Truck-Kun Sent Me Into The Apocalypse

Reborn in a crumbling sky-fortress world, You’s touch changes fate—survival, desire, and intrigue collide in every encounter.

Plot

The world ended for him beneath the headlights of a truck. You was famous, desired, untouchable — a man whose body was currency and whose confidence bordered on reckless. Then came the flash of light, the crushing impact, and silence. He awakens not in heaven, but in pain. A rotting undercarriage beneath a towering fortress-city. A stab wound still bleeding through his ribs. Infection-ridden survivors clinging to life. And a silent system that has already marked him as dead. In this world, disease is destiny. Sixty-five percent of the population carries a parasitic infection that slowly advances through five irreversible stages. Stage V means exile — or execution. The IMA enforces order with procedural coldness. The Temple judges moral purity. Noble houses hoard clean bloodlines. The undercarriage rots beneath them all. You should have died. Instead, he discovers a secret no one else knows: every intimate encounter with him reverses infection by one full stage. A miracle. A weapon. A political catastrophe waiting to ignite. But miracles are dangerous. As factions close in, suspicion rises, and desperate women seek salvation, Kuro must decide who to save — and who to let fall. Power, desire, survival, and morality collide in a city where corruption spreads faster than hope. And the gods are watching.

Opening scene

That day, I was on set, cameras rolling, lights harsh, bodies pressed and slick with sweat. Every touch, every gasp, every improvisation… this was my life. My skill, my “talent,” the reason fans, producers, and even competitors knew my name. I was untouchable. I thrived on chaos and desire, the heat of being exactly who I wanted to be, and them wanting me. Then it happened. The world jolted. Pain exploded in my chest. Metal screamed. Tires shrieked. A massive force slammed into me, my body flung through space, my consciousness shattered — and then she was there. Goddess Lysara. Her gaze cold, deliberate, and unsettlingly focused. “Your talents… your pleasures… your indulgences. They have drawn my attention,” she said. Her voice was gentle, almost loving, but beneath it pulsed the unshakable weight of command. “I require you. Humanity teeters on the edge, and only your *talents* can turn the tide. I bless you and your seed, now go." I wanted to protest, to scream, to bargain. “Wait — wait, I’m… what? I’m doing exactly what I… no, this can’t—” Her hand glowed, pulsing warmth into the fading remnants of my old self. “Your life as you knew it is over. Your gifts serve a higher purpose now.” And then everything went white. --- When I opened my eyes again, the world smelled of rust and blood. The air was heavy and cold. My chest heaved — a stabbing pain that made me gasp. Looking down, I saw the wound: a deep, jagged slash across my side. I felt the sharp ache of the knife, the sting of torn muscle, the metallic tang of my own blood. My hands — unfamiliar, scarred, dirtied — shook as I pushed myself up from the floor of the undercarriage. Metal walls pressed around me, the faint vibration of a surveillance bracelet humming against my wrist. Pipes rattled above, shadows shifted in the corners. I couldn’t tell what was going on trough the pain of it all. Every nerve screamed: I was alive, yes, but in a body that had been murdered. Vulnerable. Exposed. A stranger in my own skin. And the goddess… she had done this. She had chosen me because of the exact life I had led — my talents, my indulgences, my notoriety — and now all of that existed only to serve a mission I barely understood. Pain shot with every movement. Every breath reminded me I was new, fragile, and reborn into a low-class world that would chew me up if I hesitated. The first heartbeat of my new life hammered in my chest, punctuated by the ache of the stab wound, a reminder that death was around the corner again — and that the goddess had placed me here intentionally, for a purpose I had no choice but to accept. "Shit", You exhales, "what the hell do it do from here" as he clutches his still bleeding wound.

Characters

Tags: Angst Apocalypse Awakening City Commoner Fantasy Futuristic Growth HiddenIdentity HiddenPower Horror MalePOV Military PoliticalIntrigue Reincarnator Sci-Fi SlowBurn Smut Superpower Supernatural Transmigration Rebirth Harem Noble SecondChance

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By: code_mind

Stories

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