yellowbook

The apocalypse is not the end — it is a game. And only the elect can play along.

Every week, a few chosen ones are placed in a twisted mirror of reality — a world on the brink of annihilation. Here, players must survive a new cataclysmic disaster, armed with only one randomly selected ability.

Ethan Cross never asked to be a player. But when he is drawn into the Apocalypse Game, his first draw changes everything:

"the Eye of Death" - an SSS-ranked ability that shows him visions of his own death.

While others fight blindly, Ethan outwits fate itself and replays his own demise until he finds the perfect path to victory.

"Congratulations! You have overcome the disaster of [Puppet Kingdom] and obtained the [Severing Seven]: [The Severing Seven]!"

"Congratulations! You've eliminated the threat of [Abyssal Horror] and received [S-Rank Ability: [Abyssal Horror]: [S-Rank Skill: Scales of Judgment]!"

"Congratulations! You have shattered the paradox of [Time Reversal] and unlocked the [SSS Rank Skill: Sword of Destruction]: [SSS Rank Skill: Sword of Annihilation]!"

Other players: "Bro, we’re still learning the rules, how can you clear dungeons already?"

Apocalypse Control Bureau: "Mr. Cross, your survival is crucial to the future of humanity! STOP THROWING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!"

Reality Hacker: Apocalypse Loop

Murong Xiner stiffened at Ethan's question, gripping the hilt of her blade tightly. For a moment, the only sound was the distant crash of waves against the shore.

Then, with a slow breath, she spoke.

"I'm half-Russian, half-Chinese." Her voice was quiet, lacking its usual coldness. "My father was from China, but I grew up in Russia with my parents. When I was ten, war broke out."

She paused. The memory flickered in her eyes like a dying ember.

"They died in front of me. Gunfire. Smoke. I still hear their screams sometimes."

Ethan felt a tightness in his chest. No wonder she froze when the natives opened fire.

Murong continued, her gaze distant. "After they died, I was pulled into Apocalypse Online. That's where I met my teacher. He brought me back to the real world, trained me. And now, here I am."

Her fingers brushed the faint scar along her wrist, a reminder of her past.

"My teacher died trying to stop a Catastrophe-class Apocalypse. To this day, no one has ever successfully destroyed one."

Murong's eyes locked onto his. "That's why I need you to survive. If you succeed, you'll be the first. You'll prove it's possible."

Ethan laughed bitterly. "Don't put that on me. I'm not here to make history. I just want to live."

No grand ideals. No hero complex. Just survival.

Murong didn't argue. She understood—desperation was the strongest motivator.

The sea people moved with a strange purpose.

Dressed in their biomechanical armor, they rounded up the island's natives and tourists, dragging them through the fog toward the glowing altar. Most fought back until the crack of whip-like kelp vines silenced them in pain.

Ethan and Murong allowed themselves to be captured. Their wrists were bound to stone pillars with braided seaweed ropes. Around them, terrified humans whimpered, lost in the suffocating mist.

Instead, they placed shimmering crystals onto the altar, chanting in a guttural, ancient tongue.

"'Bind the humans. The ritual is ready. The Sea God will rise. The gate will open. The deities shall descend.'"

Ethan's stomach turned. Gate? Deities?

His fingers twitched toward the [Terminus Shard] at his throat.

He watched as the crystals pulsed. Their energy seeped into the altar's intricate carvings. Hour after hour, the glow faded as the ritual consumed their power.

By nightfall, the captives were weak with hunger. Even Ethan's enhanced endurance began to falter.

The ground shook. The pillars trembled.

Ethan and Murong exchanged a glance.

The Altar of the Deep