~~~

  The sensation made Jin freeze, his breath catching in his throat.

  His Mantle pulsed again.

  Interesting.

  Jin filed that away for later analysis, adding it to his growing list of "weird Mantle shit I need to figure out, eventually." Right now, he had more pressing concerns.

  Like not dying in the next few hours when reality decided to go to hell.

  He moved back to his room, his hands working with efficiency born from two years of managing pain medications and treatment schedules. Everything had its place. Everything had its purpose. Organization wasn't just helpful—it was survival.

  Protocol. Make a list. Execute the list. Don't think about the bigger picture until you've secured the basics.

  o______o

  ? Armor: check.

  ? Weapons: check.

  ? Supplies: check.

  ? Healing: check.

  ? Cash: check.

  o______o

  Jin's gaze drifted to the city map mounted on his wall—one of the few decorative things the original Jin had bothered with, probably because it was actually useful for planning dungeon runs.

  Vienna stretched across the paper in intricate detail. Streets, districts, landmarks all labeled with careful precision. The original Jin had marked several locations with different colored pens: training halls in blue, equipment shops in green, dungeon entrances in red.

  But Jin's eyes tracked to one location the original had left unmarked.

  The Cathedral of Prime.

  His fingers traced the building's location in the city center, and something tugged at his memories. Something important. Something that felt like it should be right there in his mind—like a word on the tip of his tongue—but kept slipping away like water through fingers the moment he tried to grasp it.

  Why does that location feel important? What am I forgetting?

  The frustration burned. He knew something about the Cathedral. Something from the novel. Something from the appendices or the side stories or the worldbuilding materials that most readers had skipped because they were "boring exposition."

  But the details wouldn't surface. Just that nagging feeling of importance without any context to explain it.

  He pulled out a pen and marked the Cathedral with a bold red circle, pressing hard enough that the ink bled through slightly.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  "Instinct says this matters." His voice came out as a mutter. "Don't know why yet, but..."

  His Mantle pulsed again as he touched the mark on the map—that same strange recognition he'd felt with the healing potion. The Harvest Boon resonating with something about that location, like it sensed an opportunity there.

  File that away too. Figure it out later when I'm not on a countdown to citywide annihilation.

  First rule of survival: prioritize immediate threats before long-term problems. I learned that in chemo. Applies here too.

  Jin stepped back from the map, surveying his preparations with a critical eye that would've made his oncologist proud.

  He looked like someone ready for war. Armor fitted properly and tested for mobility. Enchanted weapons secured—pistol holstered, sword strapped to his belt. Pack loaded with supplies organized by priority and accessibility. Healing potion tucked away safely in the most protected pocket.

  Not bad for someone who'd woken up in a doomed city less than an hour ago with no warning and a splitting headache.

  I survived two years of cancer by breaking survival down into manageable steps. This is just another problem. Just another protocol to execute.

  Step one: Don't die in the initial chaos when the calamity hits.

  Step two: Figure out what's actually happening to Vienna beyond the vague novel description.

  Step three: Find a way to survive ninety-one days in what's basically a hell dimension.

  NOTE: Would it take 91 days for the cult to kill everyone, or would their task take 91 days? Too little info. The author was frustratingly vague about the mechanics.

  Step four: Profit? Maybe? Hopefully not die horribly?

  Step five: Figure out how to save the world from the ending in ten years.

  Jin caught his reflection in the window glass, and barely recognized himself.

  The pale blue eyes staring back no longer looked terrified. No longer looked like someone waiting passively for death to arrive. The set of his jaw was different. The way he held his shoulders. The energy that radiated from his stance.

  He looked ready.

  "Alright, Jin." He grinned at his reflection, feeling something fierce and bright kindle in his chest. "You've got your gear. You've got your knowledge. You've got your cancer-survivor stubbornness and two years of experience refusing to die."

  The original heroes failed because they were too busy being heroes. Too busy with their egos and their prophecies and their 'chosen one' bullshit to actually think tactically.

  I'm not a hero. Never wanted to be one. I'm just a guy who refuses to die twice.

  That's gonna have to be enough.

  Warning bells began to toll across Vienna.

  Not the usual melodic chimes that marked the hour with pleasant musical precision. These bells rang with desperate, discordant clanging that made Jin's teeth ache and his stomach drop like he'd missed a step going down stairs.

  Emergency bells. Warning bells. The kind of sound cities made when something had gone catastrophically wrong and everyone needed to know about it right now.

  There it is. The first warnings, I should still have at least three hours before shit hits the fan.

  Jin moved to the window, pressing his palms against the cool glass as he watched the dark veils pulse in the distance.

  They'd crept noticeably closer in the time he'd spent looting the apartment—geometric shadows spreading across Vienna's skyline like spilled ink on pristine paper, but wrong. Too purposeful. Too hungry in the way they moved and pulsed and reached toward the city center.

  Ninety-one days. That's how long the veil lasts in the novel. Ninety-one days before investigation teams could finally breach it and find nothing but craters and corpses and nightmares that defied classification.

  He'd spent years dying in a hospital bed. Watching his body fail system by system. Feeling hope drain away one chemo session at a time while doctors ran out of treatment options and Ren ran out of comforting lies to tell him.

  Ninety-one days of fighting in a doomed city?

  Jin's smile felt sharp. Dangerous. The kind of expression that would've scared his old self.

  "I've already done harder..." He paused, then grinned wider. "But first, let me grab a beer and chill."

  These are probably the last moments of relaxation I'm gonna get for a while.

  ~~~

  BAU BAU~

  ? ? ?