preparation.