The sound of my flowerpot smashing had caught Sophie's attention. She walked over, and I instinctively glanced at her… but—damn! Still no X-ray vision.

  Fine, whatever. No X-ray vision, no problem. Sophie leaned on the windowsill and peered down."You're amazing"she said, before turning back into the room. As she walked away, she added,"I need to check the news on your computer, see if there's any explanation for this mess." We haven't even seen a single cop yet. I'll also try calling my relatives in other cities— to see if this is happening everywhere.”

  I didn't respond. My mind was occupied with something far more important: If I threw down a few more flowerpots and took out more zombies, wouldn't that get me another level-up? And if I leveled up again, I'd unlock even stronger skills! But obviously, this wasn't the kind of thing I could share with anyone. Instead, I just nodded and said, “Sure, go check the news.”

  Sophie walked inside, and I grabbed the last flowerpot in my apartment. Inside was a small cactus I had cared for over the past three years. I looked at it, muttering, “I've taken care of you for so long… time for you to shine.”

  I looked at the loudest zombie below and hurled the cactus down with all my strength.

  BOOM! Direct hit! I let out a triumphant yell as I watched a small glowing orb float up from the dead zombie’s corpse, drifting toward me.

  Wait, what? I had just killed two zombies earlier, but they didn't drop anything. Did I miss it, or was there some sort of pattern here? Before I could figure it out, my eyes flicked toward my study—and my heart nearly stopped.

  Sophie was sitting at my desk, staring at my computer screen in utter shock.

  Oh. Crap.

  I bolted over, already knowing what she was looking at. Sure enough, my desktop wallpaper was an entire slideshow of a certain famous Japanese model’s beach photoshoot—changing every ten seconds. And if that wasn't bad enough, my neatly organized desktop folders had names like Korean Censored, Japanese Restricted, Obscure Documentaries or Foreign Cinema Archives…

  I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Uh… the browser isn't on the desktop. You’ll find it inside ‘Japanese Restricted.’”

  Sophie turned around so quickly, her face was as red as a tomato fresh off the vine. "You shameless pervert!" She snapped, waving her arms as if to embarrassingly shoo him away.

  I sheepishly shuffled out of the room. Just as I reached the door, I remembered something and turned back. “Oh, by the way, my internet phone is in the folder called Burning Passion of Brotherhood.”

  Before I could even blink, she grabbed a mousepad and hurled it at me. I ducked out, quickly shutting the door behind me.

  With a sigh, I picked up my TV and headed back to the window. Welp… whatever little good impression I had left in Sophie's mind was officially gone.

  For the record, my desktop was all for show. There was nothing actually inappropriate in those folders. It was all my idiot best friend Ares's idea. He once said, “A desktop like this gives off a man of culture vibe. It shows depth.” Yeah, depth. If I ever saw him again, I was going to make him pay for this.

  Speaking of which… was he even still alive?

  Ares and I were both hardcore homebodies. We all accept this title so much that neither of us owns a phone anymore. Last year, we had both broken our phones around the same time, but since we spent most of our lives in front of our computers anyway, we never bothered getting new ones. Fun fact: when I checked my phone bill at the end of the year, I realized I had used less than ten bucks—just enough to cover the monthly service fee.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Shaking off the thought, I carried my TV to the windowsill and lit a toothpick like a cigarette. Then, in the most dramatic voice I could muster, I yelled:

  “HELP! I'M BEING ATTACKED!”

  As expected, every zombie in the area snapped their heads up at me. The ones that had started wandering off quickly returned, moaning and snarling, their hands flailing as if desperate to “embrace” me.

  With utter calmness, I pulled out a comb and a small mirror, casually running the comb through my hair as I stole glances at the horde below. Then, I nodded slowly and thoughtfully to them with a pure silly laugh.

  Ah, yes. The mark of a true master.

  I smirked to myself as I gazed into the mirror. The reflection staring back at me was a pale, somewhat frail-looking face—hardly surprising, given how little sunlight I got. My hairstyle vaguely resembled a certain celebrity's, though my eyes were larger and brighter. At 5'8"and weighing only 58 kilograms, I looked like someone who spent way too much time indoors and not enough time eating. I couldn't help but chuckle self-deprecatingly.

  With a light push, I sent my TV—an old 43-inch LCD—plummeting down from the windowsill.

  BOOM! Perfect!

  Damn, that thing was sturdy. It took out three zombies in one go. My eyes stayed locked on their corpses, and just as expected, a small glowing orb floated up.

  Wait a second… three kills, but only one orb?

  As the orb merged into my body, a wave of warmth spread through me—a strangely pleasant sensation. I was about to ponder it further when that robotic voice echoed in my mind once again:

  “As one of the ‘Chosen’ in the Third Evolution Epoch, you have the right to ask three questions. I will provide answers three times.”

  I calmed down immediately. I don't want to make the same mistake as those silly protagonists in novels who waste the first question on a clueless "What?" Only to let the system repeat itself, wasting an opportunity to ask questions.

  Thinking carefully, I skipped the obvious questions like “Who are you?” or “Why are people turning into zombies?” Instead, I asked, “Tell me about this ‘Evolution Epoch’ you mentioned.”

  If my guess was right, this one question alone should get the robot to spill everything. Pretty clever of me, huh?

  The robotic voice responded, devoid of emotion:

  “The universe consists of six dimensions, each forming its own separate space. Your dimension—the Sixth Realm—is the most recently created. The ‘Evolution Epoch’ is a biological advancement initiative launched by the First Realm. Your evolution has been progressing far too slowly, so in order to accelerate it, we introduced a crisis. Only through crisis does true evolution occur.

  The First Evolution Epoch began when the Sixth Realm was newly formed, at a time when no life existed. That cycle gave rise to what you call dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were nearly perfect organisms, but they were wiped out by a massive catastrophe.

  Thus, the First Realm initiated the Second Evolution Epoch, evolving apes into humans. However, humanity's evolutionary path has strayed too far from the original biological trajectory. As a result, the First Realm was forced to initiate the Third Evolution Epoch.”

  The voice continued:

  “During each Evolution Epoch, one million ‘Evolution Seeds’ are randomly distributed. Those who obtain them become ‘Chosen.’ The Evolution Seed is what you see—the glowing orbs. If a Chosen dies, their Evolution Seed merges into whoever killed them. The seed can enhance physical abilities or be transferred to others, though doing so halves its energy. This concludes the explanation of the Evolution Epoch.”

  I had most of the answers I needed now. A thought crossed my mind—could I save my remaining two questions for later? But I didn’t dare ask, in case it actually used up a question.

  So instead, I went with my next priority: “What’s the deal with the skills in my mind?”

  The robot's voice replies, "Each selected person will develop unique skills based on their physical characteristics." The chosen one will not have the same skills.

  Then it fell silent.

  That's it? That's all I get?

  I wanted to ask, “Seriously? That's all?”—but I didn't dare risk another smug “That's all” from the damn thing.

  Wait… was this thing messing with me on purpose? Did they know I was trying to game the system? Was it deliberately giving me vague answers to waste my questions?

  I needed a smarter approach. A question so structured that the robot can't avoid answering it.

  “What's the fastest way to level up? And you can't answer if there isn't one!”

  Silence.

  Aha! Now it had to give me a real answer. I could almost taste victory.

  Then, after a long pause, the robotic voice replied with three words that shattered my soul:

  “There isn't one.”