The sound came from somewhere far away.
At first, Nyx ignored it. She was too tired and too empty. There was no body to move, no breath to draw, and no pain left to endure. She simply remained where she was, floating in the darkness, until something warm brushed against her consciousness.
A strange sensation spread through the void.
Warmth.
Then weight.
Then breath.
Nyx’s brows twitched.
Her lungs suddenly dragged in a sharp breath. Air rushed into them so violently that she coughed. Her chest rose, then fell.
She froze.
For several seconds, she did nothing.
She could breathe.
Her fingers moved slowly and tentatively. She curled them against the sheets beneath her.
Sheets?
Nyx’s eyes snapped open.
White flooded her vision. She blinked, closing her eyes and opening them again.
A ceiling.
It was clean and unbroken, with no cracks running through it. There were no bloodstains, no warning lights, and no reinforced metal plating.
She stared upward, completely still.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound was closer now.
A monitor?
She was dead. How could she be seeing and hearing anything?
Her gaze shifted slowly. A clear intravenous line was attached to the back of her right hand, while a heart monitor stood beside the bed, its screen displaying a steady rhythm.
Nyx stared at it.
Her breathing gradually quickened.
No.
This couldn’t be real.
She lifted her hand. It was intact. There was no ash, no decaying flesh, and no blackened veins. Her skin was pale but smooth.
Suddenly, a harsh sound rang through the room as she slapped herself across the face.
The sting spread across her cheek.
She was really alive.
But what if this was only a hallucination born from death? What if her consciousness had created one final illusion before disappearing completely?
Nyx took a deep breath and slowly pushed herself upright.
Then she felt the heavy, claustrophobic weight on her left side, and her movement stalled halfway.
Her left forearm felt leaden, encased in a hard fiberglass shell that still radiated faint warmth from setting. When she shifted, the rigid cast dragged against the crisp hospital sheets, sending a jagged spike of pain up her arm.
She hissed and immediately lowered her gaze.
The thick white cast secured her arm from wrist to elbow, immobilizing her fingers in a soft curve. A clear PVC tube snaked from the cannula taped over her hand and led up to a bag of normal saline hanging from a metal pole beside the bed.
For a moment, she simply stared at it.
The dull, aching throb in her bone was not the searing burn of decaying violet energy. It was plain, simple physical trauma.
Then the memory returned.
The staircase.
Livia.
The shove.
Lucian screaming her name.
Nyx’s uninjured fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.
At this point in her previous life, Livia had been her usual vicious self, tormenting Lucian until Nyx stepped in and stopped her from insulting him further. Back then, Nyx had felt sympathy for him. She had been sad for him and angry on his behalf, but those emotions had never compared to what she had felt after spending three miserable years together surviving the invasion that everyone eventually came to call the apocalypse.
So was she truly alive, or was this an obsession born from the resentment that had lingered after watching Lucian die such a gruesome death? Had her dying mind conjured this illusion simply to let her see him one last time?
She clearly remembered dying.
She remembered the execution platform rotting beneath her.
She remembered watching everyone around her decay into nothingness.
The execution, Livia’s smile, Lucian’s mangled body, the violet energy, the power within her that destroyed everything, and her own body turning to ash—it had all been real.
She looked around the room again, her eyes widening, and her pulse began to race.
Had she truly come back to life? Had she returned to the time before everything began?
And more importantly, when was she?
Nyx reached toward the bedside table and found a phone lying there. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked it up.
The screen illuminated.
March 3, 20XX — 11:17 AM
She stared at it once, then twice.
Thirty days.
Thirty days before Realmfall.
Nyx’s fingers went still as she slowly lowered the phone.
For several seconds, she could hear nothing except the steady beeping of the monitor.
Thirty days before the sky fractured. Thirty days before the first wave of Realm Essence descended upon the world.
Only a month.
No—coming back was already an immense blessing. Even if she had returned only a day before or after the invasion, it would have been enough. As long as Lucian was alive, it was perfect.
She didn’t know whether the System had caused this, but she was grateful. Immensely grateful.
Nyx’s throat tightened as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek.
Lucian.
She remembered his final moments with terrifying clarity: his blood, his voice, his eyes, and the way he had tried to push her away while the beast tore into him.
Her breathing became uneven.
But now that she had been reborn and given another chance, he was alive.
Lucian was alive.
Nyx threw the blanket aside and tried to stand.
Her legs immediately buckled.
She caught herself against the side of the bed, gritting her teeth as pain shot through her injured arm. The monitor erupted into a faster series of beeps, but Nyx ignored it.
She needed to see him.
He should be somewhere in this hospital, or perhaps at the Arden residence. He should be breathing, walking, and living.
Nyx took another unsteady step.
Then she stopped when her gaze landed on the untouched meal sitting on the table beside the bed.
For a moment, she simply stared.
There was a bowl of steaming soup, fresh bread, and fruit.
Real food.
Not ration packs, nutrient paste, meat salvaged from mutated beasts, or something stretched thin enough to feed three people.
The smell reached her a second later.
It was warm, rich, and unfamiliar because she had forgotten what food like this smelled like.
But she had more important things to do.
Lucian first.
Nyx reached for the door.
A translucent panel suddenly appeared in front of her.
[Realmfall Survival Apocalypse System initializing...]
Nyx froze.
Her hand remained suspended inches from the handle, and her pupils contracted.
The words disappeared.
Then another notification appeared.
[Host confirmed: Nyx Arden.]
[Temporal State: Pre-Realmfall.]
[Realmfall Event: 30 Days Remaining.]
[Spatial Seed detected.]
[Status: Dormant.]
Nyx stared at the translucent screen.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
The System.
The same System that had appeared during her execution.
The same System that had bound itself to the last fragment of her dying soul.
Nyx stared at the translucent panel, unable to look away. Was this what had brought her back?
The thought had barely formed before another notification appeared.
[System synchronization in progress.]
[Current Synchronization: 8%.]
[Host consciousness stabilized.]
[Soul-Binding successful.]
[Spatial Seed remains dormant.]
Nyx’s eyes narrowed. Soul-Binding? The words stirred an uncomfortable memory: the sensation of being pulled apart, her soul dragged through something impossibly narrow, and the System’s voice breaking beneath the strain.
[Forcible Soul-Binding: 30%...]
[60%...]
[100%.]
Then darkness.
Nyx’s fingers curled. She didn’t understand what had happened at the end of her previous life, but she understood one thing: the System had survived. Somehow, so had she.
A sharp knock sounded against the door. Nyx’s head snapped toward it, but before she could answer, the door opened.
A nurse stepped inside. Her eyes widened when she saw Nyx standing beside the bed.
"Miss Arden?"
Nyx barely heard her. "Where is my brother?"
The nurse blinked. "Your brother?"
"Lucian."
The urgency in Nyx’s voice made the nurse hesitate. "Is he here?"
"I..."
The nurse glanced at the monitor, then back at Nyx. "You shouldn’t be standing yet. Please sit down before you hurt yourself."
"Lucian Arden," Nyx repeated. Her voice was quieter this time, but there was something in it that made the nurse stop. "Is he here?"
The nurse seemed to realize that answering the question would be easier than trying to convince Nyx to sit down.
"Yes. Lucian Arden is here."
Nyx’s breath caught. He was really here.
"Where?"
"He’s in the waiting area downstairs. He refused to leave after you were admitted."