A Guide to Humanity’s Extinction

Early on this holiday morning, Ke Mingqing slowly cracked open an eye.

He saw the first rays of morning sunlight, the mildew-spotted ceiling, and... the notification panel hovering over his head like maggots clinging to a rotting bone.

[Good morning. A new day has arrived, Red Name Player ”Ke Mingqing”.]

[The current time is 07:00 on September 22, Saturday morning. The time limit for the Exterminate Superhumans task has exactly 97 days, 17 hours, and 0 minutes remaining.]

Ke Mingqing lay on his back, staring silently at the prompt.

A moment later, he raised a brow. His half-awake brain finally registered that something was off, and a hint of suspicion and surprise crept into his eyes.

”Weird...” he muttered. ”Today’s Broadcast seems awfully lethargic. Why did the system suddenly wilt?”

Ke Mingqing had been tormented by the system’s venomous tongue for a full month now.

Every morning, the moment he opened his eyes, a line of bright red insults would sear itself into his retinas, accompanied by the system reading the text aloud in her cold, rational voice.

It was like having a cup of unsweetened iced Americano dumped over his head—a sensation that left him simultaneously drenched and burning.Even if he squeezed his eyes shut, taped his eyelids down, or yelled, ”Don’t read that, those are swear words!” he couldn’t escape the humiliation. It was nothing short of an obedience test.

At first, it only pissed Ke Mingqing off. Later, he realized the feeling was actually rather invigorating. By now, it had become an indispensable new biological clock for him.

But just as he had finally gotten used to it, the system’s drastic shift in tone today felt like a toxic, sharp-tongued girlfriend suddenly transforming into a polite, respectful literary maiden.

Therefore, Ke Mingqing found a perfectly valid excuse to stay in bed.

”If I don’t get cursed at, I don’t get up.”

With that thought, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Half an hour later, he slowly sat up and stretched hard, his joints popping with a series of sharp cracks.

Rubbing his temples, Ke Mingqing rested his elbows on the bright windowsill and tilted his head to look outside.

Under the faint blue, clear sky of autumn, a black cat dashed past a telephone pole with a banana in its mouth. Students in blue-and-white uniforms crossed the black-and-white crosswalk, clutching pineapple buns.

Ke Mingqing couldn’t help but reflect that there were barely a hundred days left until the Extinction deadline, yet the world before his eyes seemed utterly ordinary, no different from any other day.

Perhaps it was because the hundred players hidden across the globe weren’t like super saplings basking in the sun, noticeably shooting up every day—saplings like that risked being snapped at any moment.

On the contrary, they lay dormant in the soil. Only when they grew into towering giants like the World Tree of Norse mythology would they break through the earth, casting shadows that could blot out the sun.

It was worth noting that this was the second day since Ke Mingqing and Kuroki Hitomi had a falling out.

The autumn sunlight brightened Ke Mingqing’s eyes. After a while, he raised a hand to open the ”Player Chat List” in the upper right corner of his vision and looked at it.

The contact list was completely empty. He had become a veritable lone wolf.

That was right. The other Japanese player on his friends list, Kamishiro Ruri, had suffered guilt by association and was casually deleted by Ke Mingqing as well.

However, Ke Mingqing figured the guy probably wouldn’t have any complaints. It would only deepen his impression of Ke Mingqing as an evil Red Name Player.

There were still no major events worth mentioning today. For the next month, Ke Mingqing wouldn’t need to attend school, leaving him free to focus on investigating the witch cult, the ”Church of the Final Days.”

Xia Lingxue was leaving today.

His second sister had booked a late-night flight for 11:30 PM.

Today, their eldest brother, Ke Linye, was still busy with his internship.

He wore glasses to work, disguising himself as a refined intellectual hypocrite. Sadly, this hypocrite didn’t get weekends off; he was a genuinely pitiful corporate slave.

Xia Ningzhi’s university term had started.

She spent most of her time in the dorms, taking the subway home only one or two days a week. Clearly, today was not one of those days.

Xia Zili had made an excuse about staying over at a friend’s house, but in reality, she had taken Xi Ziyue’s spacetime train to attend a meeting in the United States with a few magical girl reinforcements. She probably wouldn’t be back for the next couple of days.

Xia Wenna went to bed very early. Their alien mother would slap on a face mask every day, hit the bed, and pass out completely; she had the least presence in the house.

And Ke Mingwei was still staying out all night. The city’s crime rate hadn’t dropped following Clock Maker’s death. Instead, the remnants of the Clock Imitator’s gang were engaging in a final Reveler frenzy.

Thus, when night fell, Ke Mingqing was the only one left at home who could see Xia Lingxue off.

Domestic flights usually required arriving at the airport two hours early to check in. Ke Mingqing checked his phone; he and Xia Lingxue had headed out the door at 8:30 PM.

The two siblings hailed a taxi to the subway station, plunging into the labyrinthine underground network and winding their way around several corners before boarding the long white metal dragon.

At this hour, most of the subway passengers were middle-aged men working routine overtime. They scrolled through their phones with exhausted expressions, their faces washed out by the harsh lights.

Ke Mingqing was no different. He hadn’t been able to rest well these past few days, so the moment he sat down on the train, a wave of drowsiness washed over him.

”Sis, I’m going to sleep for a bit,” he said, stifling a yawn.

”Go ahead.”

Xia Lingxue sat beside him, one arm hugging her shoulder while reading from an e-reader in the other.

Ke Mingqing closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.

The tunnel was pitch-black, and the carriage swayed rhythmically, cold light spilling over his tired face. A while later, when he opened his eyes again, he realized his head was resting on Xia Lingxue’s shoulder.

The subway car was quiet, with only the rumbling of the tracks and the noisy audio from short videos lingering in his ears.

”I’ve been a terrible sister to you lately,” Xia Lingxue suddenly said.

”Why do you say that?” Ke Mingqing asked, glancing up without lifting his head from her shoulder.

”First, I didn’t realize you were Blue Pigeon. Second, I strapped a Brain Imaging Helmet to your head. And lastly, I nearly watched you get killed by Clock Maker without doing a thing.”

Xia Lingxue paused, and for once, asked in a gentle tone, ”Aside from those, can you list any other crimes I’ve committed?”

Ke Mingqing fell silent for a moment. ”I can.”

”Tell me.”

”Sis, you take yourself way too seriously.”

”For instance?”

”For instance, you’re just a university student. How could you possibly take care of so many things? Honestly, I just want you to take care of yourself and come home safely.”

Speaking softly, Ke Mingqing pulled an Alpenliebe lollipop from the pocket of her trench coat, tore off the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. It was mint-flavored.

”You eat lollipops to remember someone else, but if you suddenly disappeared, what would I use to remember you?” he added a moment later.

Xia Lingxue suddenly froze.

The pitch-black window reflected the siblings’ silhouettes. Before long, as the train pulled out of the tunnel, their reflections vanished, replaced by the stark white of the station platform.

”The train has arrived at Leijing International Airport Station. Passengers, please ensure you have all your belongings... and mind the gap as you alight.”

The bilingual Chinese and English broadcast echoed through the carriage. Passengers poured out of the train. Ke Mingqing followed Xia Lingxue into the sparse crowd; taking the elevator up would bring them straight to the airport’s ground level.

Thus, the two siblings said their goodbyes in front of the elevator.

Hugging her shoulders, Xia Lingxue said expressionlessly, ”A’Qing, Xia Zili is still in danger. I can’t stay in Leijing for now, so I’m leaving her to you...”

As she spoke, she reached a hand toward Ke Mingqing, as if wanting to ruffle his hair, but silently pulled it back. In the end, she simply curled the corners of her lips and said, almost soundlessly, ”You’ve grown up...”

”I know, I know. You don’t have a naggy persona. Keep it brief to look a bit more nonchalant...”

Ke Mingqing murmured softly as he leaned in, rubbing his head against her palm. ”I’ll be waiting for you to come back, Sis.”

Xia Lingxue stared blankly for a moment, then lowered her eyes and said, ”But... it might be a very long time before I do.”

”Why? Is it because of an Execution Bureau mission?” Ke Mingqing looked up in confusion. ”You’ve taken out so many mythic vessels already. You’ll make it back safely this time too.”

”No...” Xia Lingxue remained silent for a long moment, then shook her head. ”I’ll tell you in the future, if that day ever comes.”

”Alright, then,” Ke Mingqing said softly. ”Goodbye, Sis.”

”Goodbye.”

Ke Mingqing stuffed his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker, watching as Xia Lingxue headed toward the gates. He lowered his head, sinking into a brief silence.

He thought to himself, What exactly is Second Sister planning? Why can’t she just tell me...

This must have something to do with Third Sister, right? If it didn’t concern Third Sister, why would Second Sister be so unwilling to reveal Third Sister’s identity to the rest of the family?

After a long time, Ke Mingqing shook his head, tossing aside his chaotic thoughts.

”Forget it. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

He sat around for a while to charge his phone before heading back into the subway station, arriving just in time to catch the last train of the night.

The carriage was completely empty. No sooner had Ke Mingqing stepped inside and found an empty seat than a Pop-up prompt appeared before his eyes.

[It is now 0:00 AM on Sunday. This week’s weekly tasks have been routinely refreshed.]

[Weekly Task 1: Kill a super-human species of any Rank.]

[Reward: One Attribute Point.]

[Weekly Task 2 (Mutated Task: Task with only a probability to trigger): Kill an accumulated total of five super-human species of B Rank or above within a week.]

[Reward: Retain all currently held experience points; the player’s level will directly increase by 2.]

”A mutated task. So there’s a mechanism like this?” Ke Mingqing raised an eyebrow.

Right then, he suddenly heard a burst of orderly footsteps. He tore his gaze away from the panel and turned to look at the entrance of the subway carriage.

Several figures squeezed through the doors one after another. They wore suits of various colors, their faces smeared with bizarre white powder, and each sported a monocle over their right eye.

The man leading them wore a brown suit and a brown bowler hat. In his hand, he clutched a brand-new, mercury-colored pocket watch.

[Super-human species codename: Clock Imitator Z (Danger rating: B Rank) (Type: esper)]

”Followers of Clock Maker, huh...” Ke Mingqing curled his lips. ”I thought these guys would have mostly scattered after Clock Maker died. I didn’t expect them to be partying even harder. No wonder the old man has been working overtime so much lately.”

”We’ve already taken care of the subway’s security cameras... You’ll die in a place where no one will ever know.” As the man in the brown suit spoke, he pressed the pocket watch with a black-leather-gloved hand.

The pocket watch began to tick-tock, starting a countdown. Ke Mingqing stood up, his hands still shoved in his pockets, and said coolly, ”I happen to be in a bad mood, so you guys are really doing me a huge favor. When I was a kid, I loved playing ’Fruit Ninja’ to blow off steam. It’s a shame this world doesn’t have that game, but luckily, I’ve got reality.”

In a flash, he activated his ”Blending Lightning Form.” Electricity crackling in a shade between black and blue flowed over every inch of his body like viscous ink.

Then, Ke Mingqing tapped his foot lightly against the floor and shot forward, sweeping right through their ranks like a flowing dragon woven from black and blue.

It was entirely soundless. The subway lights merely flickered and dimmed for a split second. When they brightened again, nine headless corpses stood rooted in place, resembling a hellish painting crafted by Satan himself.

Only then did the roar of thunder belatedly follow, overlapping with the rumbling of the train’s engines in a deafening crash.

Ke Mingqing slowly turned around. He began dropping the severed heads cradled in his arms onto the floor one by one, lowering his eyes to count them as he murmured softly, ”One, two, three, four, five...”

Soon, the heads were stacked into a tall tower.

”Nine.”

Breathing the final number, Ke Mingqing placed the last head at the very top of the tower of skulls.

He took two steps back and gave it a brief once-over, then nodded in satisfaction. ”Last time, you saved Bai Ziling’s life from another player. This time, I’ll let you eat your fill... Look, I even made you a cake tower.”

The moment his voice fell, the Dragon Egg in the corner of the subway carriage abruptly cracked open.

A massive blue dragon broke out of its shell. Roaring, it lunged forward with its gaping maw and swallowed the grotesque tower of heads whole.

The subway arrived at the station. Shoving his bloodstained hands into his pockets, Ke Mingqing turned and stepped off the train. The open subway doors slid shut a moment later, swallowing his retreating back in their seam.

The lights inside the subway carriage flickered on and off, burying the dragon’s roars deep within the metallic train.