Endings

Chapter One: The Clock Resets

The sky was painted in shades of ash and blood.

The world had already ended.

Buildings stood like broken teeth along the horizon, their windows shattered, their walls burned black with fire and smoke. Cars were overturned and gutted in the streets, their frames rusted, their doors clawed open as though monsters had pried them apart with bare hands. A foul, metallic stench clung to the wind, heavy with decay, rotting flesh, and dried blood.

Atop a half-collapsed rooftop stood a man.

His figure was thin but wiry, muscles hardened from two years of constant running, fighting, and scraping for survival. His black coat fluttered in the wind, its edges frayed and torn from countless battles. The moonlight revealed his pale face, streaked with blood and grime, though his eyes still burned sharp and dark beneath the layers of exhaustion.

Eren Vale.

A name nearly forgotten in this world where names had ceased to matter.

He gripped the knife in his hand so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The blade was stained with fresh blood—zombie blood, human blood, he no longer knew. The corpses he had cut down earlier lay scattered at the base of the building, twitching faintly as the last sparks of false life faded from their husks.

But there was no victory in him.

There was nothing left to fight for.

Eren's gaze drifted across the city that had once been alive with color, music, and laughter. Now it was nothing but ruins and smoke. He thought of the friends he'd lost along the way—faces he had buried one by one, names carved into his memory until they became knives stabbing into his chest.

And above all... he thought of him.

Adrian Cross.

The man who had carried their broken group on his shoulders. The man who had fought until the end, who had chosen to die protecting others when hope had already burned away. Eren could still hear his voice, deep and commanding, steady even when the world fell apart. He could still see that fleeting, rare smile Adrian had given him in his final moments—a smile that haunted him even now.

Eren's throat burned as he whispered into the night.
"Damn it... I never even told you..."

The knife trembled as he lifted it to his chest, pressing the cold steel over his heart.

A coward until the very end.

If only... if only he could go back.

His vision blurred with tears. His chest tightened—not from the blade, but from the crushing weight of regret. He had survived longer than most, clawing his way through hunger and death. But survival meant nothing without the ones who had given his life meaning.

"I don't want to keep going alone..."

The wind stilled.

A strange warmth spread across his chest, seeping into his bones. His eyes widened in shock as golden light burst from beneath his skin, glowing brighter and brighter until the knife slipped from his fingers.

"What...?"

The city dissolved. The ruined skyline shattered like glass. The cries of the dead vanished into silence.

And Eren fell.

⸻

When he opened his eyes, sunlight blinded him.

The sound of birdsong replaced the silence of ruin. A faint hum of traffic came from outside the window, steady and calm.

He blinked rapidly, his heart pounding, trying to understand. He was lying on a bed—his bed. The sheets were clean, the pillow soft beneath his head. A faint scent of detergent and coffee lingered in the air, a smell he hadn't known in years.

"No way..."

Eren sat up abruptly, his breath ragged. He looked around in disbelief. The walls were familiar—his small apartment, white-painted and cramped but home. His desk sat by the window, cluttered with notebooks and an old laptop. Posters still hung crookedly on the wall.

His hands shook as he reached for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up.

Date: July 12.

His chest clenched. His throat went dry.

Two weeks.

Two weeks before the first outbreak.

Eren's pulse thundered in his ears. Somehow, impossibly, his wish had been granted. He had gone back.

"This... this is real?" His voice cracked. He pinched his arm, hard. The sting was sharp, the skin reddened. Not a dream.

For the first time in years, hope surged inside him like wildfire.

He could change everything.

This time, he wouldn't watch the world collapse without preparation. This time, he wouldn't lose the people he loved. And most of all—this time, he wouldn't let Adrian die.

⸻

Eren scrambled out of bed, still half-shaking. He was about to grab his notebook when something strange happened.

The notebook shimmered.

Right before his eyes, it vanished into thin air, dissolving like mist.

"What the hell—?!"

Eren froze. A moment later, awareness bloomed in his mind. He could feel it—like a second body attached to him. A vast, empty space stretched inside his consciousness, endless and hollow. And there, floating weightless, was his notebook.

Tentatively, Eren reached out with his hand. With a thought, the notebook reappeared in his palm.

His lips parted in shock.

A spatial ability.

In the ruined world he remembered, some survivors had awakened strange powers after the outbreak—fire manipulation, heightened strength, telekinesis. He had never been one of them. But now... it seemed time had not only given him a second chance but also a weapon to fight with.

He tested it again. The mug on his desk vanished, only to appear again when he willed it. The space was massive, stretching as far as his mind could sense. Big enough to store weapons, food, even vehicles if he managed it.

Eren's lips curled into a smile. For the first time since the end, he felt a spark of control.

This time, he wouldn't be powerless.

⸻

By afternoon, Eren had already set a plan in motion. He raided the supermarket, filling carts with rice, canned goods, bottled water, medicine—anything that wouldn't spoil. To the other shoppers, he looked like just another eccentric young man hoarding supplies. But inside, his heart raced with triumph as he discreetly stored everything into his space.

He had fourteen days. Fourteen days to build an arsenal, to prepare for the storm, to ensure survival.

But as he pushed his final cart down the aisle, his thoughts began to wander—not to weapons or supplies, but to a face.

Sharp features, storm-gray eyes, a voice that could steady even the most panicked survivor. Adrian Cross.

In his past life, Adrian had been the leader of their base, the anchor that held them together through impossible times. Cold, distant, but reliable. He had carried burdens no one else could, and in the end, he had paid the price.

Eren clenched his fists around the cart handle.

Adrian's last smile flashed in his mind—a smile meant for him, faint and tired but sincere.

This time... Adrian was alive. Unknowing, unprepared, but alive.

And Eren swore he would not only protect him—he would stay by his side.

The apocalypse was coming.

But this time, Eren would change everything.

And maybe, just maybe, he would finally tell Adrian the truth that had burned in his chest all along.