Eleven

The ambient surface temperature soared, hitting a staggering, skin-melting 56°C.

Willow cracked the bunker blast doors a fraction of an inch to peer outside, but the moment a heavy wall of superheated air slammed against her face, she broke out in an immediate, drenching sweat.

Never mind. I'll wait until nightfall, she thought, locking the heavy steel barrier back down.

The extreme heatwave had now dragged on for a full half-month. Figuring that no living soul would venture out into this desolate, sun-baked mountain territory, Willow had planned to step outside and install her auxiliary solar arrays across the clearing.

But the weather was sheer brutality, far more intense than anything recorded in her inherited memories.

Retreating back into the air-conditioned sanctuary of her bunker, Willow let out a long sigh of relief as the crisp 25°C air washed over her.

The global internet was still functional, and online forums were absolute chaos.

"Can anyone please help? My municipal water lines are completely dry! My five-year-old child is screaming for water. Is there anyone living near downtown who can spare a few bottles?"

"Reporting in from the Westside residential block. We've been cut off for forty-eight hours straight. Does anyone know when utility services are restoring pressure?"

"Waaah, I don't want to die out here! Brothers and sisters, somebody please answer!"

"Stop crying! The main reservoirs are completely baked dry, and the riverbeds are dust. Good luck surviving."

The continuous, uninterrupted weeks of extreme thermal radiation had accelerated surface water evaporation, triggering a severe, week-long municipal water crisis.

At this compounding rate of collapse, global society would plunge into total anarchy within another seven days.

Willow's eyes flickered with resolute focus. She needed to start training herself to adapt to the brutal nocturnal temperatures.

She knew that within a week at most, the overwhelmed regional power grid would suffer catastrophic thermal blowouts and catch fire, triggering a permanent global blackout, the golden hour for unrestricted "free-shopping" runs.

With her strategy locked in, Willow began stepping outside during the late hours, training her body to acclimate to the sweltering night air.

Another week slipped by in silence. Then, the internet grid suddenly flatlined.

"Ah! The power just died!"

"My phone battery is at two percent, why did the local substation blow?!"

"Wait, is everyone experiencing a blackout right now? I'm legitimately terrified. Is this actually the end of the world?"

As fragments of news trickled through satellite relays, civilians realized a synchronized global blackout was underway. A cold wave of primal panic swept across the population.

Meanwhile, Willow's personal logistics were fully locked down.

She swallowed a quick glamour disguise pill to shift her features back into her nondescript, middle-aged male facade, zipped up her tactical climate suit, stowed her solar panels, hopped into her tactical SUV, and drove down toward the city center.

Because her bunker was located deep in the remote wilderness, it took over an hour of driving before the concrete sprawl of the city hove into view.

Wearing polarized sunglasses to cut the blinding glare, Willow suddenly had to jam on the brakes.

Creak!

The asphalt across the multi-lane highway had softened and melted under the vicious thermal radiation, turning into a sticky, tarry sludge that made driving completely impossible.

Cursing under her breath, Willow had no choice but to despawn the SUV back into her spatial inventory, stepping out onto the scorching roadside dirt trail to continue on foot.

Within minutes of walking, sweat soaked through her tactical suit, and the unrelenting glare felt like a physical weight pressing down on her skin.

Flicking open her inventory, Willow grabbed a pint of gourmet artisan ice cream. The instant the frozen treat hit her tongue, a wave of blissful chill cascaded through her core, though unfortunately, the heat melted the remaining scoop within seconds.

Sighing at the cruel physics of the heatwave, Willow took a swig of water from her canteen and trudged forward.

After marching for another half-hour under the brutal sun, a roadside commercial fueling station appeared ahead.

Approaching cautiously, she found the service station completely abandoned, its convenience store doors dead-bolted and shuttered. The staff had clearly abandoned their posts to flee the heat.

Using a heavy-duty pair of wire-cutters, Willow snipped the security latch, slipped inside the air-conditioned shop, and locked the door behind her.

Fortunately, the station's massive underground aviation and gasoline storage tanks were heavily insulated and buried deep below the frost line, preventing any thermal combustion.

Waving her hand, Willow swept the entire commercial fuel reserve straight into her spatial storage matrix.

Taking a well-deserved break, she cracked open a chilled artisanal soda and a container of braised chicken, enjoying a quiet meal right there on the convenience store floor.

Rested and refueled, Willow stepped back out into the glare.

She unrolled a detailed topographical map of the metropolitan sector, her eyes tracking nearby government and law enforcement installations. She had circled each municipal security and tactical precinct in red ink.

She needed to secure a proper cache of modern military firearms.

Walking toward the nearest regional tactical precinct, it took her another grueling thirty minutes of marching to reach the compound gates.

The precinct's security doors were slammed tight, completely unmanned, leaving it impossible to tell whether anyone was trapped inside.

Willow paused for a moment, weighed her options, and resolutely pushed past the threshold.

Stepping into the front lobby, she found the front desks neatly arranged, though covered in a thick, choking layer of dry dust.

A quiet sense of relief washed over her. Marching deeper into the interior corridors, she headed straight for the restricted armory vault.

The reinforced vault door was locked tight. Pulling out her lock-picking kit, Willow went to work.

Click.

The heavy deadbolt mechanism smoothly disengaged, and the vault door swung wide open.

Willow blinked in surprise, her eyes instantly locking onto a group of figures standing directly inside the vault.

"Well... talk about awkward timing," she muttered, awkwardly scratching the back of her head.

Standing before her was a squad of hardened military operatives in full tactical gear. Their leader possessed a powerful, athletic physique, radiating an intense, authoritative aura of raw pressure.

The man was strikingly handsome, though his expression was carved from absolute ice cold, aloof, and intensely guarded.

"Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in a restricted federal armory?"

It was then that Willow noticed the four other soldiers standing behind him. They looked utterly exhausted, their lips cracked, white with salt-crust, and severely dehydrated from days without water.

Liam Hemsworth stared at her without a flicker of emotion, every muscle in his body coiled and poised for immediate lethal action.

Willow forced an innocent, harmless smile, tilting her head slightly as she gave a cheerful wave. "Hi there! I was honestly just out for a casual walk and took a wrong turn. Do you guys believe me?"

Liam's expression remained carved in stone. "Cut the crap. Give me the truth."

"Fine, no more games," Willow dropped the bubbly act instantly, her features settling into an unbothered, flat mask.

"I came here to scavenge weapons. The apocalypse has officially arrived, and a lone girl like me needs proper means of self-defense."

"The apocalypse?" Liam murmured, his eyes narrowing.

"How about we make a mutually beneficial trade?" Willow ignored his hostile glare.

"I happen to have reliable intelligence sources confirming that global society has collapsed. And looking at you lot, I'd say you and your men haven't had clean drinking water in days."

"I can hand over five gallons of fresh water and high-calorie rations right now, provided you give me full access to this armory's weapon lockers."

At that exact moment, Willow silently thanked her foresight for carrying a bulky tactical backpack as a visual cover; otherwise, producing fresh water out of thin air would have been impossible to explain.

Liam hesitated, weighing the tactical risk. But behind him, one of his starving subordinates, Jasper, broke down, stepping forward with desperate urgency.

"Captain, are you seriously hesitating?! Look at us…the apocalypse is actually here!"