Chapter2

I stiffly drew the heavy blackout curtains, retreated into the living room, and leaned against the newly welded security door. Outside, the torrential rain pounded furiously against the soundproof glass, like some kind of deathly countdown.

In the next forty-eight hours, the floodwaters rose at a suffocating rate. The foul-smelling, muddy water had completely submerged the windows on the second floor .

Instead of being deterred by the terrifying environment, Chloe displayed an extremely selfish survival instinct. Using her looks and fake tears, she quickly gathered several equally hungry and simple-minded physical education students and formed a so-called "mutual aid society" between the fourth and fifth floors.

The so-called mutual aid was nothing more than kicking down doors from house to house with a baseball bat. On the screen, Chloe was standing in front of a skinny boy who was clutching his bleeding forehead, and righteously stuffing the last half bag of his oatmeal into her bag; while behind her, Brad was slamming the corridor wall with a blood-stained baseball bat, making arrogant noises.

Although I have an ample calorie reserve, I need clean fresh water. I can't possibly survive for months on preservative-laden beverages.

I put on heavy, corrosion-resistant rubber gloves and inspected the rainwater filtration system that had been set up overnight.

Clear water droplets fell into my water storage tank through the drain pipe.

However, just as I bent down to replace the drain tube, a blinding beam of light from a flashlight suddenly swept across from the air vent on the fifth floor of the stairwell across the street, shining directly onto my filter device.

"He's getting water! That freak has clean water!"

A sharp scream pierced the rain; it was Chloe. She stared intently at the bucket of water on my balcony, as if she had discovered a priceless treasure.

I abruptly ripped down the blinds, completely blocking that gaze. In this dead building, cut off from water and food, clean water was a deadly bait that could rot a person to the core.

Less than three minutes later, heavy footsteps accompanied by violent shouts echoed in the sixth-floor corridor.

"Open the door! Hand over the water! This is the mutual aid society's public property!" Chloe's voice roared hysterically outside the door, carrying a condescending sense of moral blackmail. "There are children downstairs who are dying of thirst, you heartless, cold-blooded animal!"

“Stop wasting your breath on him, baby, step back.” Brad’s gruff voice followed.

Before I could respond, there was a loud "boom," and the entire security door shook violently.

I stood three steps away from the door, coldly watching the dust that had been shaken off the door frame. On the monitor, Brad and another guy named Zack had somehow gotten hold of two fire axes and were taking turns hacking at my door lock.

The deafening, extremely violent clanging of metal echoed. Several deep gashes were cleaved into the steel sheeting of the door, but these muscle-bound idiots had clearly underestimated the door's defensive capabilities, and hadn't anticipated that the door frame had been firmly anchored to the load-bearing wall using angle iron and welding. After a dozen or so blows, aside from cracking their own hands, the main body of the door remained completely unmoved.

"Damn it! Is this a bank vault?!" Brad cursed breathlessly, slamming the chipped fire axe to the ground.

"Use that!" Chloe screamed. "Burn it! Force that rat out!"

In the video, Zack grinned as he picked up a large white plastic bucket—a high-concentration industrial alcohol he had stolen from the community repair shop. He yanked off the stopper and frantically splashed the pungent liquid onto my security door, where large amounts of alcohol began to seep into the room through the gaps at the bottom of the door.

Brad pulled out a windproof lighter, his thumb already on the ignition wheel: "Since you're not willing to share, then stay inside and get roasted into jerky!"

Fire? Not only would that quickly deplete the oxygen in the corridor and inside, but the high temperature would also completely melt the rubber seals on the security door. Once the airtightness is compromised, deadly acid fumes teeming with parasites would instantly fill my shelter.

"court death."

I pulled a heavy, long-handled jetpack from under the control panel. With my other hand, I grabbed the tactical spear welded with high-strength carbon fiber blades ; below the insulated handle of the spear shaft was a high-voltage stun gun with its power limiter removed.

I ripped off a magnetic camouflage steel plate from the peephole of the security door, revealing a defensive firing hole about five centimeters in diameter that I had drilled beforehand with a diamond drill bit.

Just as Brad was about to press the lighter, his face came directly into view of the small hole that had suddenly appeared.

"What the hell is Dong—"

I forcefully shoved the high-pressure wide-angle nozzle into the hole and pressed down the valve without holding back!

"Hiss—Boom!"

With a deafening roar like an airlock bursting, a mixture of red and white powder and extremely concentrated pepper spray erupted from the firing ports like a crazed venomous dragon! In the extremely narrow corridor, a dense network of blinding toxic gas instantly formed. This was no ordinary pepper spray; it was a chemical weapon capable of instantly causing a grizzly bear to suffer a nervous breakdown.

"Aaaaaah! My eyes—! My lungs! Help!"

A bloodcurdling scream erupted outside the door. Before Brad could even press the lighter, he was already writhing on the ground, clutching his face. Chili powder mixed with dry powder was stuck to his conjunctiva and respiratory tract, the excruciating burning sensation rendering him unable to utter a complete curse. Zach and Chloe screamed in utter terror, frantically groping backward through the toxic fumes like blind rats.

Just as Brad was writhing in agony beneath the door, I dropped the jetpack, grabbed the spear with one hand, and stabbed it through the ventilation gap at the bottom of the door!

The sharp carbon fiber blade sliced through Brad's thigh muscles without any resistance.

"Pfft!"

The moment he unleashed another round of piercing screams, I pressed the red switch at the back of the spear without expression.

A blinding blue arc of electricity exploded violently inside the blade. Tens of thousands of volts of high-voltage current instantly pierced through his body! Brad's screams abruptly ceased, replaced by inhuman convulsions caused by extreme muscle spasms. A nauseating stench of burning hair and flesh then filled the air.

I coldly drew my spear, leaving Brad to collapse like a rag doll in a mixture of blood and high-concentration alcohol, completely incapacitated.

A violent coughing fit came from the corner of the stairs. Chloe collapsed to the floor, her carefully styled long hair now covered in red and white powder. She stared in horror at Brad, who lay sprawled in front of the door, his eyes rolling back in his head. Gone was the arrogance from before; only the primal fear of the abyss-like fortress within.

“If you don’t want him to bleed to death, drag him away right now.” I pressed the intercom. “Next time he tries to get near my door, I guarantee it won’t just be his thigh that gets pierced.”

I watched coldly as they scrambled down the stairs, leaving a long, shocking trail of crimson in the hallway.

The threat was temporarily averted, but as I watched the large amount of blood flowing down the stairs towards the lower floors in the surveillance footage, my heart sank, and an extremely dangerous premonition crept up my spine.

On such a desolate island surrounded by unknown monsters, such a strong smell of blood would only attract killers more terrifying than human thugs.