The Spare's Second Chance in Apocalypse
Chapter 315: Ch 314: It’s time to Rest- Part 1

Chapter 315: Ch 314: It’s time to Rest- Part 1

The cliffs were quiet in the mornings.

Mist rolled in from the sea, soft and cool, wrapping the jagged edges of the earth in a white hush.

Far below, waves crashed against the rocks in a rhythm Selene had grown to know — not as noise, but as breath.

The earth inhaled and exhaled with the ocean. And she stood still at the edge, letting that calm wash through her.

The wind tangled her hair, lifting it gently. She didn’t move to fix it. There was no need anymore. No eyes watching. No expectations to meet.

Behind her, the wooden door creaked open.

’This feels so good. The world is so quiet and peaceful. Have I ever felt like this before the apocalypse? I wish this feeling would last forever.’

Selene opened her eyes as she took in the calmness before her.

Ethan stepped out, cup of tea in hand.

His shirt hung loose over his shoulder, his hair still messy from sleep. He blinked against the light, glanced around until he saw her standing by the cliff.

"You’re up early."

He murmured, joining her.

"You always say that."

She replied with a faint smile, not looking at him.

He passed her the cup. She took it without a word.

They stood side by side in silence, watching the sea stretch out toward the horizon.

There were no monsters now. No alerts. No system pings or dungeon ruptures. Just clouds that hung low and quiet.

"You dreamed of it again."

Ethan said after a moment.

Selene’s grip tightened slightly on the cup.

"Not the worst one. But... it’s always there."

"Yeah."

It had been a year since the final battle — since Ethan had reached into her mind and pulled her back from the brink, since the entity that had tried to rewrite the world had been sealed, and since the system had fractured and faded.

No one called her a savior now. Or a destroyer. J

ust "Selene."

That was enough.

They had chosen this place together — a lonely cliffside in what was once neutral land, far from the old capitals, far from rebuilt cities.

The house was small. One floor, two rooms. A garden out back, stubborn vegetables learning to grow in soil still rich with mana.

Selene spent her days tending it, reading, walking by the shore.

Ethan fished. Badly. But he tried.

Some days they didn’t speak at all. Others, they talked for hours about the future. A quiet one. One with no glory, no fate. Just breath and presence.

He turned to look at her now, studying her face the way he always did when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

"You look more like yourself every day."

He said.

She glanced at him.

"And what does that mean?"

He shrugged.

"Less haunted. Less... like you’re about to disappear."

Selene didn’t respond. But her gaze softened, and her free hand brushed against his. His fingers curled around hers.

Sometimes, the wind carried memories.

Of Luke’s final smile. Of the third Ethan who had faded to bring her back. Of Noah and Nora’s quiet strength. Of Zara’s iron voice commanding the last stand.

She didn’t speak those names often anymore. But they lived inside her. Not like burdens, but like anchors.

She had hurt the world. She had nearly destroyed it. But she had also come back. And in that, she found a strange kind of peace.

Ethan squeezed her hand.

"I think the tomatoes are finally growing."

He said, changing the subject.

She blinked, then smiled.

"You’re just saying that because I let you name the plants."

"Captain Crunch is thriving."

"Captain Crunch is a pepper."

"Then I’ve been watering the wrong one."

Selene let out a soft laugh — not bitter or sarcastic, but real. The kind that came without guilt.

It had taken months for her to feel that again.

"You know, if someone told me years ago that I’d end up on a cliff, drinking tea, with you of all people—"

She said, leaning into his side.

"I’d have thought they were hallucinating."

Ethan finished.

"Exactly."

They stood like that for a while, letting the morning warm the mist away.

Below, the waves kept rising and falling. And above, the clouds slowly parted, letting light stretch across the sea.

"You think we’ll ever be called back?"

Selene asked quietly.

Ethan didn’t answer right away.

"I think if the world ever needs us again... we’ll know. But until then, I think we’re allowed to just be."

She looked at him, then nodded once.

"I’d like that."

The tea had gone cold, but she didn’t care.

In this new world, there were no titles.

No quests. No heroes or monsters. Just Selene and Ethan, side by side at the edge of everything, watching the future roll in like the tide.

And for the first time in a long time, they weren’t waiting for the next battle.

They were waiting for breakfast.

______

The central tower of the Coalition Defense Bureau pierced the clouds, its silver-and-black spire gleaming under the sun that had finally remembered how to shine.

Inside, the command floor buzzed with quiet tension.

Old monitors still flickered with sensor data, though they no longer connected to the system.

Rebuilt satellites patrolled the skies, manually programmed and maintained. Drones hummed above outposts like wasps. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

Because they made it work.

Zara stood at the edge of the situation table, arms crossed, coat draped over one shoulder like a cape. Her presence alone was enough to silence most rooms, and this one was no exception.

Across from her, Orion adjusted the settings on a half-dead console, bringing up a grainy live feed of Sector 6 — another outpost now thriving under his watch.

The people had power, clean water, food rotations. All of it thanks to structure. Precision. Fear, if necessary.

"There’s still movement in the Black Barrens. Residual mana. Not enough to breach, but enough to worry me."

Orion said, tapping the screen.

Zara didn’t blink.

"Send a drone. If it reacts, we quarantine the zone."

"Already done."

The room was full of sub-commanders, tacticians, and envoys.

They looked from Zara to Orion and back again, waiting for approval, waiting for a reason to move or stand down.

Even without the system’s oversight, its rules, its points and rankings — this felt no different. The weight of hierarchy remained.

Zara liked it that way.

Orion turned toward her after a moment of scanning the data.

"You ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"The system. The clarity. The threat. The enemy."

Zara gave a cold smile.

"It’s still here. It just wears a different face now."

He didn’t disagree.

When the system had shattered, most of the world had panicked.

The foundation of reality — status, level, progression — had vanished overnight. Some people rejoiced. Others rioted. A few factions tried to seize the void left behind.

Zara and Orion had crushed them within weeks.

No mercy. No apologies.

People learned quickly that the world didn’t need the system anymore.

It had them.

Orion walked beside her as they exited the command floor, boots echoing down the steel corridor. "You know, the ministers still think you’re planning a takeover."

"They’re not wrong."

She replied.

"You’re kidding."

Zara paused, casting him a sidelong look.

"Am I?"

Orion grinned.

"Gods, I don’t know if I love or fear you more."

"That’s the point."

Their footsteps led them to the observation deck.

Below, the sprawl of the capital stretched endlessly — new buildings rising where craters had once scarred the earth.

Children played in parks that had been battlegrounds. Civilians planted gardens in ground once soaked with blood.

Progress. Hard-earned. Fragile.

"We built this."

Zara said quietly.

Orion nodded.

"And we’re going to keep it."

There was a long silence.

The world hadn’t ended. That much was true.

But it had changed in ways no one fully understood. People mutated. Mana behaved unpredictably. Some zones were still sealed, others warped beyond logic.

But it kept turning.

Because they refused to let it stop.

"We’ll need new protocols soon. The borderlands are growing restless."

Orion said.

Zara’s voice remained calm.

"Then we remind them why they listen."

And they would.

Zara hadn’t asked to lead, but she’d never been afraid to.

She wasn’t interested in parliaments or votes or fragile declarations of peace. She believed in movement. In fire. In threat management through control and competence.

Orion leaned against the glass, arms folded.

"You ever wonder what Selene and Ethan are doing right now?"

Zara shrugged.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"If they’re alive, they’re resting. They earned it."

"And us?"

Zara looked back at the city — her city now, whether anyone admitted it or not.

"We keep the world from tearing itself apart while they sleep."

Somewhere, far beyond the clouds, a satellite pinged. Just once.

Orion looked toward the console.

Zara narrowed her eyes.

The world hadn’t ended.

But the shadows hadn’t left, either.

And if another threat came?

They would be ready.