Apocalypse: All My Skills Are At Level 100

The world had ended years ago, though some would argue it was only just beginning.

Humanity's downfall didn't come from war or famine.

It wasn't some slow decline into ruin. It came all at once — a coordinated apocalypse unleashed by beings beyond comprehension. The gods, bored of their own endless existence, decided to test their most fragile creations.

They unleashed horrors upon the Earth: beasts with fangs like swords, claws that could rend steel, and minds as cunning as any human strategist.

They twisted the natural order, creating werewolves that prowled the night, and swarms of undead that never tired.

But the gods were not without a sense of fairness — twisted though it was. To balance the scales, they bestowed humanity with the System.

A divine interface that appeared as a glowing screen in each person's vision. It granted skills, tracked stats, and turned survival into a brutal game.

Strength, Agility, Intelligence, Vitality — everything measurable was quantified. Every human was given the chance to grow stronger, adapt, and perhaps even thrive.

At least, that's what the gods claimed.

The System saved humanity from extinction, but it was no miracle.

Settlements sprung up, fortified zones of crumbling cities and scavenged technology. Walls held back the worst of the beasts, and hunters — armed with both grit and System-enhanced powers — kept the monsters from overwhelming what little was left.

But outside the safety of these havens, the world was a predator's paradise. The monsters were relentless, and no amount of stats could erase the fear of hearing a werewolf's howl in the dead of night.

The System brought hope, but it also brought division. People with high stats or rare skills were celebrated, rising as leaders and warriors.

Those with weaker talents were left to scrape by, assigned menial jobs or treated as expendable. And then there were the orphans — those with no family, no status, and no one to guide them.

For them, the System's promises of greatness felt like a cruel joke.

Elias Drake was one of those orphans.

The workshop smelled of grease and smoke, a constant reminder of the Merchant Guild's relentless grind.

Elias wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned back, stretching his arms. His shift had ended, but the work had left him sore and drained.

The other workers had long since gone, leaving the place eerily quiet save for the occasional creak of old machinery.

The Merchant Guild wasn't the most glamorous place, but it paid enough to keep him fed and gave him access to scraps — bits of metal and tech he could use to tinker.

Elias loved building things. It was one of the few joys he had left. As an orphan, he'd learned early on that relying on others was dangerous.

So, he didn't. Instead, he poured his energy into his work, earning just enough to keep a roof over his head.

Today, though, wasn't just any day. Today, he turned eighteen.

Elias closed the door to the workshop behind him, stepping out into the narrow, dimly lit streets of the settlement.

A chill wind cut through the air, carrying with it the distant sound of howls. Werewolves, likely scouting the perimeter. The settlement's guards would handle them — or die trying.

He walked quickly, keeping his head down. The streets weren't safe after dark.

Even within the walls, the threat of monsters — or desperate people — was constant. The glowing screens of the System floated above the heads of a few late-night wanderers, casting a cold, blue light on the cracked pavement.

Eighteen. The age of Awakening. Most people would be celebrating, gathered with family and friends as they unlocked their System and discovered their Talents.

For Elias, there was no celebration waiting at home. Just a cramped room and a rickety bed.

Elias closed the door to his apartment, locking it behind him. The room was as unimpressive as ever: a pile of scavenged blankets in the corner, a workbench covered in half-finished gadgets, and a single, flickering lightbulb.

He set his tools down and sank onto the bed, exhaling deeply.

Then, it happened.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through his head, blinding him for a moment. He clutched his temples as a flood of light filled his vision, the System's familiar interface flashing before him.

[Awakening in progress…]

Elias blinked, trying to focus on the words. This was it — his Awakening. His moment to finally gain the tools to survive. He'd been waiting for this for years, dreaming of what Talent he might receive.

[Analyzing host…]

The light grew brighter, pulsing with each word. The System's voice echoed in his mind, calm and mechanical.

[Host found. System binding…]

Elias clenched his fists, his heart pounding. What would it be? A combat skill? Magic? Something rare and powerful? He could almost see the future — him, standing tall as a hunter, no longer an overlooked orphan.

[Error detected. Skill parameters exceeded normal limits.]

Elias froze.

'What?'

The System flickered, the light growing erratic.

[Adjusting interface… Initiating recalibration… Error persists.]

A new screen appeared, listing his stats and skills. His eyes widened as he read the numbers.

[Strength: 100]

[Agility: 100]

[Intelligence: 100]

[Vitality: 100]

But that wasn't all. His skills — basic ones like [Combat] and [Endurance], and even advanced ones like [Magic Mastery] — were all maxed out at Level 100.

"What the hell?" he muttered, staring at the screen. This couldn't be right. Nobody started with stats like this. It was impossible.

The System seemed to agree.

[Warning: Anomalous status detected.]

[Initiating evolution… Please stand by.]

Pain lanced through Elias's body as he fell to his knees, gasping for air. It felt like his veins were on fire, his muscles tearing apart and rebuilding themselves in an instant.

He gritted his teeth, willing himself to stay conscious.

When the pain finally subsided, he was left trembling on the floor. The System's voice returned, softer now, almost amused.

[Evolution complete. Welcome, Elias.]

Elias stared at the screen, his mind racing. He had no answers, only a growing sense of dread—and a flicker of excitement.

He rose unsteadily, his breath coming in short gasps. The room felt different, sharper somehow. Every sound, every shadow seemed to hum with energy.

He clenched his fists, feeling the raw strength coursing through him.

Elias didn't know what the gods had done to him, but one thing was clear: this was no ordinary Awakening.

For the first time in his life, he wasn't weak. He wasn't powerless.

But in a world where strength made you a target, he wasn't safe either.