บททั้งหมดของ Reborn in the Freeze: My Million-Dollar Shelter Begins with : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

The door splintered, the attackers forcing it open with brute force. Clara fired, her bullets tearing through the first attacker's chest. He fell, his body crumpling to the ground. She fired again, hitting a second attacker in the shoulder.But the third attacker was faster. He fired, his bullet hitting her leg. Clara staggered, her body collapsing to the ground. She could feel the pain, sharp and immediate, could feel her strength fading.She looked up at the attacker, his face hidden behind a balaclava. He was young, maybe twenty-five, his eyes cold and unreadable. He raised his rifle, aiming at her head.And then, Clara heard a sound. A low rumble, growing louder and more insistent. It was the sound of the geothermal system, its pressure building to a critical point.She had a choice. She could surrender, let them take her bunker, let them do whatever they wanted with her. Or she could fight, fight until her last breath.She grabbed the grenade from her bag, pulling the pin and tos

Mira woke slowly, her consciousness rising from the depths of a dreamless sleep like a swimmer surfacing from deep water. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy-lidded, struggling to make sense of her surroundings. The room was warm, bathed in a soft golden glow that came from a small lamp on the bedside table. The walls were concrete, but they had been painted a warm cream color, and there were shelves lined with books and small decorative objects that gave the space a homey feel.She was lying in a bed, the softest bed she had ever slept in, with blankets that smelled faintly of lavender and warmth that seeped into her bones. For a long moment, she didn't move, simply lying there, her mind slowly processing the strangeness of her situation. The last thing she remembered was the cold—the biting, relentless cold that had seeped through her thin coat and frozen her fingers and toes. She remembered the bus, the frozen windows, the bodies of her classmates huddled in the seats arou

The morning light filtered through the bunker's ventilation shafts, casting long, pale beams across the command center floor. Clara was already awake, her body moving through her morning routine with practiced efficiency. She had been sleeping better since Mira's arrival, her nightmares less frequent, her rest more restorative. The presence of another human being in the bunker had changed something fundamental in her, had cracked open a door she had thought was permanently sealed.She found Mira in the hydroponic garden, the girl's small hands carefully tending to the rows of leafy greens that flourished under the grow lights. Mira had taken to the plants with an almost maternal devotion, watering them, checking their leaves for pests, talking to them in a soft, encouraging voice. It was a habit Clara had noticed in the first few days, a coping mechanism that helped the girl feel connected to something living in the sterile environment of the bunker."Good morning," Clara said, her vo

The third week of training focused on combat, the physical skills that would allow Mira to defend herself against threats. Clara had been hesitant to teach the girl how to fight, knowing the weight that violence carried. But she also knew that the apocalypse was a dangerous place, and Mira needed to be able to protect herself.They started with hand-to-hand combat, the most basic and essential form of self-defense. Clara demonstrated a series of strikes, blocks, and grapples, explaining the principles of leverage, balance, and momentum."The key to hand-to-hand combat is efficiency," Clara said. "You want to use the minimum amount of energy to achieve the maximum effect. You don't need to be strong—you just need to be smart."Mira practiced the moves, her body learning to respond to threats with speed and precision. She threw punches, executed blocks, and practiced escapes from various holds. She was a natural, her movements fluid and controlled."Good," Clara said, watching Mira exec

The explosion was deafening, the shockwave rattling the walls of the bunker and sending dust cascading from the ceiling. Clara watched on the monitors as the snow began to move, a slow, grinding cascade that quickly gathered speed. The avalanche was massive, a wall of white that swept down the slopes with devastating force, gathering debris and momentum as it descended.The militia's encampment was directly in its path. Clara watched as the first wave of snow hit the camp, sweeping away tents and equipment like they were made of paper. She saw figures scrambling, running, trying to escape the oncoming wall of white. But there was no escape. The avalanche was too fast, too powerful, too all-consuming.Within seconds, the encampment was buried under a hundred feet of snow. The militia was gone, their explosives, their weapons, their bodies—all buried under the frozen avalanche. The valley was transformed, the landscape reshaped by the force of the snow. Where there had been tents and fi