Ruins of Korea, Year 5 of the Auction System. 

It rained cinders that day.

Not ashes. Cinders. Glowing red, still hot—like the sky was trying to cauterise the wound Earth had become.

Yoon Jiyon limped through the crumbling mall atrium, past charred mannequins and cracked glass, clutching a rusted crowbar and a half-charged stun grenade. His boots squelched on melted linoleum. One eye was swollen shut. The other watched the sky.

Not because of the weather.
Because he was waiting for the countdown.

[Auction Countdown: 00:01:38]

It hovered in the air, his head like a goddamn price tag.

A voice crackled from a broken public terminal nearby, the same voice that had haunted humanity for the past five years—too cheerful, too clean:

“You are watching: THE FINAL AUCTION!”
“Today’s featured item: ‘Soul of the Last Survivor – Class: Unique, One-of-One.’”

“Oh good,” Yoon Jiyon muttered. “That’d be me.”

He collapsed onto an overturned food court table, bones aching. Somewhere far away, the last military drones were shrieking. Firestorms bloomed over the skyline like infected flowers.

Yoon Jiyon dug into his coat and pulled out a ragged notepad, pages barely clinging. On it were names, crossed out one by one. Friends. Allies. Enemies. Fools. Gods.

He flipped to the last page. His name. Yoon Jiyon.
No need to cross it. The System would handle that.

[00:00:42]

Five years ago, some corporate-looking bastard in the sky offered the first Auction Item:
“Fireball Spell, Common Tier, Starting Bid: One Finger.”

Humanity laughed.
Then humanity bided.

Now the rich were monsters, the poor were monsters, and the monsters were still monsters—but with better gear.

Yoon Jiyon had scammed, clawed, and killed his way to the end. He’d learned the System's tricks. He knew every upcoming bid, every overpowered artefact. He’d tried to out-cheat the cheaters.

But in the end, they still won.

The gods, the other Regressors, the Chosen.
Yoon Jiyon? He was just a man with no bids left to make.

[00:00:03]
[00:00:02]
[00:00:01]

The sky tore open.

A golden gavel the size of a skyscraper came down from the clouds.
It slammed through the city with a sound like God cashing out.

The voice sang:

“Final Item sold to: ARCHON-ZETA, Highest Deity-Class Bidder. Congratulations!”
“Auction Complete.”

Yoon Jiyon didn’t flinch. He grinned.

“Bet you paid too much, you glowing bastard,” he muttered. “My soul’s got lousy resale value.”

And then he died.

[SYSTEM ERROR: AUCTION OVERLOAD DETECTED]
[INITIATING REWIND PROTOCOL…]

He woke up gasping.

Not on fire. Not in ash.
In a cramped apartment. With hot ramen in front of him.

A TV blared in the background:

“Breaking news! Experts baffled by strange golden particle storms above the Himalayas—”

His phone buzzed.

A push notification:

"AUCTION SYSTEM: Welcome, New User. First Item Unlocks in 7 Days."

Yoon Jiyon stared.
Laughed once.

Then grabbed a pen.

“If the world’s gonna burn,” he said, “this time I’m selling the matches.”