"I don't know."
Mike fell silent for a moment before shaking his head. "If everything you're saying is true, then there's no way for me to understand what my future self is thinking."
People can understand their past selves, but never truly predict what they'll become in the future.
Even if life ahead seems like a lifeless, preordained routine… destiny is never so simple. Life always finds ways to surprise us.
"Hah, you're pretty pure right now, I'll give you that."
Wang Peibo looked at Mike with a teasing smile. "At least you don't currently think you're a total dumbass."
Mike raised a brow. He could tell this guy was insulting him—he just couldn't prove it.
"You asked me why you wanted to become a hero," Mike said, now calmer and more accepting of Wang Peibo's absurd appearance in his life. "So you must know what kind of hero my future self wanted to be."
"Yes," Peibo nodded, eyes gleaming, "The kind who stands at the forefront of all humanity."
He grinned. "Feeling proud?"
Mike shook his head slowly. "No. It just feels like a responsibility."
"I still don't see myself becoming someone that noble," Mike added. "Protecting my own people, sure. But standing up for the entire human race? What am I, the universe's final customer service rep?"
It all sounded ridiculous.
"Responsibility, huh? That's a pretty clean start," Peibo chuckled. "You're way more idealistic now than in the future. Future-you wouldn't say anything like that. I've walked that road with you. You were cursing and screaming at the world the whole way through."
"Hm… but did I ever give up?"
"No," Peibo admitted. "But man, your rants were brutal."
"Then maybe future-me understands sacrifice and responsibility better than I do now."
Mike gave a faint smile. "Which means… right now, I might just be a hypocrite in comparison."
"Exactly," Peibo nodded cheerfully. "You hated the very concept you fought for—'a shared destiny for all mankind.' You kept brainwashing yourself into believing that if humanity died, you'd die too. That you were just fighting for your own survival."
The Shared Fate of Humanity.
Mike's expression turned serious. He suddenly held a deep respect for his future self.
He never imagined that version of himself could possess such… resolve. Sure, he cursed a lot—but in the end, it was the result that mattered. The scope of it all… that was something else entirely.
"But the more you struggle, the more you suffer. And pain clouds judgment," Peibo said flatly. "I'm just here to correct those mistakes—to guide you when you start veering off course."
"You asked me to," he added, voice quieter. "Every time you died, you left behind the same request."
"Wait—died?" Mike's eyes twitched. "Every reset means I died?"
Shit! Just how many times have I died?!
Though visibly tense, Mike forced himself to stay calm. "What did I say, each time?"
"You'd always say: 'Make me a little more perfect this time. If there's not even a single mistake, I can make it.'"
"You wanted perfection—total, flawless execution. You wanted to leave no room for regret."
Peibo shrugged. "Even at death's door, you blamed yourself for not trying hard enough. Honestly, you're a damn lunatic."
Mike let out a breathless laugh. "So, tell me… did I ever get it perfect? Even once?"
"Not yet," Peibo shook his head. "You keep improving, and the number of mistakes is decreasing. But perfection? You haven't hit it."
"Then you must believe in me," Mike said, narrowing his eyes. "If I'm really that much of a screw-up, why keep helping me? Why start over every time?"
Peibo sighed, tossing his hands up in exasperation. "You think I want to? I regret it every single time! I don't even know why I took your stupid promise seriously. Now look at me—stuck in this infinite loop of helping your sorry ass."
"But you still do it."
Mike's voice dropped. This man in front of him—so carefree, always smiling—had witnessed countless failures. He had walked alongside Mike through god knows how many apocalypses, how many resets. And every time, he helped him try again.
"You've had it worse than I have."
Peibo paused, caught off guard.
"You really don't have to say stuff like that," he waved dismissively. "Every time you get this sentimental, you end up yelling at yourself even harder down the road."
"Why would I yell at myself?"
"You don't yell at me. You yell at yourself," Peibo grinned. "And trust me, it gets ugly."
"…What kind of stuff do I say?"
"You really don't wanna know. You've called yourself things I wouldn't say to my worst enemy."
At least Peibo didn't have to die. He wasn't the one waking up after every painful end.
But Mike…
He died. Over and over again. He felt every second of that agony, tried every time with all his strength—and still failed.
"Guess I'm an idiot," Mike murmured. "Still haven't gotten it right."
He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the tremble in his smile. "Okay. Let me get this straight."
"A broken save file. A decision to protect all of humanity. So tell me… not even once did I think about giving up?"
"That's the weird part," Peibo said, tilting his head and giving Mike a once-over. "You've reset so many times, but you never once entertained the idea of quitting."
"…Dude."
Peibo leaned in, staring Mike in the eyes. "Be honest—do you have some kind of masochistic complex?"
Mike arched a brow and took a step back. "And how exactly does that help me become more perfect?"
"It doesn't. First time I've asked. Just curious."
"I think I'm pretty normal."
Mike pushed Peibo away and forced himself to calm down again.
A few beats of silence passed before Mike spoke.
"So. Back to the point. I died in the end because I still couldn't break free from the apocalypse mechanism, right?"
Peibo was rifling through snacks and comics. "Yup. Died in quite a few creative ways, too."
Mike's eye twitched. "Honestly, up until recently, I thought the end-of-the-world scenarios were getting easier. The last few apocalypses were a joke."
Peibo turned to him, expression suddenly grave. "First mistake. Drop the arrogance."
"The apocalypse mechanism is way more terrifying than you think. I show up at the beginning of the fourth apocalypse cycle."
"The first ten? Those are just warm-ups. The real nightmares begin after that. Every tenth cycle, the difficulty spikes—exponentially."
He added coolly, "The early rounds lull you into a false sense of security. But that complacency? That's what killed you."
"No," Mike shook his head. "If it's increasing exponentially, Earth itself wouldn't survive! If Earth is gone, what am I supposed to protect? Dust?"
"Did I ever say Earth had to survive? Or that humanity would go extinct if Earth was gone?"
Peibo chuckled. "You forgot what the mechanism targets, didn't you? It's after the humans, not the planet. As long as one Earth-born human remains, it continues."
Mike froze.
The mechanism wouldn't stop until every last Earth human was dead.
So even if he was the last one left…
It would still keep coming.
That truth hit harder than he expected. And suddenly, it all made sense.
Why his future self fought so desperately. Why he could never stop, no matter the pain. Because the moment he stopped resisting…
He'd die.
"…So in the future… is Earth still around?"
Peibo shrugged, casually tearing open a bag of chips. "Sometimes. Sometimes not. Depends on your choices."
He waved the snack bag proudly. "You see these? Their position changes every restart. You're already affecting the future."
"Maybe one misplaced snack won't change the world," he added, "but it proves something: time isn't set. Each future is slightly different."
"Just like your deaths. Some are messy. Some are quick. Sometimes your head's the only thing left. Sometimes your arms survive. It's kind of fascinating, really."
Mike grimaced. "Can we not talk about my future deaths? It's… uncomfortable."
Hearing about your guaranteed deaths from someone eating chips like it's a sitcom rerun?
Yeah. Not great.
"…Fine. No more death talk."
Peibo smiled and went back to his snacks like nothing was wrong.
It felt like he didn't care—like he'd already written this version of Mike off as another inevitable failure.
Maybe he had.
Mike stared at him, trying to digest the dread swelling in his chest. But he didn't blame Peibo. How could he?
If anything, he respected the guy even more.
He knew one thing for sure: he couldn't give up on himself.
Because if this version of him failed again… would the next restart still be him?
Or just a copy?
A philosophical paradox with no clear answer.
Mike didn't want to know. He was afraid to know.
All he could do was breathe.
Then finally, he spoke again, voice rough but steady.
"Alright. The future is still far away. Let's start now—and do it right."
"I want to become stronger. Every correct step I take now brings me closer to what future-me was striving for."
He looked at Peibo seriously.
"There's something holding me back. That issue… it's him."
"You know who I'm talking about. Chen Yanshuo's benefactor. The man behind the scenes."
"You're from the future. You should know who he is, right?"
"Oh? Finally asking the real question."
Peibo crunched a chip, grinning. "You're twelve minutes earlier than last time. Nice improvement!"
Mike's expression turned cold. "Answer me, Wang Peibo."
This answer would determine everything.
"Of course I know who he is."
Mike's voice came sharp and fast: "Then who is he? Where is he? And how strong is he?!"