On the day the system awakens, there are still six hours before the end of the world.
I took the first shot.
White quality, sliced bread × 1.
... Okay. At least you can eat it.
Six hours later, red mist pressed down from the sky. Neighbors turn into things, the first patient in the hospital bites the nurse's wrist, and the lights in the city go out one by one.
All my belongings are: a 4.2-Meter van, half a box of cigarettes, 12,346 yuan, and a lottery system.
30% White, 30% green, 1.4% Red.
Red can change your life. But every time, life, memory or something else must be exchanged.
I've smoked life-saving medicine, and I've smoked a room full of useless garbage.
I have saved people, but also watched them die twenty meters away - because I only had a knife in my hand.
Later, I built a city on the ruins, and there were thousands of people living in the city who refused to leave.
Someone asked me, if you can't save everyone, why do you need to save them all?
They say I can't save everyone.
I know.
I just don't want to get used to this.
