Chapter 4

That night, I slept deeply on the soft mattress freshly printed by the workshop. Outside, the world was quietly sliding into the abyss, while inside my deep-sea fortress, life thrived in peaceful abundance.

Until the early morning of the fourth day—a jarring cacophony from the main console shattered the hold's tranquility.

I threw on a jacket, grabbed a glass of freshly purified water, and walked to the screen. On the surveillance feed, my father—who had been raising his glass in celebration just the night before—was now smashing an invaluable antique, a Louis XV painted porcelain vase, against the living room floor.

"Where did the funds go?!" He grabbed the financial director by the collar, his eyes bloodshot.

The company treasury, the cruise ship operating funds—all had been swallowed whole by an invisible beast, leaving not a single trace.

Urgent footsteps pounded down the stairs. My younger brother burst into the living room, clutching an overheating laptop.

"My encrypted wallet... my digital assets have been drained too!" His once-prized hacking skills now seemed as useless as scrap metal.

My mother's phone buzzed violently. She trembled as she swiped the screen open, her body lurching.

"Card cancellation notices... all our credit cards are being frozen."

The cascade of blows froze the air in the manor. Panic crawled through the network, seeping into the screen of my deep-sea fortress.

I curled my lip, turned, and walked toward the biocabin, biting into a freshly picked tomato. Its sweet, tangy juice burst in my mouth, washing away the sense of absurdity.

Tossing the stem into the compost bin, I looked around.

In the farm zone, heavy green vines were already laden with ripening fruit. The crisp scent of cucumbers mingled with the earthy soil; growth was astonishing. The workshop's mechanical arms hummed softly as a brand-new polymer leather sofa took shape.

Along with the multi-function squat rack in the corner, this shelter now held enough supplies to sustain a hundred people for a decade.

And outside, the world was accelerating toward collapse.

I switched to the news feed. The anchor's voice trembled violently.

"Multiple deep-water port cold storages have reported thefts—tons of meat vanished into thin air. Coastal fuel reserves have plummeted..."

The feed shifted. A military spokesman faced the camera, sweating profusely.

"Emergency strategic warehouses have reported shortages. Police are conducting a full investigation..."

The anomalies before the apocalypse had become an invisible hand, choking the public's throat.

Gloom hung heavy over the Winston Mansion. My mother slumped on the sofa, dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief all day. My younger brother locked himself in his bedroom, his frantic keyboard clatter trying to hunt down the "top-tier hacker" that didn't exist.

Only the adopted son bustled around his parents with warm tea, playing the devoted child.

"Dad, Mom, as long as our family is safe and sound, money can always be earned again." His tone was gentle, but his eyes hooked like talons onto the Patek Philippe on my father's wrist.

Watching this farce of hidden agendas, I grabbed the squat rack's weight bar, sweat rolling down my back muscles. The physical exertion kept me grounded.

On the evening of the fourth day, a shrill system alarm pierced the hold's silence!

The pale blue countdown on my retina twisted without warning—the five-day mark flickered violently and turned a dripping blood-red.

[Warning! Disaster acceleration detected!]

[Countdown: 24 hours]

Before I could steady my breath, the surveillance feed from the manor went black. Not just the Winston Mansion—the entire global communication network was severed in that instant.

I lunged toward the console. Every screen that lit up—both my main panel and the television in the manor running on backup power—displayed the same blood-red, bone-chilling text.

"Undersea volcanic chain eruption in full force. Super tsunami will reach coastal areas in twenty-four hours!"

The emergency disaster alert had become the Grim Reaper's scythe, laid across humanity's throat.

The poisonous lie once used to exile me had now become the cruel judgment about to tear them apart.