Chapter 61: [Do not open!!!] - Genetic Extra In The Apocalypse - NovelsTime

Genetic Extra In The Apocalypse

Chapter 61: [Do not open!!!]

Author: LightspeedX001
updatedAt: 2026-01-10

CHAPTER 61: [DO NOT OPEN!!!]

[Don’t purchase! Skip to next two Chapters, thank you.]

After I woke up from my slumber, I felt pain in my chest—right where the sigil was. When I checked, I could feel it, but slowly... it started to fade, like it was never there to begin with.

I touched my chest with my stubby hands just to be sure, struggling with my weak body to get it within my clothes.

I found nothing though. It became obvious that it was gone.

I decided to ignore it—for now—but I couldn’t shake the unease brewing at the back of my mind.

Then the door creaked open, and she entered again.

The woman who had nursed me before I slept.

My "mother" in this world.

Still dressed like royalty. Still radiating that same quiet pressure that made the air feel... still.

She glided over to my crib like a ghost in silk, speaking softly in a language I couldn’t understand. At first, it was all noise. But as I strained to listen, a sudden pain bloomed in my chest. My ears rang with static.

Then—like a broken radio tuning in—I heard something.

"...Ar...ien... m-my... son."

Huh. Looks like my new name in this world is Ar’ien.

There was a creak from the door again, and it was pushed open.

This time, it wasn’t the soft glide of a woman’s footsteps so it couldn’t be the maid. Rather, it was heavier, firm, and confident.

A man came into the range of my vision; tall, broad-shouldered, black hair cut short like a soldier. Typical generic look of an army general or something along those lines, his eyes scanning the space with the ease of someone used to command.

"Ar’i-en," he said, his voice deep and calm. "Oh, you’re awake."

’This should be my father in this world huh?’

He looked like a man who had seen hell on the battlefield. I’d bet he could strangle a wyvern into submission. Not that I’ve ever seen one before, I don’t even know why I chose that analogy.

He walked over to my crib and lifted me like I weighed nothing. His arms were solid not like a king’s, more like a soldier forced to pretend he was one.

"He’s calmer today," he said, handing me off to my mother. "Maybe it’s time he got some fresh air."

My "mother" nodded.

"Just for a few minutes. The garden, perhaps."

As we strolled through the mansion’s halls on our way to the garden, my eyes wandered. The house was massive with paintings, chandeliers, polished floors, golden decor.

Rich people stuff.

One painting in particular caught my eye. It depicted a figure holding both a book and a scythe.

Weird combo.

I frowned internally, but shrugged it off.

The sky rumbled all of a sudden, and my mother paused, a wave of gentle cold breeze greeting our skin the next second.

From the periphery of my gaze, I could make out grey clouds moving in the sky, through the open window. It didn’t take more than two seconds before heavy droplets came down, tapping against the window.

"Another time," my mother said, gently turning around.

’Damn. I was looking forward to that walk.’

We headed back to my room, and while my face was still baby-smooth and expressionless, on the inside?

I was filled with disappointment.

’I finally get to stretch my eyes and legs beyond the crib bars and the weather hits me with a "nope." Classic.’

Still, the short walk was enough to confirm one thing.

’This house? Yeah, it definitely belonged to a rich man.’

Big hallways, glowing stones in the walls, and enough paintings of important-looking dead people to host an art gallery.

’Not bad, reincarnation gods. Not bad at all.’

That night, I waited for the dream to come again.

The sigil, as well as the masked man in that damning void.

But to my grateful surprise, it was a dreamless night, with none of that happening.

And it stayed that way.

---

✦ Six Years Later ✦

Well, skip to six years later since I died and woke up in this world.

I haven’t had the nightmares in the past six years, and as for the sigil... it was still burned into my memory, but asides that, it had never glowed again.

Not even once. At some point, I stopped checking entirely... well, kind of.

Instead, I focused on understanding the world around me.

Language was the first hurdle. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. I was never good at foreign languages, even in my old life. Even french class back on Earth was a hurdle I barely passed with an E.

But eventually, with enough eavesdropping, scribbling, and frustration, I got it.

I could read. I could write. I could even talk... Somewhat.

Every time I spoke, my voice was soft and weak. It always felt like my lungs weren’t trying hard enough. So I only spoke when necessary.

Most people assumed I was just a quiet noble kid. They weren’t so wrong though.

During my free time, if I wasn’t studying the world or practicing the language, I was outside in the back garden, fishing in the koi pond or doing push-ups under the big tree.

As for why... Well, that was because I’ve read enough isekai stories to know that if you don’t start training at six, some arrogant rich kid with a magic fork is going to mop the floor with you later.

And also... I was bored.

There was no mysterious monsters, no secret tutors, no masked guy whispering bout time and stuff. Just me, nature, books, and push-ups. It was really boring considering how wealthy I was supposed to be.

So I made myself a daily routine:

Morning: Stretching and air breathing exercises.

Midday: Read or observe the manor staff... Don’t ask me why I was doing the latter.

Afternoon: Practice swordsmanship... or what I thought was swordsmanship.

Evening: More reading, note-taking, and reflection under the tree.

Was it effective? Not really... I mean, I could probably do 40 push-ups straight without crying now. So that’s something.

But I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t magical nor was I on possession of any kind of magic... at least none that that o could think of, and I definitely wasn’t ready.

It was more than strange, but I would gladly accept it more than being thrust into something like a war, when I was oddly unprepared.

One sunny afternoon, while I was in the garden doing my usual boring routine, a maid I knew well came running.

Her name was Maya. The woman assigned to watch over me since babyhood. She was kind, patient, and always trying to get me to play with other noble kids.

"Young master," she said, breathless. "Your mother has requested to see you. It’s urgent."

My face scrunched in confusion. That was strange. Usually, she’d send a page, or she’d just come herself.

I stood, wiped my hands on my trousers, and followed Maya down the hall.

Asides from this being strange, there was nothing else to point out from the situation at all. But something was coming... I could feel it.

Little did I know, that the peaceful life I’d carved out for myself was about to end.

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