The apocalypse arrived, and natural disasters brought about the end of the world. I was reborn thirty days earlier, on February 6, 2024.
With a pocket dimension at my disposal, I had all the supplies I needed: two hundred tons of rice, fifty tons of flour, thirty tons of cooking oil. Medicine, weapons, generators, solar panels: I stocked up on everything.
While everyone else was fighting over the supermarkets, I was drinking spirit spring water. While they chewed tree bark, I ate chicken.
Someone came begging for supplies? I didn't open the door. Someone came begging for shelter? I ignored them. Someone tried to take my territory?
Sorry, my knife is quick.
The whole city was on its knees, begging me to open the door.
Sorry, the door's broken. Can't fix it.
