I'm Really No Big Shot, but Monsters Keep Dying at My Hands

“Help! I’m just a meteorologist trying to stay alive. Why do you all think I’m a god?”

The apocalypse arrived, and I was shaking in my boots, hoping only to find a corner where I could scrape by.

But then...

A piano fell from upstairs and crushed the S-class monster chasing me;

I slipped, dodged a beam, and it ricocheted back to blow up the monsters’ lair;

I was only trying to figure out which day it would rain, but a bolt of thunder struck down all the demons in the sky!

Everyone says I’m an unfathomable hidden master, unmoved even as Mount Tai crumbles before me.

Only I know I was scared stiff!

Please stop imagining things. I really am not some great master!

Click to read Apocalypse: I’m Really Not a Master, but Monsters Always Die at My Hands, and follow history’s most cowardly savior on a hilarious struggle to survive!