Back To The Apocalypse: To Protect You

December, 2026. Deep within the Arctic Circle, where the wind howled endlessly across a barren expanse of ice and darkness, a multinational research team made a discovery that would alter the course of human history forever. Buried beneath layers of ancient permafrost, untouched for fifty million years, lay something that should never have awakened. A virus. At first, it was treated as a miracle of science—a relic from a forgotten age, perfectly preserved, offering humanity a rare glimpse into the origins of life itself. Scientists gathered around it with awe, their voices filled with excitement, their eyes reflecting ambition and curiosity. No one feared it. Not yet. But the moment it was exposed to the modern atmosphere, something changed. Silently. Subtly. The ancient organism began to adapt. To evolve. To become something else entirely. The first infected individual showed no symptoms. No fever, no pain, no visible abnormalities. Every test returned normal results. Every scan showed nothing out of place. He smiled. He spoke. He walked out of the laboratory as if nothing had happened. And no one stopped him. Hours later, he boarded a commercial flight—one of the last to depart before emergency restrictions began to spread across regions, before whispers of containment protocols turned into orders. By then, it was already too late. Seventy-two hours passed. The first city fell. There was no grand announcement at first. No clear moment when everything broke. Just scattered reports—unusual violence, unexplained deaths, systems failing one after another. Then came the silence. And then the screams. By the time humanity realized what it was facing, the collapse had already begun. The apocalypse was not sudden. It was overwhelming. Within seventy-two hours, the intricate order that humanity had spent thousands of years constructing—laws, systems, morality, trust—crumbled into nothing. Governments lost control. Communication fractured. Authority dissolved. Law ceased to exist. Morality became a distant memory, something people spoke of only in the past tense. Equality… revealed itself as nothing more than a fragile illusion. Cities burned. Skies turned gray with smoke. The air carried the metallic scent of blood, thick and suffocating. The streets were no longer pathways of civilization, but hunting grounds. People no longer recognized one another as equals, or even as human. They saw only resources. Water. Food. Survival. The living hunted the living, driven by desperation, fear, and something darker—something primal that had always existed beneath the surface, now finally unleashed. In this world, stripped of everything it once was, only one rule remained: The weak obey the strong. And yet, even that was not the most terrifying part. Because death was not the end for everyone. After the initial outbreak, something unexpected occurred. Some of the infected… did not die. They survived. Days passed. Then weeks. And instead of succumbing, their bodies changed. Their eyes sharpened. Their senses heightened. Their very existence seemed to shift into something beyond human understanding. And then— they awakened. Flames flickered in empty air, responding to a mere thought. Ice formed instantly, spreading in intricate patterns across solid surfaces. Bodies moved faster than the eye could follow. Strength exceeded all known limits. Abilities. Powers. Something impossible. Humanity, standing at the edge of extinction, dared to believe this was hope. A chance to fight back. A way to reclaim what had been lost. But hope, as it turned out, was just another illusion. Because not everyone who awakened remained human. Some changed in ways that could not be undone. Their minds fractured. Their instincts twisted. Their humanity eroded until nothing recognizable remained. They were stronger. Faster. Deadlier. And no longer bound by reason. The apocalypse did not end. Not in days. Not in years. The first year marked the complete collapse of civilization. Cities became hollow shells, filled with ruins and echoes of what once was. Governments vanished as if they had never existed. Over eighty percent of the population disappeared within months—lost to infection, violence, or something worse. In the years that followed, the survivors adapted. They learned. They endured. Scattered groups formed into bases, small at first, then larger, more organized. Power structures emerged once again—not built on laws, but on strength. Factions rose. Conflicts continued. And humanity, broken but not entirely gone, struggled forward, step by step, clawing its way toward survival. Time passed. Decades blurred together. And by the thirtieth year, a truth became impossible to ignore: Earth was no longer a place where humanity could survive. Not truly. Not anymore. The land was scarred. The air was tainted. The balance of life had been irreversibly broken. And so, humanity faced its final decision. Leave. No matter the cost. For the first time since the apocalypse began, the major factions chose cooperation over conflict. Old grudges were set aside—not forgiven, but ignored. They gathered everything they had left. Resources. Knowledge. Power. Every remaining ability user was called upon. Not to fight. But to build. To create something that had never existed before—a machine capable of carrying humanity beyond the ruins of its own world. Years passed in desperate effort. Failures piled upon failures. Hope flickered, dimmed, and nearly vanished. But in the end— they succeeded. Somewhere in the vast darkness of space, they found it. A planet. A world with conditions close enough to Earth to sustain life. They named it: Planet X. And with that fragile thread of hope, the last remnants of humanity left their home behind. They did not look back. They could not. Because there was nothing left worth returning to. ⸻ Two thousand years after the apocalypse… Humanity had entered an entirely new era. Because most of the original survivors were ability users, their bloodlines had changed. Children born in this age— awakened their abilities from the moment they were born. From that point on, an absolute hierarchy was established. The rarer the ability, the higher the talent… the more noble the status. The great families no longer married for love, but for genetics. They calculated, selected, and formed alliances with the most exceptional individuals— all to create stronger future generations. Compared to the early days of the apocalypse, when only basic elemental abilities existed, humanity evolved alongside the virus. Special abilities began to appear. And from that moment on— the gap between people… became impossible to cross. Among the “marriage candidates” targeted by the Su family—the most powerful family—two names stood out above all others: Qiao Nian’an. Su Yu. One possessed dual abilities of machinery and ice—capable of controlling, shaping, and synchronizing with machines and metals, while freezing everything within a certain range. The other wielded mental, wood, and spatial abilities— a genius mind capable of controlling plant life across dimensions, both within and beyond space itself— a power so rare it was nearly nonexistent in history. Both were classified as S-rank talents. They were the future that families fought over. The perfect union countless people desired. But no one knew— this marriage had never been their choice from the very beginning. In this society… they had never been given the right to choose. Their marriage was predetermined. So was their fate. But this time— they refused. Qiao Nian’an and Su Yu, two S-rank talents standing at the peak of the pyramid, joined forces for the first time— not for their families, but to rebel. Metal trembled in the air. Piece by piece, structures reformed under Qiao Nian’an’s will, assembling into a colossal machine never before seen. Across from her, space itself began to distort. Su Yu closed his eyes. His mental power surged, forcing reality to bend to his will. This was not teleportation. This was— tearing apart space-time. Energy drained. Their bodies were on the verge of shattering. The machine trembled, space warped to its limits. They both understood— if they failed, there would be only one outcome: being crushed within the rifts of space-time. But neither of them stopped. In the final moment… when their consciousness was about to fade— a miracle happened. Space truly bent. The machine let out a piercing roar— and collapsed. Light swallowed everything. … When they opened their eyes again— a sky they had never seen before. Fresh air. A strange room. Objects and technology that resembled the early records of Planet X. This was— Old Earth? And judging by the surroundings— the apocalypse… had not happened yet.