January 3, 2026 — 06:00 AM | Wave 2 — Time Remaining: 24 Hr 00 Min
Ki (Introduction): The Dream of White-Gold
The dream was a glorious, high-definition masterpiece of Gilbert's own making. In the hazy, soft-focus theater of his subconscious, he wasn't a 185-pound man huddling in a porn shop.
He was the Harem King. He lounged upon a throne of velvet and unread light novels.
He was surrounded. A circle of "top-tier" mature women—the kind with the exact "impossible proportions" he had spent years studying—hovered over him. Their faces were flushed with a programmed, digital lust.
"Ohooo, settle down, my kittens~"
Gilbert cooed in the dream. His voice was a smooth, filtered baritone. It sounded nothing like his actual wet wheeze.
He adjusted a pair of solid gold glasses that never fogged up.
"Patience is a virtue in the presence of an Alpha. I've got enough... 'white-gold' in the container to let loose inside all of y'all. Just wait your turn in the queue."
He thrust his hips forward with a confidence born of a thousand visual novels. He huffed with a phantom exertion that felt like victory.
Emma Frost to his left leaned in. Her breath smelled of expensive perfume and scripted adoration.
But then, the temperature of the dream dropped.
The soft, aromatic warmth of the harem was replaced by a sudden, biting intrusion of damp coldness. The velvet throne felt... wet.
"So... cold... and wet..."
Gilbert mumbled in his sleep. His double chin twitched.
"Emma? You that wet? Settle down kitten... daddy ain't going nowhere."
He tried to pull the dream-heroines closer. Their voices shifted.
The melodic, seductive coos warped into a frantic, high-pitched warble. It sounded like a radio being tuned through a hurricane.
They weren't asking for his "white-gold" anymore. They were staring into his eyes. Their faces melted into pink, long-snouted masks of pure, cartoonish panic.
"ABBLUHHH ABLUH BLUH! EE-EE-EE-EEH!"
Gilbert's eyes snapped open.
Emma Frost was gone. In her place, standing directly on Gilbert's protruding stomach and bouncing like a pogo stick, was Courage.
The pink dog was vibrating so hard he was a blur. His large, watery eyes bulged out of his head. He pointed a trembling paw toward the front door.
"What the fuck?!"
Gilbert shrieked. The sound cracked like a jagged piece of slate.
He flailed his arms. He nearly knocked his oily glasses off the crate he'd used as a nightstand.
"Get off me, you mangy mutt! You're crushing the internal organs! Do you have any idea what you've done to the mood?!"
He scrambled into a sitting position. The waifu pillows beneath him let out a wet, squelching sound. It made his skin crawl.
As his vision settled, the confusion of the dream was replaced by a sharp, rhythmic drumming.
Patter-patter-patter-THUD.
The "Fortress of Filth" was no longer a dry tomb. The heavy metal door, which Malenia had kicked open earlier that morning, was acting as a funnel.
Outside, the world was gone. The Abyssal crimson sky was choked with clouds the color of a bruised lung. They were emptying themselves with a violent, industrial intensity.
"Rain?"
Gilbert groaned. He rubbed his eyes. He smeared a fresh layer of forehead grease across his lids.
He looked at Courage. The dog was still prancing frantically on his hind legs. He babbled in a stream of high-speed gibberish about rising water levels.
"You woke me up... you interrupted a Rank-EX climax... because of rain? Are you serious right now, Baka-dog?"
He reached for his phone. His thumb left a sticky smear of old strawberry lubricant on the glass.
"It's just weather, you glitchy mascot," Gilbert sneered. His voice returned to its baseline of entitled arrogance. "I've survived the Great Salt Lake floods from the comfort of my basement. A little humidity isn't going to—"
"Thy ignorance is a rot more persistent than the one I carry."
The voice was cold. Sharp. It cut through Gilbert's lecture like a scalpel.
Malenia was standing by the doorway. Her scarlet cape was already dark and heavy with moisture. She didn't look back at him. Her eyeless helm was fixed on the deluge outside.
"The beast speaks truth," she said. Her voice was a low, lethal hum.
"Yesterday, while thou wert indulging in thy 'marathons' of filth, this creature guided my blade. His senses perceive what my rot-blindness cannot. He scented the ambush of the vine-creatures before they moved. He led us to the harvest without a single wasted stride. If the creature shakes, it is because there is a shadow approaching that thou art too dull to perceive."
Gilbert shut his mouth. He looked at Courage. The dog was nodding his head so fast his ears were flapping like wings.
"Fine," Gilbert grumbles. His ego stung from the "Goddess-tier" rebuke.
He stood up. His knees popped like bubble wrap.
He stretched his doughy frame. His new, porcelain-white arm felt light. Unnervingly responsive.
"Alright. Courage... what's your 'tactical analysis'? What's the plan, since you're the new Co-Op lead?"
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "Look at him stretching. He thinks he's about to enter a boss arena. Gilbert, you're just a wet potato in a cat-girl shirt. 🥔🌧️"
Gamer_God_69: "Malenia just gave Courage the 'Senior Combat Advisor' role. Gilbert has been demoted to 'Carry-on Luggage.' LMAO. 📉"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "That poor dog is trying to save his life! Look at the water coming in under the shelves! It's already an inch deep! 🌊🧼"
Vile_Virtue: "I love that Malenia is basically the dog's bodyguard now. The hierarchy is: Malenia > Courage > A used napkin > Gilbert. 🐕⚔️"
Courage saw that Gilbert was finally listening. The dog took a deep breath. His chest expanded like a balloon.
He let out a series of frantic barks. He began a high-speed charade.
He pointed to the smartphone in Gilbert's hand. He mimed tapping a screen. Then his eyes bug out. He mimicked a giant explosion.
"Eeeeh-hee-hee! Notification! I saw it! I'm sorry! Don't hit me!"
Courage babbled. He bowed low in a gesture of apology for touching the "sacred artifact."
He then morphed his body with a rubbery pop. His pink skin stretched. He became the shape of a massive, flat-bottomed boat.
He sprouted oars from his sides. He began "rowing" across the concrete floor. He made a splish-splash sound with his mouth.
"A boat?"
Gilbert squinted. His mind finally connected the "Endless Rain" notification with Courage's display.
"Wait, it's going to be that bad? Like... a flood event? I thought this was just an atmospheric debuff."
Courage popped back into his dog form. He nodded his head profusely. He pointed outside.
The street, which had been a jungle of moss and vines, was becoming a river. The thick root-systems were acting like dams. They trapped the water. It was rising at a rate that defied physics.
"He says the notification told him," Gilbert muttered. His face turned an ashen grey. He looked at the water creeping toward his "nest."
"The Wave Factor... 'Increase in Mobs'... if the water rises, the land-based mobs get squeezed into smaller areas. Or... the water is the mob."
Suddenly, Gilbert's eyes widened. He spun around.
He looked at his "Fortress of Filth"—the thousands of magazines, the limited-edition figurines, the "archives" he had spent the last 24 hours organizing.
"My collection!"
Gilbert wailed. A single, greasy tear rolled down his soot-stained cheek.
"The ink! The glossy pages! They'll be ruined! This is a cultural genocide! Malenia-chan, we have to save the archives! We need a boat big enough for all of it!"
Malenia turned. Her eyeless helm reflected the flickering fluorescent light.
The air in the room grew heavy with her mounting disgust.
"I will not waste my strength ferrying thy 'treasures' of shame across a drowning world, master of rot. I will build a vessel for survival. If thy paper harlots cannot swim, they are meant for the depths."
"It's not just paper! It's research!"
Gilbert shrieked. His voice cracked. He looked at Courage.
"You! You're the builder! We need a ship! An Ark! A 'Great Salt Lake Voyager'! Where do we get the materials? Everything in here is just plastic and particle board."
Courage scratched his head. He morphed his nose into a giant compass. He spun around. He pointed directly through the back wall of the store. Toward the south.
"Chat. They know the local map."
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "Is he serious? He's building an ark in a porn shop. 🤡"
Handyman_Hank_801: "Actually, yeah. If you're where I think you are, there's a Home Depot on 2100 South. It's about two miles out. If you take the TRAX line path, it's mostly elevated. You can get all the pressure-treated lumber you want."
Vile_Virtue: "Wait, I've been to that adult store! I know exactly where he is. I used to buy my... uh... 'gag gifts' there. Hank is right, the Home Depot is a straight shot south."
Beehive_Babe_99: "Why were you at that specific store, Hank? 🤨"
Handyman_Hank_801: "Irrelevant! Focus on the mission! Gilbert, the Home Depot is a fortress. If you can get Malenia to clear the garden center, you'll have enough wood to build a cruise ship."
"Home Depot," Gilbert says. A predatory, determined glint appeared behind his glasses.
"The legendary 'Crafter's Dungeon.' Malenia-chan, we have our objective. We need to secure the lumber before the water levels make the streets impassable."
He looked at Malenia. Then at the two-mile distance. His legs already ached just thinking about it.
"Malenia-chan... think you could... you know... use those wings to get us there faster? I'll lead us with the instructions. It'll be like a high-speed tactical insertion!"
Malenia stared at him. She looked at the strawberry lube on his hand. She looked at the "Neko-Maid" shirt.
Then, she looked at the dog. He was shivering in the rising puddle.
"For the beast," she murmured. "And for the sake of escaping this reeking tomb... I shall grant thee this flight. But speak one word of 'waifu' nonsense while we are aloft, and I shall drop thee into the maw of the flood."
The wind screamed through the polyester ribbons of Gilbert's 3XL "Neko-Maid Adventure" shirt as Malenia banked south.
He dangled by his collar. The unalloyed gold of her prosthetic hand acted like a cold, immovable hook.
Below, the Salt Lake jungle was a blur of neon green and muddy brown runoff.
Gilbert kept his mouth shut. His teeth chattered with a rhythmic, wet click.
He didn't dare utter a single "M'lady" or a "Tan" while they were aloft. He knew the physics engine of this reality.
If she dropped him from this height, his "Alpha" build would reach terminal velocity. His HP would hit zero before he could even scream "Ikuze."
The rain was a solid wall of liquid ice. It stung his pale skin. It turned his glasses into useless, fogged-out discs.
He could barely see his own hands. He relied entirely on the demigod's internal GPS to find the "Palace of Plywood."
Finally, the forward momentum died.
Malenia descended with a sudden, gut-wrenching drop. Gilbert's stomach attempted to exit through his throat.
They landed on the flat, gravel-caked roof of a massive warehouse.
"We have arrived," Malenia stated. Her voice cut through the roar of the storm with terrifying clarity.
She released his collar. Gilbert collapsed onto the gravel with a wet, heavy thud.
"Oof... collision detection... total fail," Gilbert wheezed.
He pushed himself up. He wiped his lenses with the only dry-ish patch of his shirt. It was his inner bicep area.
The orange "Home Depot" sign loomed above them. It flickered in the smoggy twilight.
Gilbert waddled toward the edge of the roof. He looked down into the massive, open-air Garden Center.
It was a labyrinth of chain-link fences and toppled pallets. The water was already calf-deep. It swirled with mulch and drowned petunias.
"There! Barrels!"
Gilbert shrieked. He pointed a trembling, nacho-stained finger toward the far corner of the warehouse floor.
"Blue plastic drums! They're S-Tier for floating platforms. I saw a documentary on survivalism once—I basically have a PhD in maritime logistics."
Malenia looked at the containers. Then back at Gilbert.
Her eyeless helm tilted. Her silence radiated a mounting pressure of disbelief.
"Thou wouldst build a vessel from... refuse?" she asked.
"It's not refuse, it's a modular buoyancy system!" Gilbert snapped. His ego flared.
"Trust the strategist, Malenia-chan. Quickly, this way. We need the ones with the sealed lids!"
They broke through a skylight. Malenia shattered the glass with a casual flick of her hilt.
Inside, the Home Depot was a tomb of stagnant air and orange shelving. It smelled of sawdust and wet concrete.
The blue barrels were stacked three high near the plumbing section. They were massive, fifty-five-gallon beasts of thick polyethylene.
To Gilbert, they looked like the save points of a high-difficulty raid.
"Malenia-chan," Gilbert commanded. He puffed out his chest to look like a foreman.
"Carry three of these back to the base. I'll move as many as I can toward the entrance so we have a 'staging area.' Just let me know when you come back for the rest of the mats."
Malenia stared at him for a long, agonizing beat. Internally, the Blade of Miquella was momentarily stunned.
She had seen this creature grovel, weep, and lecherously leer at her. Yet, faced with a drowning world, the worm was... calculating.
Was this proactive thinking, or merely another layer of his stagnant delusion?
She didn't care. The water was rising.
She grabbed two barrels in her arms. She clamped the third between her armored legs. She took off through the shattered skylight with a mechanical whir.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "Wait. Did Gilbert just give an order that actually made sense? I think I'm glitching. 🧠🔌"
Gamer_God_69: "He's using his 'Survivalist' knowledge from YouTube. He's unironically trying to build a raft. If he survives this, I'm changing my sub to Tier 1. 📈"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "Look at him go! He's actually touching something that isn't a plastic doll! Move those legs, boy! 🧼🏃♂️"
Vile_Virtue: "He's going to have a cardiac event by barrel number two. I'm putting 50k on a lung collapse. 🍿📉"
Gilbert ignored the chat. He grabbed the nearest blue drum. He dug his unclipped fingernails into the plastic rim. He heaved.
"Hnnngh... gah!"
The barrel didn't move. It was empty, but the sheer awkwardness of the shape challenged his zero-muscle-tone frame.
He threw his entire 185-pound weight against it. His sneakers slipped on the dusty concrete.
Slowly, the barrel tipped. It hit the floor with a hollow BOOM.
Gilbert began to roll it. His breath came in jagged, wet whistles.
"Alpha... stamina..." he wheezed. His face turned a mottled shade of violet. "Grinding... the... logistics... XP..."
Five minutes passed. He had moved exactly four barrels to the front entrance.
He collapsed against the last one. His chest heaved so hard his Neko-Maid shirt threatened to shred its remaining seams.
Sweat poured off his forehead. It stung his eyes.
"Ah, uh, fuck. This is so tiring," Gilbert croaked. "The devs... clearly didn't... balance the weight... of the environment."
He looked around the aisles. His strategist mind clicked into gear despite the fatigue.
A boat needed more than just buoyancy. It needed a superstructure.
"Ropes," he muttered. He ticked items off a mental inventory.
"Buckets for baling. Tools. Elastic straps for the barrels. Heavy-duty tarps to keep the archives dry. What else..."
He paused. His eyes landed on a sign at the far end of the complex. It was visible through the rain-streaked front windows.
A massive silhouette of a leaping fish.
"Fishing equipment?!"
Gilbert's eyes bulged. "Bass Pro Shops! It's right next door! If we're going to be on the water, we need a sustainable protein loop!"
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
Provo_Prepper_88: "He's thinking about the long-game. Fishing gear? That's actually smart. I hate that he's being smart. 🎣📉"
Beehive_Babe_99: "He's going to try and catch a mermaid. I guarantee it. He's already looking at the 'lure' section with that creepy grin. 🧜♀️🤮"
Gamer_God_69: "Bass Pro Shops in a flood wave is a legendary loot drop. If he can secure the high-tier rods, they can farm mobs from the boat. 🎮📈"
Gilbert scrambled out the front door. The rain hit him like a physical assault.
The wind swirled with enough force to nearly knock him off his sore, trembling legs.
The water on the pavement was now deep enough to cover his sneakers entirely.
"Lucky me," he wheezed. He ducked his head against the gale. "The RNG is finally in my favor."
He ran toward the massive lodge-style entrance of the Bass Pro Shops. He was drenched. His hair matted to his skull like a drowned rat. His thighs chafed with every step.
He burst through the doors. His breath came in ragged gasps.
The interior was a dark, cavernous forest of taxidermy and camo-print. Gilbert didn't admire the decor.
He went feral on the aisles.
"Pre-made rods! S-Rank flexibility!"
He shouted to the empty store. He grabbed bundles of carbon-fiber poles.
"Lure kits! Rig kits! Very sturdy fishing lines—this is basically grappling hook material!"
He stuffed boxes of hooks, floats, and heavy-duty pliers into a salvaged plastic bin. His arms grew heavy.
A dull ache spread through his shoulders. But the dopamine hit of "looting" kept his central nervous system firing.
"I'm the Quartermaster of the Apocalypse!"
Gilbert barked. His voice echoed off a stuffed grizzly bear.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "Look at the greed in his eyes. He's not even checking the stats, he's just vacuuming the shelves. 🛒🤡"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "He's going to need all that if they're stuck on a raft! I hope he grabbed some waterproof matches! 🧼🔥"
Vile_Virtue: "He's acting like he's in a supermarket sweep. If a water-mob spawns now, he's a sitting duck with a bucket of hooks. 🍿"
Gilbert shambled back to the Home Depot entrance. He was staggering under the weight of the fishing gear and a new set of heavy-duty tarps.
He saw that the barrels he had moved were gone. Malenia had clearly returned and made another trip while he was "shopping."
He began placing his new goods into a large plastic container for Malenia to carry.
As he moved a stack of tarps, his eyes landed on a crumpled piece of paper lying on the concrete.
Gilbert picked it up. His jaw dropped.
His face shifted from exhausted violet to a bright, incandescent red.
The paper was a page from his "Sacred Texts"—specifically, a high-gloss centerfold from his Ahegao Goddesses collection.
But the faces of the blushing anime girls were obscured. On the back of the "Proportions" he cherished most, someone had written a list in crude, shaky charcoal.
Lumber (2x4)
Wood Screws (Long)
Power Drill (Charged)
Saw
"Courage?!"
Gilbert shrieked. His voice hit a pitch that probably shattered the store's remaining windows.
"You ripped out the pages?! You used my Limited Edition archives as a scratchpad?! God dam it, you mangy, pink Baka-dog!"
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
SLC_Savage: "THE DOG USED THE PORN AS A SHOPPING LIST. I AM DECEASED. HAHAHA! 🐕🤣"
Gamer_God_69: "Courage knows those are the only dry pieces of paper in the whole bunker. Tactical recycling. W Dog. 🐕🏆"
Beehive_Babe_99: "Gilbert is literally crying over a ripped page while the world is ending. The priorities are just... wow. 📉🤡"
"Whatever!"
Gilbert spat. He threw the paper to the floor before quickly snatching it back up. He couldn't bear to leave the "art" in the mud.
"What else did he want? Screws? Drills? Fine. I'll get the loot. But the dog is getting a severe 'Respect' debuff for this!"
Gilbert dashed back into the depths of the Home Depot. His body operated on pure, spiteful adrenaline.
He found the power tools. He grabbed a brushless impact driver and several spare batteries.
He hauled bags of galvanized screws and a circular saw toward the staging area.
By the time he finished, he was a hollowed-out husk. He sat on the floor of the entrance.
He leaned against a display of "Everlast" batteries. His vision swam.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
Provo_Prepper_88: "He's done. Look at the HUD. His 'Stamina' bar is literally flashing red. 📉"
Utah_Momma_Jen: "He did a good job. He got the tools. Now he just needs to get home and have a nice, long nap... and a bath. Please, a bath. 🧼🚿"
Five hours.
That was how long Gilbert sat in the dark warehouse. He watched the water creep up the store's handicap ramp.
Every few minutes, he would hear the distant, melodic clash of steel or a high-pitched scream from the streets.
He was too tired to move. He just clutched the Bass Pro bucket to his chest like a child.
Finally, a golden blur cut through the grey curtain of rain.
Malenia landed in the entrance. Her scarlet cape was now a heavy, sodden weight. It dragged behind her.
She didn't look tired—demigods didn't "tire"—but her eyeless helm was covered in a layer of grime and oil from the industrial mimics she had slaughtered.
She didn't speak.
She grabbed Gilbert by the back of his shirt. She scooped up the final container of supplies.
As they took to the sky, Gilbert's eyes widened. He looked down.
For the first time, the scale of the disaster hit him.
The Salt Lake Valley was no longer a city. It was a dark, churning ocean.
The skyscrapers looked like jagged tombstones rising from a muddy grave. The "Verdant Surge" was gone. It was replaced by a swirling mass of debris.
Cars were no more than dark shapes barely visible beneath the surface. Their headlights occasionally flickered one last time before shorting out.
"Oh shit," Gilbert whispered.
The cold wind whipped the words from his lips.
"It's... it's actually a Total Wipeout event."
Malenia said nothing. She flew with a grim, focused intensity.
The only thing she seemed to notice was the scent. She turned her head slightly away from the man she was carrying.
The combination of five hours of rolling barrels, the "musky" scent of unwashed 3XL polyester, and the sharp tang of strawberry lubricant was a chemical weapon.
Even the Goddess of Rot found it offensive.
"Thou reekest of a thousand deaths, master of filth," Malenia murmured.
Her voice vibrated with a lethal, quiet annoyance.
"If the flood does not claim thee, the stench surely shall."
Gilbert didn't respond. He was too busy staring at the spot where the adult store used to be.
It was an island now. It was surrounded by white-capped rapids.
And on the roof, Courage was waiting. He was already holding a hammer in his paws.