Global Apocalypse: My System Is Always AFK

Instance 6-Halloway’s warning signs, once the system pulled the full data, painted a considerably grimmer picture than Marrow’s had.

”Population eleven million,” Ethan read off the display Suresh had set up in the courtyard’s makeshift command tent, the exhaustion of the previous night’s rescue still sitting heavy in his limbs. ”Failure timeline estimated at eighteen hours, maybe less.”

”Eighteen hours,” Priya repeated. ”We barely made it to Marrow in time, and that was a single Instance. If there’s forty-six more behind this one, we don’t have the manpower to respond to each collapse individually as it happens.” ℯℯ𝘭.

”She’s right,” Malachar said, his earlier field experience clearly having sharpened his sense of scale rather than dulled it. ”This isn’t a rescue mission anymore. It’s a systemic failure across the entire network, and putting out fires one Instance at a time isn’t going to keep pace with how fast they’re igniting.”

Ethan rubbed his face, feeling the weight of the problem settle into something that demanded a fundamentally different approach than anything they’d tried so far. ”So we stop treating the symptoms and go find the actual cause. The system said every Instance’s terminal connects to a deeper layer we’ve never properly mapped. If that deeper layer is what’s actually under strain, patching individual terminals is just delaying the inevitable.”

[NOTICE: The system agrees with this assessment. It would like to note, however, that mapping and stabilizing the deeper layer directly is a considerably more dangerous undertaking than anything attempted so far in this story - including the Grinding’s trials themselves.]

”How dangerous,” Ethan asked.

[NOTICE: The system does not have complete data, because no living entity has ever attempted a full, deliberate descent into that layer before. Every prior encounter - the guardians beneath Earth’s courtyard, the failing terminal at Marrow - occurred at the shallow edges of that architecture. Going deeper, intentionally, toward whatever core structure is generating the strain affecting the entire network, means entering territory even the Origin Engine itself has limited visibility into.]

The courtyard went quiet at that admission, the sheer scale of the unknown settling over the gathered group.

”I’m going,” Ethan said, before anyone could object. ”Somebody needs to actually find the source of this, and I’ve got the best odds of surviving contact with whatever’s down there.”

The reaction was immediate and, predictably, unanimous in its disagreement.

”Absolutely not,” came the first response, and it wasn’t from anyone in the courtyard - it was relayed through the system from Director Voss’s office back on Earth’s own government channel, patched in the moment word of the plan reached official ears. ”You are not descending into an unmapped, undocumented layer of multiversal architecture with no support structure and no exit plan. That’s not caution, Mr. Verma, that’s recklessness dressed up as heroism.”

”With respect,” Ethan said, ”forty-seven worlds are currently at risk of the kind of collapse that killed however many people Instance 8-Velir lost. I don’t think ’wait for a better plan’ is actually available to us right now.”

”Then build a better plan faster,” Voss’s voice came back, sharp. ”You survived the Grinding by refusing to go in alone, by building trust, by relying on people around you instead of brute-forcing every crisis by yourself. Don’t abandon that lesson the first time the stakes get big enough to scare you into old habits.”

The words landed with more weight than Ethan expected, cutting through his instinctive urge to simply handle the problem the fastest way he knew how.

It was Suresh, standing quietly at the edge of the tent, who finally spoke into the tension. ”She’s right, you know. You keep saying you learned something down there, in those trials. Now’s the moment to actually prove it, instead of just saying it.”

Ethan looked at him, then around at the small, gathered group - Kael, arms crossed, clearly already resigned to whatever came next simply because Ethan was involved; Ren, quiet and watchful, weighing the situation with the same careful calculation she’d once applied to infiltration missions; the tea golem, parked nearby, having rolled itself into the tent at some point without anyone quite noticing, radiating an insistence that it, too, intended to be part of whatever happened next.

”You want to come,” Ethan said slowly, looking at all of them.

”We’re not letting you go alone,” Kael said simply. ”You didn’t let me face my own reckoning alone. Seems only fair.”

”I’ve infiltrated places considerably more hostile than an unmapped ancient archive,” Ren added. ”If there’s danger down there, I’d rather be there to see it coming than hear about it secondhand.”

Suresh didn’t say anything at all - just picked up his clipboard, the universal signal that he’d already decided he was coming and didn’t feel the need to debate it further.

The tea golem simply rolled closer to Ethan’s side, and stayed there.

The team that finally assembled at the terminal chamber that evening looked, by any objective measure, wildly unsuited to descending into unmapped ancient architecture - a former janitor turned sanctuary administrator, a reformed hunter and a former assassin, a machine built primarily to brew tea, and Ethan himself, still exhausted from the previous night’s crisis at Marrow.

”This is not what I’d call a tactically sound expedition roster,” Priya said, watching them prepare with visible unease.

”It’s the roster of people who actually built the thing worth protecting,” Ethan said. ”If I’m gonna go find out what’s breaking down there, I want the people who understand why any of this matters standing next to me when I do it.”

Kaia, staying behind to coordinate with the Threshold Accord’s own emergency response teams, gripped Ethan’s arm briefly before he stepped toward the terminal. ”Be careful. Whatever’s down there has been quietly failing for centuries without anyone noticing. That’s not a small thing to walk into blind.”

”I know,” Ethan said. ”I’m hoping the whole ’not going in alone’ thing actually pays off this time.”

The terminal’s golden light rose to meet them, and the corridor it opened wasn’t the familiar path to the Deep Layer’s throne room they’d walked before - it stretched differently this time, deeper, darker at the edges, gold-violet light flickering with the same unstable, strained quality Ethan had witnessed in Marrow’s failing chamber.

[NOTICE: The system would like to confirm, before the descent fully begins, that it has detected something troubling about this particular corridor.]

Ethan paused at the threshold. ”What.”

[NOTICE: Unlike every prior transit corridor the subject has used, this one does not appear to have a clearly defined endpoint. The system cannot confirm where, precisely, this path will actually lead - only that it descends toward the source of the network-wide strain, wherever and whatever that source actually is.]

Ethan looked back once at the courtyard behind him - Kaia’s worried expression, the assembled delegations watching in tense silence, the ordinary evening sky stretching calm and untroubled above a world that had no idea how close it might have come to disaster, over and over, without ever fully realizing it.

Then he turned back to the flickering corridor, gathered the small, trusted group around him, and stepped forward into the dark.