Do you want to die? I can help you with that!

[A protagonist is detected, who could be a danger to the master.]

[A new system function is being created.]

[Protagonist hunting function is created.]

[detection sub function is created.]

[Luck plundering sub-function is created.]

[Status window function is created.]

''huh?''

[Mater, the system functions for you to hunt down the damn protagonists are ready.]

"Sol, what is this?" Astarion inquired, a frown creasing his forehead as he leaned against the sleek frame of his car, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

[The new system functions for the apocalypse.]

"No, that's not what I meant. How do you know about the apocalypse?" Astarion pressed, irritation evident in his tone. "Did you read my memories again? How many times have I told you not to read my memories?"

[Master, I didn't read your memories, I swear.]

"Then how did you know about the apocalypse?" Astarion's voice was stern, demanding an explanation.

[Magic.]

Sighing, Astarion knew this meant Sol had again accessed his memories, but realizing he couldn't do anything about it at the moment, he resignedly said, "We'll talk about this later, Sol. Send me all the information about the new functions."

[Yes, master.]

Information began to flood his brain, causing a slight discomfort, but Astarion was long accustomed to it. He shook his head slightly to clear the influx of data and stepped into the skyscraper.

"Good afternoon, young Master Astarion," the receptionist greeted him as soon as he entered.

Astarion barely acknowledged her, his mind preoccupied. He strode past her with a brisk pace, his thoughts already on the tasks ahead. Pressing the lift button, he stepped inside, ignoring the receptionist's attempt at conversation.

It was a familiar reaction to her; the members of the Vastaril clan often behaved as if they were of some nobility or royalty, looking down on others. Yet, common folks like her could do little about it.

The Vastaril clan, one of the four great clans ruling the world, boasted ten main bloodlines, each with numerous branches worldwide.

Astarion belonged to the Van bloodline of the main clan.

The four great clans ruled the world, and even the Vastaril family, which earned billions upon billions in their country, was just a branch of one of the ten bloodlines of the main Vastaril clan.

While in the lift, Astarion was deep in thought. "The apocalypse will arrive tomorrow. What should I do first?" he pondered. Right now, there was only one thing he needed the most—money, and more money.

And today was crucial for acquiring that money, as it was the day the Van bloodline of the Vastaril family's inheritance would be divided among its members. This internal family event was separate from the broader Vastaril clan's wealth distribution, but it was no less significant for Astarion.

The Vastaril clan, was one of the four great clans ruling the world, boasted ten main bloodlines, each with numerous branches worldwide.

Astarion belonged to the Van bloodline of the main clan.

As for how the four clans came to rule the world, it all began thousands of years ago. Legend has it that a demon emperor fell into the world, created a demon army, and captured the entire world. Noble heroes then rose, defeated the demon emperor, and freed the world. The calendar started from the moment the demon emperor was killed.

But that's nonsense. What actually happened was that in ancient times, although mythical energy had disappeared, some energies like mana and qi were still present. Then, a boy was born who was so talented he reached the peak of power and conquered the world. However, he was betrayed by his own trusted generals and ministers, who killed him. The descendants of those generals and ministers became the four great clans and many other clans that rule the world today.

Astarion knew this because he had played the game—no, the reason was that there was a protagonist in the game who was a sort of reincarnation of that emperor.

Soon, the lift reached the top floor and opened into a room where many people were sitting, glaring at each other as if they would kill each other at any moment.

Sweet home Alabama—cough cough—sweet home Vastaril.

As soon as the people in the room saw Astarion, they all had another look of disappointment and anger. Now, they had to share the money with one more person.

"ASTARION, HOW DARE YOU ENTER THIS LATE! NOW GET LOST BEFORE I GET ANGRY," Astarion's ninth uncle yelled at him. The ninth uncle was a fat man with an almost bald head, despite being only in his thirties, and he held a bucket full of chicken wings in his hand.

"Uncle, what can I do? I'm not as free and useless as you, who is nothing more than an embarrassment to our family," Astarion retorted as he strode confidently to take his seat.

"And Uncle, do you want to die? I can help you with that!"

"W-What are you talking about, you bastard?" the second uncle asked in a scared voice, his eyes widening in fear.

"No, I just think that you are tired of living, that you dared to raise your voice in front of me," Astarion said calmly, fixing his second uncle with a cold, steady gaze that clearly communicated the threat behind his words.

"Astarion, how could you talk to your uncle in such a manner? Don't you have any shame left?" Astarion's father, Harion, who was sitting next to his ninth uncle, chided him.

One could say that his father, Harion, and his ninth uncle harbored hatred towards Astarion for various reasons. Astarion had once beaten his ninth uncle severely when he refused to hand over his shares in one of their companies.

And his father simply detested him because of that incident. He didn't even consider Astarion his son, partly because Astarion's late mother, Harion's wife, had many affairs, although Harion himself was not faithful.

However, he always blamed his wife. When she died giving birth to Astarion, he was relieved that "the bitch had died," but now her son, with his golden eyes that reminded him so vividly of her, was a constant irritant.

Harion used to beat Astarion, but about five years ago, his once cowardly son changed, becoming cunning and ruthless, leaving Harion powerless to discipline him further, which only fueled his anger.

But as Astarion was about to retort, a weak and aged voice intervened, "Enough, everyone. Now that Astarion is here, let us begin the inheritance ceremony." The voice belonged to an old man with a frail appearance, Erion, Astarion's grandfather and the founder of the Vastaril family in their country.