Twelve

Willow nodded in agreement to Jasper's words.

"This suffocating heatwave is merely the opening act of the apocalypse. Once the thermal radiation finally peaks and begins to break, massive, unrelenting floods will hit, plunging the entire world into total anarchy."

Jasper's chest tightened, and the other dehydrated soldiers standing behind him exchanged grim, stunned looks.

Liam kept his gaze lowered, his expression unreadable as he weighed the tactical reality.

"Captain, what are we supposed to do?" Jasper pulled Liam a few paces away, leaving Willow standing under the watchful eyes of the rest of the squad.

"The boys are dying of thirst! Every drop of water we managed to salvage over the past week was handed out to the civilian shelters nearby. We're running on absolute fumes. People are going to start dying if we don't secure supplies right now!" Jasper argued urgently.

If the collapse was truly here, how were they supposed to hold their ground? They were elite military operatives trapped in a dead zone, completely unable to mobilize without logistics.

"I know," Liam murmured. After a long, tense silence, he let out a heavy sigh, stepped past Jasper, and walked back over to Willow. "I can authorize one service pistol and twenty rounds of ammunition. That's all we can spare."

Willow nodded briskly and followed Liam deeper into the armory vaults.

There weren't many operational firearms left, only seven or eight sidearms total. Willow selected a compact, highly reliable tactical pistol and pocketed the twenty-9mm rounds. Fulfilling her end of the bargain, she unzipped her tactical backpack to reveal the contents she had casually rearranged moments earlier when unobserved.

She pulled out five bottles of pure spring water and five packets of military-grade instant rations, handing them directly to Liam.

"There you go. That will keep you standing for a few more days."

With the transaction concluded cleanly, Willow turned on her heel and headed for the exit.

Liam didn't try to stop her. He immediately set about distributing the rations and water to his starving men, knowing this small lifeline would buy them crucial time.

Leaving the precinct behind, Willow spent the remainder of the day tracking down the remaining regional law enforcement substations on her map.

Operating with ruthless efficiency, she hit five locations total before nightfall: three were already ransacked and occupied by desperate scavengers, while two were completely abandoned.

By the time she finished her sweep, she had secured an additional twenty service rifles and five hundred rounds of ammunition. To her mild disappointment, the armories lacked heavier explosive ordnance; she would have to save a raid on a heavy military base or national guard armory for a later date.

By then, night had fallen. The blistering thermal radiation had dropped just enough to lure a few desperate survivors out onto the asphalt.

These stragglers looked terribly emaciated, reeking of sweat and decay, moving with listless exhaustion, yet carrying an unsettling, feral hunger in their eyes.

Willow's physical conditioning and internal alchemical baseline meant she was easily in the peak of health compared to anyone else on the street.

Because of that stark contrast, she quickly realized she was being tailed.

She picked up her pace, trying to lose her shadow, but the footsteps behind her rapidly closed the distance.

After a few minutes, as she reached the dark, industrial outskirts of the city where foot traffic dried up entirely, Willow deliberately slowed her stride. A sharp, confident smirk played across her lips as she waited for her pursuers to make their move.

"Hold it right there!"

"Don't move an inch ahead, or I won't be held responsible for what happens!"

Willow obediently pivoted on her heel.

Blocking her path were two rough-looking men, one heavy-set and bulky, the other thin and wiry.

The skinny man stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Willow's tactical backpack with a wolfish, predatory greed.

"Boss, look at that pack. There's gotta be high-end rations and water in there. We hit the jackpot!"

The heavy-set man's eyes lit up like neon signs. He sneered, glaring at Willow. "If you know what's good for you, kid, drop the bag right now and crawl away."

Seeing the blatant hostility radiating from the pair, Willow was genuinely glad she had maintained a low-profile disguise; revealing her true capabilities upfront saved her from endless petty nuisances.

Showing no trace of fear, she stared the two men down. "And what if I refuse?"

The heavy-set man let out a sinister grin, cracking his knuckles. "Then let's see how many broken bones your pretty face can take!"

Judging purely by their hulking physiques, an ordinary person would have panicked. But ever since taking the purification potion and putting herself through rigorous daily combat drills, Willow wasn't worried about losing for a single second. In fact, her fighting spirit flared hot.

It was the perfect live-fire test for her training.

Willow let out a cold laugh. "Talk is cheap. Let's see what you've got."

Enraged by her mockery, the heavy-set thug roared like an animal and lunged forward, throwing a massive, sandbag-sized punch straight at her head.

The skinny man stood back with a smug sneer, already anticipating the gruesome aftermath.

Willow didn't even flinch. She stood her ground as if paralyzed by terror, a rookie mistake that made the heavy-set attacker commit fully to his swing.

Snap.

In a blur of motion, Willow's hand shot out, clamping around the incoming fist with an iron grip. With a sudden, explosive torque of her wrist, she violently twisted his forearm a full 180 degrees.

Before the man even registered what was happening, a bone-shattering crack echoed through the alley, followed by a piercing shriek of agony.

"My hand! Ahhh!! My hand is broken!"

The heavy-set thug collapsed into the dirt, rolling around and howling in blinding pain.

The skinny man froze, his smug expression instantly evaporating into raw panic. He tried to back away, stammering, "Y-you just got lucky! My partner was careless, but you won't get away with…"

Willow didn't even let him finish his threat.

Stepping forward with blinding agility, she swept the heavy-set man's legs out and delivered a crushing kick that cleanly fractured his knee joint, before pivoting and instantly dropping the skinny man with a devastating roundhouse sweep that shattered his ankle.

Left unattended without medical help, these two would not survive the night.

Ignoring their pathetic, whimpering screams echoing behind her, Willow turned on her heel and walked away without a second glance.

By the time she navigated back through the wilderness perimeter and unlocked her bunker doors, it was past midnight.

Exhausted from the day's excursions, she took a quick, refreshing shower and collapsed into bed.

The next morning, Willow woke up ravenous.

She had skipped dinner the previous night due to her late trek back, and her stomach was empty.

Rolling out of bed, she decided against pulling out pre-cooked rations. Instead, she flashed her awareness into the Sanctum, where the first major wave of agricultural crops had reached absolute perfection.

Because the spatial realm operated outside normal seasonal constraints, fruit trees bore heavy harvests year-round.

Passing the orchards, she spotted rows of heirloom strawberries, each individual berry swelling to the size of a ping-pong ball. Willow plucked one from the vine and popped it into her mouth; it exploded with a rich, incredibly sweet, authentic strawberry flavor that put modern commercial fruit to shame.

Unable to resist, she grabbed a woven basket and picked an entire basin-full of fresh berries.

Moving over to the garden beds, she harvested crisp greens and root vegetables, planning to whip up a simple, comforting pot of morning porridge to start her day.