Apocalypse I have a system to raise children

Nikolai Lancer

In the sterile confines of the bathroom, a flicker of hope ignited within Nikolai. Despite the horrors he endured, he hadn't been entirely broken. His studies in medicine, the intricate formations etched in his memory - these were the tools of his defiance, the remnants of his past life that would empower him in this one. A fierce determination coursed through him. He would cultivate, grow stronger, and reclaim the control that was so brutally taken away.

But amidst the burgeoning hope, a dark memory surfaced, a poisonous serpent coiling around his heart. His first life, the life he had so desperately fought to forget, reared its ugly head. The image of his sister, Irina, flashed before his eyes, her face etched with fear and betrayal. Shame washed over him, a bitter tide that threatened to drown the embers of his newfound resolve.

He had betrayed her, his own flesh and blood. Driven by fear and desperation, he had sold her to those who sought to exploit her pure yin energy for their twisted experiments. The memory of her pleading eyes, the echo of her broken sobs, was a constant torment, a constant reminder of the monster he once was.

But this time, things would be different. The cold tile floor beneath his bare feet felt oddly grounding as he knelt down, his hands clenching into fists. Tears welled up in his eyes, hot and cleansing. He wouldn't let his past define him. He would atone for his sins, not through empty apologies, but through unwavering protection.

"I am sorry, Irina," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I failed you in the past, but not anymore. In this life, I will be your shield, your protector. No one will ever dare touch you again."

The oath hung heavy in the air, a solemn promise etched onto his soul. He rose, his posture resolute, the shame replaced by a fierce determination. He would rise above the ashes of his past, cultivate his power, and fight for redemption. He would be worthy of his sister, worthy of his family, and worthy of himself.

The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, but Nikolai, the survivor, the defiant disciple, the remorseful brother, was ready to face them. He would honor his past, not by dwelling on its darkness, but by using its lessons to illuminate the path towards a brighter future.

Nikolai's heart sank as he stepped into the room, the vibrant energy of the reunion replaced by a suffocating stillness. His sister, Irina, lay in bed, tears staining her cheeks, clutching their father for comfort. Her fiance, Petrov, stood stoic by her side, his gaze flickering between her and Nikolai with a hint of unease.

Driven by concern, Nikolai approached the bed, his voice laced with worry, "What happened, Irina?"

His question hung in the air, met with a stunned silence. His father Sergei Lancer, still grappling with the shock of seeing his son after so long, managed to choke, "I don't know."

Petrov, ever the observant one, noticed the shift in Nikolai's demeanor. The coldness he was accustomed to seeing had vanished, replaced by a concern that bordered on desperation. A silent question hung in the air: 'When were they ever so close?'

Irina, her eyes red-rimmed and voice trembling, finally acknowledged him, a fragile whisper escaping her lips, "Nikolai?"

Relief flooded Nikolai, but it was short-lived. As Irina's gaze met his, a flicker of something cold, something foreign, passed through her eyes - resentment. It was a stark contrast to the caring sister he remembered, the one who always treated him with gentle indifference despite his rebelliousness.

Nikolai, his mind reeling, desperately searched his memories. His recollection painted a picture of a loving sister, one who tolerated his teenage angst without judgment. Yet, the raw emotion he witnessed in Irina's eyes contradicted his memories, leaving him questioning his own perception.

He retreated, a wave of doubt washing over him. The stories he had heard in his past life echoed in his mind, whispers of half-sibling rivalries and hidden animosity. Could this be the truth? Was the warmth he remembered nothing but an illusion?

He retreated further, seeking solace beside Viktor, his movements betraying an instinctive defence. Irina, sensing his withdrawal, flinched, her voice barely above a whisper as she explained, "Just a nightmare. It felt so real."

Nikolai yearned to understand, to bridge the gap that he didn't even know existed. But the fear of rejection, of unearthing a truth he wasn't prepared for, held him back.

He stood there, a silent observer, a sea of emotions swirling within him. The betrayal, the guilt, the confusion - they all clawed at him, demanding answers. But for now, he could only wait, hoping that the truth, whenever it revealed itself, wouldn't shatter the fragile hope of reunion he so desperately craved.

As her father dismissed Petrov and the others, Irina crumbled onto the bed, her despair a stark contrast to the joyous reunion unfolding downstairs. The memories of her past life, the two years before the apocalypse, flooded back with agonizing clarity. It was a brutal replay of loss, betrayal, and ultimately, an agonizing death.

The death of her father, the betrayal by her brother Nikolai who sold her to the enemy, the gradual indifference of her fiance Petrov - these wounds festered in her memory, a constant reminder of the darkness she'd lived through. She had sacrificed everything to help Petrov and their base, only to be brushed aside when she had nothing left to offer.

The despair threatened to consume her. The headache, a telltale sign of her powerful spatial ability, intensified with every agonizing thought. Reaching into her space, she numbly pulled out a bottle of medicine, momentarily seeking a reprieve from the crushing pain.

But amidst the despair, a flicker of determination ignited. This time, things would be different. She wouldn't waste her life on those who didn't appreciate her. Her focus shifted - protect her father, her brother Viktor. The Lancer family's unexpected invitation, an event absent in the previous timeline, provided an unexpected opportunity.

She would act with caution, manipulate events from the shadows. This time, love and sacrifice wouldn't blind her. She would prioritize her own survival and that of her family, using the knowledge of the past to navigate the uncertain future.

As she swallowed the medicine, the pounding in her head gradually subsided. Her eyes, filled with a steely resolve, scanned the room, searching for any hidden microphones or recording devices. Her voice, when she spoke, was devoid of emotion, a mask concealing the turmoil within.

"I need to talk to father and Viktor. Alone."

The request hung heavy in the air, a chilling contrast to the joyous reunion happening downstairs. It marked the beginning of a new chapter, one where Irina, armed with the knowledge of the past, would play her own game, a game of survival and self-preservation.