Prologue: The Last Player

Prologue: The Last Player

There was no warning.

No sirens, no countdown, no final broadcast to unite humanity in defiance. Just light—blinding, burning light that carved through the clouds like the judgment of a forgotten god.

Then darkness.

Cities crumbled. Satellites blinked out. The Internet died, and along with it, the illusion that we were in control.

Seventeen billion people vanished overnight.

The rest of us—those unlucky or lucky enough to remain—woke up to a world rewritten by rules that didn't belong.

The System Interface Online. Welcome, User.

Initialization complete. You have been assigned: [Classless].

Error: No Archetype Detected.

Installing Prototype…

Welcome to Ascension Protocol (Alpha ver. 0.1.7 - UNSTABLE)

I wasn't supposed to survive.

But the system didn't care about who was ready. It chose randomly, cruelly. I was just a kid with a broken leg, trapped in the ruins of a hospital, watching the world glitch into something else.

That was three years ago.

Now, the cities are dungeons. Forests breathe. Rivers whisper things you shouldn't hear. People don't die when you kill them—they respawn in corrupted fragments. And the sky is a HUD no one can turn off.

Most players got a path. A class. A purpose.

Me? I got a bugged system that rewrites itself every time I level up.

And I'm still here.

Still standing.

Still climbing.

They call me The Last Player.

But this isn't a game.

This is war.