REBORN BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE: MY EX BEGS FOR MERCY のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

POV: PHINABy sunrise, the rain had turned to ice.I stood on the inner catwalk of Sector A, watching through the triple-pane reinforced glass as the last lingering drops of slush froze instantly against the outer stone walls. Across the valley, tree branches snapped like brittle glass under the sudden weight of black ice, and the mountain road vanished beneath a solid, mirror-like sheet of frozen frost.The temperature drop overnight was unnatural. It hadn't been a gradual seasonal decline; it was a violent atmospheric plunge. Within six hours, ambient readings outside had plummeted into the double-digit negatives, freezing exposed water, fuel lines, and vehicles solid where they stood."Edwin, engage the primary geothermal heat exchanger!" I ordered over the comms, my voice sharp and clear. "Reroute seventy percent of the thermal output directly to Sector C's subterranean core. Move all elderly residents, children, and recovering patients from the perimeter rooms into the deepest in

POV: PHINAThe air inside Sector B’s subterranean trauma bay smelled of medical alcohol, heated saline solution, and the unmistakable, lingering draft of death.On the central steel cot, an elderly man named Stanley lay motionless beneath three thick thermal blankets. His lips were still tinged a deep, icy slate-gray, his skin unnaturally pale and stiff. Beside him, the digital vitals monitor emitted a single, flat, continuous tone that cut through the silent room like a needle.Alex stood over the bed, his hair damp with sweat, his surgical gown unbuttoned at the collar. He lowered the defibrillator paddles slowly onto the metal tray with a dull clunk, his chest heaving as he stared down at the old man's face.For forty-five minutes, Alex had tried everything humanly possible. He had administered warm IV saline infusions, deployed radiant heat lamps, performed manual chest compressions, and injected continuous epinephrine into Stanley’s heart.It hadn't been enough. The cold had gott

POV: PHINAI refused to let the cold decide who lives, so I decided to go outside.The encrypted radio in the primary command hub crackled with frantic, broken static at 05:00 hours. It was a high-priority distress signal from Pine Ridge, the agricultural research compound thirty miles northwest, the same settlement that had warned us about the atmospheric collapse days ago.“….Highland Crest, do you copy? Our primary geothermal heating manifold just suffered a catastrophic thermal shock... line ruptured... main shelter ambient dropped to minus ten... we have sixteen people in severe hypothermic shock... four children... our emergency medical heaters are frozen solid... please…."The transmission dissolved into a high-pitched hiss as atmospheric interference killed the signal."We assemble a medical strike team immediately," Alex said, stepping up to the console, his eyes dark with urgent resolve. "We load two armored light transports with portable radiant heaters, warm IV manifolds,

POV: PHINAI had watched people die before, but I could not accept watching Alex become another name on that list.Ten miles out from Highland Crest Manor, the BearCat’s interior heating loop failed completely under the suffocating forty-below gale. Inside the dark, rattling steel cabin, the temperature plummeted past freezing.I leaned over Alex’s shivering body, my gloved hand pressing firmly against his neck. His skin was unnaturally flush, slick with cold sweat, and burning hot despite the sub-zero air leaking through the metal seams. When I peeled back the blood-soaked pressure bandage on his thigh, a sickening, acrid scent filled my nostrils.The razor-sharp edge of the raider’s blade had carried frozen, contaminated slush straight into his muscle tissue. The wound was severely inflamed, swelling rapidly, and streak-lines of dark infection were already spreading up his skin."Marcus, pull the transport over into that covered rock overhang right now!" I barked into the comms, my

POV: PHINAThe apocalypse had become too large for Highland Crest Manor to remain an isolated fortress.I stood before the large, glass-paneled interactive display in the primary command hub, my fingers sweeping across the map interface to expand the regional radius from ten miles to fifty. The screen bloomed into a complex web of topographical lines, satellite overlays, and color-coded tactical markers.The brutal reality was clear: an isolated stronghold was a static target. The deep freeze, the rising regional warlords, and the relentless atmospheric decay meant that staying behind closed iron gates was no longer survival, it was slow strangulation."We need a comprehensive survival grid," I declared as Alex walked into the hub, his limp barely noticeable now thanks to three days of intense recovery.I began layering real-time data onto the screen: abandoned distribution warehouses, dormant regional medical storage facilities, underground fuel reserves, geothermal agricultural prop