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Chapter 1 Awakening Before the End "Ah!" Eliana Lane shot upright in bed, gasping as a brutal wave of dizziness slammed through her. Cold sweat slid down her face. For a few seconds, she could only stare at the room around her. The place was unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar. Soft lighting. A plush rug. Disposable hotel slippers. A Keurig on the counter. Two ceramic mugs beside it. 'Wait, is this a hotel room from before the apocalypse?' she thought, her mind racing. 'What the hell is going on? Didn't I die?' The memory hit her like a blade. Right before she died, her so-called family had not been satisfied with draining her dry. They had butchered her. Piece by piece, they had carved into her until bone showed through torn flesh. Eliana clenched her jaw and grabbed the phone lying on the pillow beside her. "June 23, 2027. 7:30 AM," she whispered. Her eyes tightened. This was two weeks before the world ended. After this day, one disaster after another would tear the planet apart. Arctic freezes, lethal heatwaves, acid rain, category-five hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes, and endless darkness. Crops withered to dust, and wildlife mutated into rabid monsters. Wave after wave of catastrophe would push humanity to the edge of extinction. And yet, here she was. She had been dragged out of that black, rotting hell and thrown back seven years into the past. Back to the time before everything fell apart. Eliana jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. She gripped the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was young again. Smooth. Flawless. No scars. None of the ugly cuts she had once carved into her own skin to make herself less appealing to predators. Her skin looked healthy, almost luminous. Her nose was straight, her lips full, her collarbones sharp and graceful. Damp strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck, softening her features instead of making her look half-dead. She was beautiful again. Eliana forced herself to breathe. "I'm back. I'm really back." Maybe her hatred had been too strong to die with her. Maybe her refusal to accept that ending had been loud enough for the universe to hear. A faint smile curved her lips. The woman in the mirror smiled back. A sudden pounding at the door shattered the silence. "Elly? You up?" Harper Quinn called from outside, her voice low, sugary, and fake as hell. The sound of that voice turned Eliana's expression cold. She strode to the door and yanked it open, fully prepared to kick both of them straight down the hallway. But the moment she saw Harper, her eyes locked on the small ruby teardrop pendant hanging from Harper's wrist. Eliana went still. That was her grandmother's antique heirloom. That was the reason Harper's family had lived so comfortably during the apocalypse. In her previous life, Eliana had never understood how they always seemed to have supplies. Then one day, Harper had casually pulled out a steaming vanilla latte and sipped it right in front of her, smug as ever. Eliana only learned the truth in her final moments, when Harper could no longer resist bragging. The pendant contained a massive storage space, a hidden pocket dimension. It had activated by accident after coming into contact with Eliana's blood. But there was one catch. The space only worked when Eliana was nearby. That was the real reason they had dragged her along after the world ended. They pretended to be loyal. They stayed by her side even after she was crippled, soaking up praise from strangers for being so selfless. Everyone admired them for refusing to abandon the poor disabled girl who had become a burden. And Eliana, blind and grateful, had believed every bit of it. She had treated them like saviors. She had risked her life again and again to protect them. A sharp glint flashed in her eyes. Without warning, she reached out and ripped the pendant off Harper's wrist. "Ow!" Harper shrieked. She had not expected it at all. The hard tug scratched her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. "Harper!" Mason Clarke grabbed Harper's hand like she had been shot, then glared at Eliana. "What the hell, Eliana? Are you out of your mind?" Eliana stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, looking at the two of them as if they were something rotten she had found under a sink. "Mason," she said coldly, "do you even remember whose boyfriend you're supposed to be?" Her gaze dropped to the fresh hickeys scattered along his neck. "Guess you didn't sleep in your own room last night." Mason and Harper had really hooked up right next door. They had treated her like she was both deaf and blind. And in her previous life, she had been stupid enough not to notice. Mason's eyes flicked away for half a second before he scowled. "Quit acting crazy and give Harper her pendant back." "It hurts," Harper whimpered, cradling her hand. For someone as spoiled as Harper, she paid almost no attention to the bleeding scratch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ruby in Eliana's hand. "Oh, Elly, my sweet sister, come on," Harper said softly. "You said it looked weird on you, remember? You said it suited me better." "Shut up," Eliana snapped. Even hearing Harper use that sweet little tone made her stomach turn. "Don't call me Elly, and I'm not your sister." She used to think Harper calling her that was just a cute nickname, a fake-sweet way of acting close. In truth, they really were half sisters. Harper was the daughter of Eliana's deadbeat father and his mistress. She had been born only three days after Eliana. The irony was almost suffocating. Eliana's biological father had abandoned her as a child. Years later, he had crawled back into her life under the mask of a generous benefactor, secretly paying her college tuition and pretending to be some kind stranger. He had played her perfectly. A clueless Eliana had treated him like a saint and spent years trying to repay his so-called kindness. "Just give it back," Harper pleaded. When she saw Eliana's attention drift, she suddenly reached for the pendant. Eliana pulled her hand back before Harper could touch it. "Aren't you two supposed to be taking photos today?" she said. "I heard the view by the east cliffs is gorgeous. "Have fun. I'm exhausted." Then she slammed the door in their faces. The room went quiet again. Eliana looked down at the small pendant in her palm. Harper had been obsessed with it because an appraiser once confirmed the ruby was a rare antique worth a fortune. Wearing something valued in the tens of millions had done wonders for Harper's ego. Eliana had never willingly given it to her. Once Harper learned its value, she had begged, guilt-tripped, and whined until Eliana let her "borrow" it for her birthday. Back then, Eliana had thought it was just a pretty old trinket. She had no idea what it really was. Now that it was back in her hands, she did not waste a second. She closed the curtains, grabbed a fruit knife from the desk, and made a shallow cut across her fingertip. "If I really have a pocket space, getting ready for the apocalypse will be a hell of a lot easier," she muttered. She held her breath and watched her blood seep into the ruby. A brilliant red glow flared from the stone. A strange, weightless feeling spread through her body. Her mind cleared, and the exhaustion buried deep in her bones seemed to rinse away all at once. Eliana's breath caught. She lifted the fruit knife, deciding to test the space right away. Thinking back to the way storage devices worked in sci-fi movies, she focused on the knife. 'Store,' she commanded mentally. The knife vanished from her hand. Eliana stared at her empty palm. 'It's gone. It actually worked!' A wide smile broke across her face. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to explore the space inside the pendant. But reality pulled her back fast. She knew exactly where she was. Grabbing her phone, she booked the earliest flight back to the mainland. Right now, she was on a famous resort island for a corporate retreat. Mason worked for the company, and Harper had tagged along for fun. Only Harper knew what kind of nasty little plan she had brought with her. In Eliana's previous life, this was the day everything changed. While taking photos near the water, she had been attacked by a monstrous fish. The bite had cost her a leg and left her permanently disabled. Trying to survive the apocalypse with limited mobility had been a living nightmare. What made it worse was that she kept sacrificing herself for the very people who were using her. And the whole time, outsiders praised Harper's family for taking care of the poor disabled girl. Now, Eliana understood what had happened. That fish had likely been an early mutation caused by ocean pollution. Her chest tightened. She packed at record speed and checked out of the hotel. She remembered exactly what happened while she was stuck in the hospital recovering from the amputation. Her father broke into her apartment. He stole the rest of her grandmother's antiques and pawned them for a massive fortune. With that money, he went full doomsday prepper. By the time the world ended, they were living like kings in a luxury bunker. Eliana had to get back immediately. She needed to reclaim what was hers before they stole her future all over again. Chapter 2 You Can Make It Through Eliana had barely left the resort when panicked screams broke out at the far end of the beach. "Ah! Something bit me!" a voice cried. "Help! What the hell is that? It burns!" "Harper!" Mason shouted. Harper collapsed into the surf. Something had shot past her under the water, too fast to see. A violent stab of pain tore through her leg, and her vision went black. Just before she passed out, one bitter thought flashed through her mind. 'If that bitch Eliana hadn't dragged me out here for a photoshoot, this never would've happened.' Eliana looked back. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. In the previous timeline, she had been the one kneeling in the sand, bleeding out after losing her leg to save Harper. 'Suffer through your own damn misery.' Eliana turned away, hailed a cab, and went straight to the airport. Her phone buzzed nonstop during the ride. Samuel Quinn's name kept flashing across the screen. When she finally answered, his voice blasted through the speaker, frantic and furious. "Harper's hurt! Where the hell are you?" he snapped. "Get to the hospital right now and make sure she's okay. She's my only daughter!" Eliana almost laughed. 'Do you even remember that I'm your daughter too? The kid you threw away and never once loved?' The words rose to her throat, but she swallowed them. Her face went cold. Samuel knew exactly what he was doing. He had used her, guilt-tripped her, and drained her dry, all while treating her like she should be grateful for scraps. Eliana hung up without saying a word. Then she blocked his number. A few seconds later, she blocked everyone else connected to that rotten circle. There would be time to settle scores later. Right now, the clock was already ticking. In the back seat of the cab, Eliana pulled up her bank accounts. As expected, she barely had anything. She was twenty years old. Since starting college at seventeen, she had been pressured by Samuel into working for Quinn Group. She had bent over backward for that company, taking classes during the day and cleaning up his disasters at night. She dragged his failing business back from the edge, landed major clients, and restored his reputation. After three years of nonstop work, her personal savings still had not reached fifteen thousand dollars. She had become a department manager before even graduating. She had closed huge deals, secured partnerships, and given Samuel a way out during a brutal market downturn. Yet now, when she actually needed money, she barely had enough to buy basic survival supplies. Eliana let out a cold laugh. 'God, I really was stupid back then.' Then, while she was digging through her wallet, her eyes landed on a corporate check worth three million dollars. Her expression changed at once. If she remembered correctly, Samuel had given her that money for an upcoming project. He had expected her to turn three million into one hundred million for him, as if she existed only to make him richer. 'Keep dreaming,' Eliana thought. She slipped the check back into her wallet without the slightest hint of guilt. Her flight was boarding soon, so she opened her shopping apps and started ordering everything she could. Within minutes, she had burned through almost her entire fifteen-thousand-dollar credit limit. There was no time to be picky. Her first priority was extreme cold-weather gear. Once the acid rain ended, a global ice age would begin. Temperatures would drop to minus ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Anyone caught outside without proper protection would freeze to death within minutes. Expedition-grade winter suits were only her first line of defense. Next came winter survival supplies. She maxed out her credit cards on bulk boxes of HotHands warmers, thermal base layers, battery-heated blankets, heavy parkas, insulated snow boots, wool socks, and tactical gloves. Since it was the middle of summer, winter gear was not in high demand, which made it easier to buy up whatever inventory was available. Just as she confirmed the last order, a flight attendant's voice came over the intercom, asking passengers to switch their phones to airplane mode. Eliana did as instructed and looked out the window. The sky was bright, clean, and painfully blue. There was no rust-red haze choking the horizon. No monsters prowled the streets. No desperate survivors were killing each other over canned food. No endless frozen wasteland stretched beyond the city. Not yet. Eliana took a slow breath and opened the Notes app on her phone. She had a three-hour flight ahead of her. That was enough time to build a proper supply list. She had exactly half a month. If she moved fast enough, she could stockpile enough to live a completely different life this time. Her list covered the essentials first: food, clothing, shelter, weapons, medicine, power, water, fuel, and extreme survival tools. If she still had time and money left, she would add comfort items too. In the apocalypse, a little comfort could be the difference between staying sane and falling apart. By one in the afternoon, the plane touched down. Eliana's first checklist was already done. An hour later, a cab dropped her off at the apartment complex where she had lived since she was a kid. Oakwood Heights was old. The buildings were dated, and the amenities were nothing special, but the place was quiet and clean. Eliana had rented this apartment since middle school. For years, it had been the closest thing she had to a safe place. She dug out her keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The moment the door shut behind her, exhaustion hit her all at once. "Home," she whispered, dropping her bags by the door. All she wanted was to collapse and sleep for a week. During the apocalypse, even the safest shelters demanded constant vigilance. She had not dared to fall into a deep sleep in years. One careless night could end with a knife at her throat. A person could be butchered for meat, dragged away by mutants, or torn apart by toxic creatures before they even had time to scream. Seven years of survival had left a kind of exhaustion that sleep alone could not fix. But this time was different. This time, she knew what was coming. Her stomach growled loudly. Eliana pressed a hand to her belly and went into the kitchen. Before leaving for her trip, she had emptied the fridge, leaving only a few cartons of whole milk. She opened one and drank it straight from the carton, then finished a second one right after. The cold milk slid down her throat, rich and smooth, and she let out a satisfied sigh. Then she noticed a cardboard box on the counter. It was packed with pantry food: spicy ramen, Easy Mac, canned chili, and beef jerky. She grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and turned on the gas stove. "I should order delivery too," she muttered. "It's been so long since I've had real junk food. I barely remember what it tastes like." She opened Uber Eats and started scrolling. Crispy fried chicken. Greasy pepperoni pizza. Loaded burritos. Barbecue ribs. Mac and cheese. Milkshakes. Burgers stacked with bacon and melted cheese. Her mouth started watering. Half an hour later, her doorbell kept ringing as delivery drivers dropped off bag after bag of hot food. Eliana tore into a huge box of fried chicken first. She ate honey mustard tenders, spicy buffalo wings, and crispy fries, savoring every bite. She left a couple of pasta dishes on the counter, then sent the rest of the takeout into her pocket space to test how it worked. If the space could preserve food properly, she could stockpile fresh groceries and hot meals on a massive scale. An hour later, she was finally full. Curious, she pulled the stored food back out. "Holy crap," she said, eyes widening. "I really can store anything." The food was still steaming hot. Nothing had changed at all. Even the cup of instant pasta she had tossed in looked exactly the same as before. The noodles had not gone soggy. The broth had not cooled. Time had not touched it. 'So it doesn't just keep things warm,' she realized. 'Time stops inside.' Then Eliana noticed something else. If she focused, she could sense the inside of the space. It was covered in thick gray fog, with no visible edge. It felt impossibly strange, like a tiny closet and an endless void at the same time. She tried to push her awareness deeper into the fog, but a sharp pain stabbed through her temples. "Ow," she hissed, immediately cutting off the connection. Still, the result was better than she had hoped. The clear area she could currently sense was about a thousand square feet, with a ceiling roughly thirty feet high. That gave her around thirty thousand cubic feet of storage. More than enough for a serious stockpile. 'I wonder if I can unlock more of it later,' she thought. 'Can the space expand?' Excitement rushed through her. She opened Instacart, Sam's Club, Costco, and several grocery delivery apps. Then she started ordering everything in bulk. First came fresh produce and prepared foods. She bought fifty-pound sacks of potatoes, big bags of spinach, green beans, eggplant, zucchini, cabbage, broccoli, and asparagus. Then came fruit. She ordered crates of apples, bananas, pears, navel oranges, grapes, cantaloupes, and pomegranates. Buying through warehouse clubs was much cheaper than regular grocery stores, so she added even more. Premium cherries, avocados, mangoes, dragon fruit, grapefruit, and papayas were all scheduled to arrive within three days. She even bought fruit she used to hate. Once the apocalypse started, extreme weather and crop disease would wipe out most plant life. Countless species would disappear for good. She needed variety while she still had the chance. Besides, after seven years of starving in a wasteland, being picky sounded ridiculous. Since she was paying with maxed-out credit cards and buy-now-pay-later apps, Eliana felt no guilt at all. In half a month, debt would mean nothing. She still needed to cash the three-million-dollar check at the bank. But with the scale of preparation she had in mind, even three million might not be enough. Then it hit her. She had almost forgotten the real reason she had rushed back to this old apartment. It was the antique heirloom her grandma had left her. Chapter 3 Liquidating Antiques and Hoarding Supplies Eliana felt a sharp rush of adrenaline as she opened the storage room and dragged out an old wooden chest. When she lifted the lid, she found seven or eight vintage pieces carefully wrapped inside. No one had ever told her where they came from. Her grandmother had probably been afraid of attracting greedy attention, so she had only given Eliana a small ruby charm to wear and kept the rest hidden away. In her previous life, Eliana had not learned the truth until shortly before she died. Samuel had stolen these antiques and sold them for an outrageous fortune. They were not cheap decorative junk. They were priceless collector's pieces. Even the seed money for his company had come from selling one of the antiques her mother had once given him. After he made his money, he had taken up with a younger woman, abandoned Eliana's mother soon after she gave birth, and pushed her deeper and deeper into depression until she took her own life. This time, Eliana did not hesitate. She took out every single piece. 'If I sell these under my own name, a sudden cash deposit this large will set off every alarm the IRS has,' she thought, her fingers resting on the edge of the chest. Besides, unloading so many high-end antiques for top dollar in such a short window would not be easy. But moving them through the Quinn Group was another matter. It would save time, and if anyone later questioned the money trail, Samuel and his inner circle would be the ones left holding the bag. "Perfect," Eliana murmured. "That's exactly what I'll do." After all, she already handled most of the Quinn Group's real operations. Samuel had spent years manipulating her so thoroughly that he believed she would never turn on him. He had dumped all the hard work on her while he played the untouchable chairman and enjoyed his luxury lifestyle. Right now, he and Victoria Quinn were probably losing their minds over Harper's bite. That gave Eliana the opening she needed. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the numbers of several senior board members. These men were loyal to Samuel, loaded with cash, and rotten to the core. A few of them had made her skin crawl in the past. In her previous life, they had been the same scumbags who threw her into danger again and again when the world fell apart. She had no problem taking their money. "Mr. Foster, hi. It's Eliana Lane, Operations Manager at Quinn Group," she said smoothly once the call connected. "The chairman recently came across a very rare private investment opportunity. "I wanted to see if you'd be interested before we open it up to anyone else." A little later, she moved on to the next target. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lewis, but I can't hold it for you forever. If you can't put the funds together within forty-eight hours, another buyer will take it." The old man's voice tightened with panic. He immediately promised to pull loans, call in favors, and wire the money as fast as possible. "Idiots," Eliana said under her breath after hanging up. It took almost nothing to bait them. Greedy men were always terrified of missing out, especially when rare antiques and huge returns were involved. Sure enough, within two days, they had scraped together staggering amounts of cash. They practically trembled with excitement as they handed the money to Eliana's proxies and took the pieces away. At the same time, notifications from Eliana's offshore accounts kept lighting up her phone. "Deposit received: $30,000,000." "Deposit received: $120,000,000." "Deposit received: $300,000,000." Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at the screen. 'When have I ever had this kind of money?' But the shock only lasted a moment. She had a reason for keeping the funds overseas. With only thirteen days left, there was no way she could gather enough survival supplies by herself through normal retail channels. She also had no intention of emptying shelves and hurting other people's chances of making it through the first wave. If she wiped out local supplies of food, medicine, and weapons, more ordinary people would die. She was not that far gone. Not yet. So she shifted her focus overseas. She hired contractors to source supplies directly from international manufacturers and bulk distributors. It was cheaper, faster, and far easier to buy in quantities that would have looked insane through ordinary retail channels. She bought literal tons of fresh produce, frozen meat, shelf-stable meals, flour, cooking oil, canned goods, MREs, and protein bars. She ordered toiletries, heavy-duty bedding, toilet paper, tampons, winter coats, insulated boots, thermal base layers, and cold-weather socks by the truckload. The most sensitive purchases were weapons and defensive gear. She stayed away from anything too unstable or indiscriminate. What she needed was practical, reliable, and usable under brutal conditions. Firearms mattered, but they were not everything. In her previous life, Eliana had always been deadlier up close. A machete, a hunting knife, a camp hatchet, even a cheap kitchen knife could become lethal in her hand. When people were pushed past the edge, survival stripped away every polite rule civilization had ever taught them. Beyond the basics, she commissioned custom blades, compound bows, heavy-duty crossbows, and thousands of arrows and steel ball bearings. Experience had taught her one simple truth: the person who could kill from a distance usually lived longer than the one forced into a close fight. Still, terrain changed everything. There were places where guns were not optional. 'If I ever get the chance after the collapse, I'm raiding a military depot,' she thought, filing the idea away. She pulled herself back to the present and opened an encrypted chat with a pharmaceutical broker she had recently made contact with. She typed: [I need more than basic cold meds, cough syrup, anti-diarrheals, antibiotics, and fever reducers. I need broad-spectrum treatments and trauma supplies. Large volume. Fresh stock if possible.' The reply came quickly. [How much are we talking?] Eliana typed back: As much as you can move. Delivery to the drop site within seven days. Final payment goes out on schedule. The apocalypse would not be just storms and temperature swings. It would bring pollution, mutations, contaminated water, and waves of new diseases. Wounds from mutated creatures were almost impossible to treat without the right medication. Different creatures carried different infections. Eliana had watched too many people survive the attack itself, only to die days later from fever, rot, and sepsis. The memories turned her stomach. That was why trauma kits came next. She ordered massive quantities of pre-packed kits, from basic first aid bags to advanced emergency response packs. They came loaded with gauze, medical tape, alcohol wipes, iodine, wound dressings, burn gel, splints, gloves, and heavy-duty ointments. There was no way she could use all of it herself. But if she ever found someone worth saving, she refused to be helpless again. To be safe, she also added treatments for common chronic conditions. In the post-collapse world, medicine would be worth more than gold. Her largest orders were pain relief, antivirals, antibacterials, and antifungals in every form she could get: tablets, injectables, creams, sprays, and emergency-use packs. Buying that much medication through normal channels would have triggered questions immediately, but her broker had access to private international supply lines. The timeline was tight, so Eliana added a massive bonus to speed things up. A message popped up almost at once. [Done deal. Seven days is easy.] A ridiculous winking cat GIF appeared underneath it. Eliana did not smile. Even with every plan moving forward, the clock was still bleeding time. Just like that, another three days had vanished. She stepped away from her monitors, rolled her stiff shoulders, and opened the checklist on her phone. "What's next?" Her eyes moved down the list and stopped. "Water," she whispered to the empty room. "A ridiculous amount of water. Purified drinking water, electrolyte drinks, water filters, storage tanks. All of it." Because when the world ended, nothing mattered more than clean water. Chapter 4 Seed Hauls and a Pocket Space Upgrade The deep freeze finally ended, only to be replaced by a brutal heatwave. Lakes, ponds, and reservoirs began shrinking at a visible pace. Grass turned yellow overnight, and entire stretches of vegetation withered under the relentless sun. The first signs of the apocalypse were no longer subtle. They were spreading across the world, one disaster at a time. Clean water was becoming priceless. Buying enough water in Apleim would be expensive, slow, and far too noticeable. Ordering truckloads of bottled water, water tanks, and filtration supplies from the same region would send up red flags fast, even if she used shady channels. So Eliana shifted her focus overseas. She targeted places with abundant freshwater, stable supply chains, and lower pollution levels. Instead of placing one massive order, she scattered purchases across multiple countries. The goal was simple: spread everything out until no single transaction looked alarming on its own. It was possible someone had already noticed her strange buying patterns. Eliana knew that. But paranoia would not keep her alive. Preparation would. Her gaze turned cold. 'If anyone tries to come after what's mine, they can die trying.' Buying internationally gave her distance. Even if someone did notice, they would be thousands of miles away, separated by borders, oceans, and collapsing infrastructure. Once the disasters escalated, ordinary people would be lucky to leave their own towns. As for the Metahumans, the truly powerful ones would not waste time crossing the world to rob her. With their abilities, they could survive almost anywhere. Her stockpile might look huge to an average person, but to them, it was not worth the trouble. Just like that, the money in Eliana's offshore accounts began to disappear. "Transaction alert: $10,000,000 deducted." "Transaction alert: $30,000,000 deducted." "Transaction alert: $50,000,000 deducted." Watching the numbers drop did not hurt at all. Every dollar she spent became food, water, medicine, tools, or shelter. Once society collapsed, cash would be worth less than a roll of toilet paper. Over the past five days, while draining her offshore funds, Eliana had also spent several million domestically. She focused on things that were easier to buy in Apleim, including comfort foods, ready-to-eat meals, pantry staples, over-the-counter medicine, hygiene products, cleaning supplies, batteries, and basic household goods. After several days of testing, she confirmed one important fact about her pocket space. It preserved everything perfectly. Whatever condition an item was in when it entered, it stayed that way. Time seemed to stop inside. Hot food stayed hot. Ice stayed frozen. Fresh fruit stayed fresh. Unfortunately, that also meant living plants and seeds would not grow in there. Eliana sighed, unable to hide her disappointment. 'It would've been amazing if I could farm inside the pocket space.' Growing crops was impossible for now, but that did not stop her from buying seeds. An absurd amount of seeds. 'Who knows what might change in the future?' she thought. 'Seeds mean options. Seeds mean a chance.' Grains, vegetables, herbs, fruit trees, flowers, cover crops, medicinal plants, native grasses, ornamental shrubs, and anything else she could find online. If a seed variety existed and could be ordered, she bought it. She cleared out major seed retailers across multiple platforms and wiped out smaller sellers without even trying. One seller had storefronts on both Amazon and eBay. After Eliana emptied both, they sent her a message in a panic. [Sir, is that you again?] Eliana had been using an alias, pretending to be a retired grandfather with a serious gardening obsession. Apparently, the seller had bought the act completely. After their Amazon inventory vanished, only for their eBay store to get cleaned out a few hours later, they connected the dots. Same buyer behavior. Same reckless quantities. Same no-questions-asked checkout. Eliana chuckled under her breath. 'So much for staying under the radar.' She did not worry too much. Seeds were cheap, and bulk orders were not unusual. Preppers, small farms, schools, and community gardens all bought large amounts from time to time. The seller was probably more confused than suspicious. When Eliana did not reply, the vendor gave up asking and rushed to pack the order. To protect her home address, Eliana sent the deliveries to remote Amazon Lockers, UPS Stores, and private shipping hubs on the edge of town. By now, her packages were probably taking over entire storage rooms. Her phone would not stop buzzing with delivery confirmations, and reminder notifications. A deep sense of satisfaction filled her chest. "I love online shopping," she hummed to herself. "I love getting packages. And I really love unboxing." After changing clothes, she disguised herself as an ordinary suburban soccer mom. It was the sixth day since she had arrived in this timeline, and Eliana was finally leaving the house. She had rented a box truck the day before, purely because no normal car could handle this much cargo. Soon, she was barreling through town in the truck, bouncing from one pickup location to the next and loading boxes like she was clearing out a warehouse. People stared openly. "Damn," one man muttered. "Soccer moms don't mess around anymore." Another guy laughed. "Hey, if the moms don't handle it, who will? Gen Z?" Whenever Eliana found a blind spot without security cameras, she transferred the truck's contents into her pocket space. Then she drove straight to the next location. To save time, she called the pickup hubs ahead and asked them to pull her packages from the back. By the time she arrived, most places had already stacked everything near the loading area. At one warehouse, a worker looked like he was about to cry when he saw her. "Ma'am, everything in this corner is yours. Like, literally all of it. You don't even have to check." He pointed weakly toward the loading bay. "And I'm pretty sure that truck outside is bringing another pallet for you. Please tell me you're almost done." Eliana felt a little guilty. If she told him another wave of packages was scheduled to arrive tomorrow, the manager might ban her from the property. While she was loading the truck, a curious inventory clerk leaned against the bay door and watched her work. "Does your family know you shop like this?" he asked. They had seen people show up with pickup trucks for large orders. Some even rented trailers. But a commercial box truck for personal online shopping was a first. Eliana paused and lowered her voice, as if she were only giving friendly advice. "Have you guys been watching the news? People are saying there's a nasty new virus strain popping up out west. "You might want to grab some groceries, bottled water, and basics while the shelves are still normal." The clerk straightened. "Wait, another virus?" A few workers nearby went quiet. Some looked exhausted, almost numb at the word. Others immediately pulled out their phones. Over the years, the world had been hit by multiple outbreaks, some small and some devastating. Each one had killed people, disrupted supply chains, and hammered the economy. A lot of people had learned to tune out warnings because they were tired of being scared. Others had learned the hard way to keep a stocked pantry, extra medicine, and a few cases of water in the garage. Eliana's casual warning might save a few lives. That was all she could do. 4 In her previous life, she had been stuck in a dead-end job, too exhausted to pay attention to anything outside her own miserable routine. But plenty of people had noticed the warning signs. Samuel was one of them. He had used insider connections to learn about the coming disaster early. Once he realized he needed a fortune to prepare, he stole her family's antique heirloom without a shred of guilt and sold it for apocalypse money. There were probably many people like Samuel. People with money, connections, and just enough information to panic before everyone else. The problem was time. The apocalypse arrived too fast and hit too hard. Most people did not have enough warning. Even the ones who prepared as much as they could later discovered it still was not enough. As soon as Eliana got home, she sent her awareness into the pocket space and began opening packages with her telekinesis. Box after box split open. Plastic wrap peeled away. Empty cardboard appeared on her living room floor in growing piles. This was a new feature she had discovered. She could move and organize objects inside the pocket space with her mind. The downside was the cost. Using it drained both her body and her mental stamina. After a heavy sorting session, she usually had to eat a ridiculous amount of food and sleep for hours just to recover. But today felt different. The more she used the ability, the smoother it became. It no longer drained her as quickly as before. At first, moving a single box had left her breathless. Today, she opened and sorted an entire truckload of packages and still had energy left. Eliana's face lit up. 'Is this how Metahumans train their mental stamina?' It made sense. Their powers were not fixed from the moment they awakened. They could improve through use, pressure, and combat. A powerful Metahuman always had an equally powerful mind. Compared with tearing through hundreds of boxes by hand and getting paper cuts, telekinetic unboxing was much better. If it also made her stronger, then she had every reason to practice daily. She could already feel the change. Her mind was steadier. Her control was sharper. Even her body felt a little stronger. Still glowing from the discovery, Eliana suddenly froze. Her eyes widened as the realization sank in. 'Did the pocket space just get bigger?' Chapter 5 Three Major Perks The original 1,000 square feet had expanded at a terrifying speed, growing to nearly 10,000 square feet. The ceiling height had not changed, but the total capacity had jumped from 35,000 cubic feet to around 350,000. It was less like a storage unit now and more like a private warehouse. The thick fog had pulled back, leaving behind a wide, clear area she could scan easily with her mind. Eliana reached out mentally and pushed at the dense fog again. A sharp, familiar sting shot through her head. 'So that's how it works.' She rubbed her temples. The fog was a boundary. If she wanted to push it farther back, she had to strengthen her mental stamina first. With this much new space, stocking up on survival supplies would no longer be a problem. Even better, her body seemed to be improving too. She picked up the weighted jump rope from the floor. A few days ago, her limit had been about a hundred skips per minute. Now, she blew past three hundred without even getting winded. Then she loaded her adjustable dumbbell to its maximum weight and curled it with one hand. "Holy shit," Eliana whispered. She dropped the dumbbell with a heavy thud. No wonder she had not crashed after staying up day and night ordering supplies online. Am I seriously building muscle just by improving my mental stamina?' A grin spread across her face. 'That is insane. 'Does that mean I can lie in bed, do absolutely nothing, and still get stronger?' She wondered if other Metahumans had the same perk. As long as her pocket space kept growing, her stamina, strength, and speed would rise along with it. Eliana thought back to her previous life. If Harper had been telling the truth, her own spatial ability had never leveled up. It had stayed the size of a walk-in closet from beginning to end, with no physical bonuses at all. Still, even a basic storage mutation was enough to make someone valuable. Spatial abilities were extremely rare. Most spatial users could not store items at all. Their powers were limited to combat, not utility. The only other spatial user Eliana had met had barely a hundred square feet of storage. Keeping it open drained them fast, so they constantly needed a secure location to unload supplies and rest. But her pocket space could keep expanding. "Damn," Eliana murmured, running her fingers over the small antique ruby pendant on her wrist. She loved the little thing more by the second. She doubted other gifted people received physical boosts from their mental energy. If they did, they would be absurdly overpowered. Most of them had terrifying supernatural abilities, but their basic hand-to-hand combat skills were average. That was exactly why physical enhancement mutations were considered a separate category. Right now, she essentially had three major advantages. First, expandable storage, which gave her room for a massive stockpile of survival supplies. Second, mental stamina refinement, since the void itself forced her mind to grow stronger. Third, physical enhancement, because every improvement in mental stamina also boosted her body. The three abilities supported one another. All she had to do was keep training inside the pocket space. "All right," she muttered. "Let's get to work." She settled onto the living room couch, closed her eyes, and shifted her consciousness into the space. Then she began sorting through the mountain of deliveries. She placed the seeds in a designated farming section. She had also bought five high-end gaming laptops, ten tablets, and twenty flagship smartphones. Using only her mind, she powered on the devices, connected them to her home Wi-Fi, and began downloading offline maps in bulk. But precise tasks like that drained her quickly. After a short while, Eliana opened her eyes, completely wiped out. Her limbs felt heavy, as if someone had filled them with wet cement. "They really are connected," she groaned, rolling her stiff shoulders. "If my mind taps out, my body goes down with it." She checked her phone. Exactly noon. Eliana headed to the kitchen and made a quick meal with groceries from a local market. She seared a thick ribeye, added loaded mashed potatoes, and roasted asparagus with garlic. Then she pulled a fresh sourdough loaf from her pocket space and used it to soak up the pan juices. The smell alone almost made her drool. She had been eating like royalty these past few days, but she still appreciated every bite of hot, fresh food. In the wasteland, even a stale protein bar counted as a decent meal. Fresh vegetables and premium cuts of meat were luxuries reserved for the people at the very top. Eliana had not eaten like this in years. She had almost forgotten what real food tasted like. After lunch, her energy came back. She returned to her pocket space and continued organizing. Downloading maps was still easier in the real world, so she switched to sorting equipment instead. She had bought more than two hundred massive, high-capacity power banks. They had arrived fully charged, which saved her a lot of trouble. Next came communication and entertainment gear. She sorted ham radios, gaming consoles, walkie-talkies, pagers, and even old-school CD players. She had bought two of every brand and model she could find. The older the tech, the more likely it was to survive when the grid failed. She needed a way to monitor outside broadcasts, but she also wanted something to keep herself entertained. In one corner, she found her extreme cold-weather gear. There were black, silver, and camo parkas, thermal boots, heavy knit beanies, and tactical gloves. Eliana pulled several pieces into the real world and tried them on. They were custom-fitted and surprisingly lightweight, but the insulation was no joke. Within minutes, sweat was running down her back. She stripped them off in a hurry and tossed them back into the pocket space. Then she sorted stacks of cashmere scarves and winter gloves. To her surprise, she still did not feel too tired. Next came her athletic wear. She had ordered truckloads of clothing in different sizes and styles, but for herself, she had splurged on premium outdoor brands. These were things she never could have afforded before: moisture-wicking tees, compression leggings, and waterproof windbreakers that cost hundreds of dollars each. They fit her perfectly, kept her cool, and would not restrict her movement in a fight. "That should do it for now," she said, nodding at the neatly stacked piles. She finished by organizing rows of tactical boots, trail runners, and waterproof hiking shoes. She had secured dozens of pairs in muted blue, gray, black, and brown. Practical colors. Nothing that would stand out once everything was covered in mud, ash, and grime. Doing all this by hand would have taken hours. Using her mind inside the pocket space took less than thirty minutes. Still, the mental fatigue was creeping back in. She took a short break, then grabbed her phone and opened Uber Eats and DoorDash. Burgers. Fries. Deep-dish pizzas. Huge burritos. Fried chicken combos. Deli sandwiches. Eliana did not even check the prices. She just kept tapping the plus icon until her thumbs started to ache. When she got tired of the apps, she called local diners directly. She bought out their entire day's inventory and paid double to have them cook only for her. This had become part of her routine. Over the past few days, whenever she had downtime, she ordered takeout. Her pocket space now held thousands of piping-hot meals: barbecue brisket, smoked turkey, lobster mac and cheese, clam chowder, buffalo wings, filet mignon, beef stroganoff, and chicken pot pies. She ordered ridiculous amounts of everything. Eliana could not help it. Coming back from the apocalypse had made her almost violently greedy. 'If I don't buy it now, I might never taste it again.' And honestly, that was the reality she was facing. So she kept ordering. Pasta, salads, hearty stews, gourmet desserts. One by one, every restaurant within a ten-mile radius got cleaned out. But Eliana was not careless. She never used her real name or her real address. Instead, she set the drop-off point at an abandoned construction site a few blocks away. The developer had gone bankrupt, and the workers had cleared out weeks ago. It was the perfect place to collect large deliveries without drawing attention. She also wore a different disguise every time she picked up the food. Even when she ran into the same delivery driver three times, he never realized she was the same woman. A delivery guy walked up carrying four large pizza boxes. "Dude," he said, raising an eyebrow at the pile of food beside her. "Are you throwing a massive tailgate or what?"