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CHAPTER 17: COUNTDOWN: DAY 14

Author: DarkRom
last update publish date: 2026-08-25 03:35:05

The paper money was turning into trash faster than the city could print it.

By 9:00 AM, thousands of citizens lined up outside banks, hitting locked glass doors and dead ATMs. Electronic card readers across the metropolitan grid had fried when the secondary data servers overheated. Grocery stores and corner markets unplugged their registers, posting handwritten cardboard signs in their windows: CASH ONLY. NO CARDS. NO CHECKS.

Inside Unit 28B, Betony stood at the kitchen island, organizing physi
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  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 49: Spatial Release

    The cold crept across the penthouse floor like a living thing. Without the electric hearth or the forced-air vents, the quiet in Unit 30 was absolute, save for the violent thunk-thunk of freezing rain slamming against the outer roof. The temperature inside the master bedroom had already plummeted, turning every exhaled breath into a thin, ghostly plume of steam. Betony lay motionless beneath the pile of heavy wool blankets. She lifted her left hand from beneath the duvet, bringing it close to her face in the dark. On her index finger, the silver band of the spatial ring sat heavy against her skin. It didn't gleam; it absorbed the faint yellow lantern light, cool and inert to any eyes but hers. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind inward. A translucent, sea-blue interface bloomed against the blackness behind her eyelids. `[SYSTEM WARNING: PHYSICAL STATUS CRITICAL]` `[CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 34.2°C

  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 48: Failed Powers

    The blackout didn't just bring darkness; it brought a heavy, suffocating silence.With the floor vents dead and the electric hearth extinguished, the only sound left in Penthouse 30A was the high, screaming whistle of the wind against the frozen glass. The ambient temperature in the room dropped instantly, the residual warmth escaping into the concrete walls like water through sand.Zaid sat up on the bed, his head snapping toward the dark ceiling. His pulse raced as he felt the abrupt shift in the air."Damn it," he muttered under his breath.He untangled himself from the heavy wool duvet, his bare boots slapping against the freezing floorboards. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small steel flashlamp. The harsh white beam clicked on, slicing through the pitch-black bedroom and illuminating the frost already creeping up the inner glass of the balcony door.He looked down at Betony. She lay tucked beneath the thick layers, her white face il

  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 47: Twisted perception

    The air in the master bedroom was thick with the sharp smell of wool and old smoke.Zaid didn't think. The military manuals on field trauma, the emergency protocols for high-altitude hypothermia—it all vanished, replaced by a dark, suffocating wave of pure terror. He ripped the heavy goose-down duvet off the frame, tore his thick flannel shirt over his head, and hauled Betony into his arms.Her skin didn't feel like skin. It felt like cold marble, smooth and terrifyingly devoid of heat."Stay with me," Zaid rasped, his voice rough, stripped of all its calm authority. "Come on, Betony. Look at me."He pulled her bare back flush against his broad chest, wrapping his arms tight around her ribs, bundling the massive down blanket over both of them to trap every scrap of his body heat against her frame. He rocked her slowly, his chin resting against her ice-crusted hair, his big hands covering hers.Under the blanket, the agony hit Betony like a wave of boili

  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 46: Frostbite

    The glaze didn't just coat the mountain; it weighed it down.Down on the lower spur, three thousand feet below the penthouse, the shale trail had turned into a mirror of polished, blue-grey ice. Water was trickling into the deep, chemical-singed fissures of the cliff face, freezing solid, and expanding with the quiet, unstoppable force of hydraulic jacks.CRACK.The sound echoed through the fog like a rifle shot.A hundred feet above the climbing column, a five-ton slab of granite sheared off the overhang. It didn't roll; it slid down the frozen incline, carrying a wall of crushed ice and loose gravel with it."Watch the high rock!" Garret roared, his voice thin against the whining wind.It was too late. The front edge of the slab slammed directly into the shoulder of the trail. The impact sent a shockwave through the ice under their feet. A middle-aged man holding a butcher knife taped to a pole lost his balance first. His boots skidded out from under him, his ankles snapping with a

  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 45: The Freeze

    The sky didn't turn white; it turned the color of a bruised, waterlogged iron plate.By noon, the hot, heavy chemical humidity hanging over the drowned lower city collided head-on with a freezing polar draft rolling down from the northern peaks. The air didn't cool down gradually—it snapped. Within twenty minutes, the ambient temperature plummeted past freezing, sending a strange, suffocating gloom over the ridge.Then came the fog. It rolled up off the yellow-tinged water in thick, greasy banks, carrying the sharp, chemical stench of scorched iron and sulfur right into the higher timberlines.Down on the lower access trail, Garret’s mob was three miles into the climb when the drizzle began.It didn't fall like rain or soft winter snow. It came down as a needle-thin, supercooled spray microscopic droplets of ice-cold water that froze the literal second they slammed into a solid surface."Keep moving!" Garret barked, his voice choked with a violent, wet

  • DOOMSDAY FORTRESS: THE OFFICER'S COLD BRIDE    CHAPTER 44: The Quiet Guillotine

    Morning light broke across the mountain like a pale, bruised violet.Betony stood by the high glass pane in Unit 30A, a cold mug of black tea resting against her palm. Below, where the drowned highway bridge stretched out like an old grey ribbon, the tiny dark shapes were moving. They weren't fighting over garbage anymore. They were gathering in long, crooked lines at the base of the ridge trail, their faces turned upward toward the clean air.She watched them without a single twitch in her jaw. She didn't call Zaid. She didn't key the radio microphone. She simply took a slow sip of her bitter tea and let the quiet sink into her skin.Behind her, the bedroom door unlatched.Zaid stepped out into the living area, pulling a heavy black wool coat over his shoulders. His broad face was lined with sleep, his dark hair messy, but his eyes were already sharp, scanning the room out of pure survival habit.His phone sat on the nightstand near the entryway. It bu

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