Charles' voice suddenly rang out from behind, sharp and commanding enough to snap a few people out of their murmurs.

Rad turned his head slightly, panting, his teeth gnashing audibly.

"You should go to a hospital," Charles continued firmly, his golden brows furrowing. "Get your hand treated before it gets worse."

Rad's breathing grew heavier, his glare wavering as he glanced once more at his ruined hand.

His shoulders trembled, his pride and fury battling against the excruciating pain.

Finally, with a reluctant nod, he turned away from Riley, his head lowered, as if avoiding the gazes that burned into him from all directions.

He started walking, cradling his broken hand against his chest.

The whispers of students followed him immediately, hushed but piercing.

Charles' eyes, however, narrowed slightly as they followed Rad's retreating figure. Slowly, he turned toward Riley, his sharp gaze locking onto him like a predator sizing up prey.

"You…" Charles began, his tone calm but layered with curiosity and something else Riley couldn't quite place. "What's your name?"

Riley blinked, a bit surprised by the question. After all the hostility, that was the last thing he expected.

"…Riley," he answered quietly.

Charles studied him for a brief moment before nodding. "It seems we had a misunderstanding."

His lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes flashing with a sharp glint. "Riley, I'll be going now."

He turned, his blonde spikes catching the sunlight as he walked away, his three companions following behind awkwardly, none daring to speak a word.

Just as he reached a short distance away, Charles stopped briefly, glancing back over his shoulder.

"I hope to see you around… Riley." he said, waving his hands at him with a warm smile.

And with that, he walked off, leaving Riley standing there, his heart still unsettled by what had just unfolded.

'He's just leaving… that's weird.' Riley thought.

His eyes followed Charles and the three who trailed behind him, their backs slowly fading into the crowd as if the entire confrontation had never happened.

The broken boy—Rad—was already clutching his mangled hand, his steps uneven as he followed after Charles, shoulders bent and head lowered.

But what truly gnawed at Riley wasn't Rad's pain or the murmurs still echoing around the gathering students—it was Charles' reaction.

It didn't fit.

Riley had expected something else. Something sharper. Something more violent.

He had expected Charles to flare up, to shout at him in that arrogant tone of his, to boast his family's name as though it were some divine shield that justified everything he did.

That was the kind of person Charles had always been—or at least, the kind of person Riley had known him to be.

A spoiled young master who bullied others without hesitation, someone who trampled weaker students just because he could.

But instead of anger, Charles had asked for his name.

Riley's thoughts tightened, his brow furrowing slightly as he remained standing amidst the muttering crowd.

He could still hear the whispers circling around him—some pitying Rad, others questioning what exactly had just happened, and a few keeping their distance from Riley as though he were some wild beast they didn't want to provoke.

There were already all sort of rumours about him in the school, and now it was only going to get worse.

However, he didn't care much for that, since none of this would matter at the end of the day.

He was only pondering Charles strange response.

Polite. That was the word. Too polite.

And to Riley of all people.

With his poor background, with no status or family worth flaunting, there should be no reason for Charles to show such politeness, much less friendliness.

Charles was not the type to lower his head, nor was he the type to let an insult—or in this case, a broken hand—slide without retaliation.

And yet here they were.

Riley's lips pressed together, his gaze growing distant as his thoughts turned inward. 'Perhaps I'm overthinking this?'

In his past life, Charles hadn't lived long past the opening of the first rift.

He and his family had traveled to Kindale for a vacation, which was also unfortunately where the first rift opened.

They were all wiped out by the mutated fanged boar, and just like that, the previously prestigious family were reduced to shredded corpses.

For a while, their deaths reigned on the news, but they were quickly forgotten as the world changed and evolved.

Now that he had killed the mutated fanged boar, he couldn't help but wonder—what would be his fate now?

Things were no longer the same. The moment he had struck it down, he knew the future he once remembered so clearly had already shifted.

In his past life, that beast had been the reason Charles and his family perished. But now… they were alive.

That meant the future was no longer certain.

Riley's chest rose and fell steadily, his gaze sinking as his thoughts churned. He wasn't too sure about anything anymore.

The future he once relied upon had already changed. Even if the first rift still opened, there was little chance it would open in Kindale again.

But if not there, then where?

His eyes flickered faintly as he thought about it, recalling the fragments of memory from his past life.

The rift had been the true beginning—the moment the world tilted on its axis, where ordinary life was drowned in chaos and blood.

The place it opened would decide the fate of millions.

And then there were people like Charles.

And Miranda.

Both had died far too early in his past life. Charles in Kindale, Miranda in the chaos that followed shortly after.

But now… that wasn't certain anymore.

"Where will the rift open this time? And what fate will follow people like them?" Riley muttered under his breath, his eyes losing focus as his mind swam.

He let out a quiet sigh, forcing the thoughts away. "I'll just figure it out…"

That had always been his way—step by step, adapting as needed. He never planned on relying too much on his knowledge of the future anyway.

It wasn't something to lean on too heavily. That future was a terrible one, a nightmare he had no desire to see unfold again.

He would use what he knew to his benefit, nothing more.

With that thought, Riley shifted his weight and slowly walked away, ignoring the eyes of the crowd that still lingered on him like gnats buzzing around an open wound.

"I always knew he was a thug…" one student whispered harshly, their voice carrying just enough for Riley to catch.

Another muttered with disdain, "Look at his clothes, so tattered… Poor guy shouldn't even be in this school. Doesn't belong here."

"Yeah," a third sneered under their breath. "He'll lose that scholarship soon anyway. Just wait and see."

The comments trickled through the air, sharp and cutting, but Riley didn't so much as glance at them. His steps remained steady, though his jaw tightened slightly.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue, his expression darkening.

'It seems my scholarship will be withdrawn soon,' he thought to himself, his eyes narrowing faintly.

Riley made his way to the classroom, ignoring the stares, whispers, and comments that followed him down the hall.

Each word that reached his ears was just another reminder of how out of place he looked here. Still, he didn't let it slow his steps.

The rest of the day at school was… awkward.

Students stole glances at him, whispering behind cupped hands whenever he walked past. Teachers seemed hesitant, some of them looking at him like he had suddenly grown fangs. No one dared to confront him directly, but the atmosphere around him felt heavy and suffocating.

He endured it in silence, keeping his head forward until the final bell rang.

*

A few days later…

Riley lay sprawled across his bed, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes gleamed faintly as he stared up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in his mind.

"Today is the day…" he thought to himself, the smirk growing wider. "The day the dungeon will finally open."

His body tensed with anticipation, and without another thought, he sprang upright.

As if waiting for that very moment, a familiar translucent screen materialized before his eyes.

[Do you wish to log back into the game?]

[Yes / No]

"Yes," Riley muttered, his voice steady, the smirk widening as his anticipation peaked.

The instant the word left his lips, his vision blurred. His body collapsed back onto his bed, his limbs heavy, his breathing calm.

When his eyes opened again, he was no longer in his room.

The air was different—the familiar atmosphere of Apocalypse wrapped around him like an old cloak. His lips curved faintly as he exhaled.

"Feels good to be back," he muttered, a slight smirk resting on his face.

He had landed in the exact same spot where he had logged out before. Around him, traders continued with their business, their voices carrying through the air as they shouted out prices and bargained with customers.

None of them reacted to his sudden appearance.

By now, they all knew about the existence of players—beings who could appear and disappear at will. To them, it had become normal.

Besides, players were their biggest customers. As long as coin flowed, they would never complain.

Riley lowered his gaze to his armor. The plates were still cracked, the fabric underneath torn and frayed from his last battle. Dirt and dried blood clung to the edges, making it look even worse under the sunlight.

He clicked his tongue and hissed under his breath.

"Tch… I should get this fixed first," he thought, his expression twisting slightly.