In each life, the pattern remained unchanged.
Jules remembered standing knee-deep in floodwater, clutching a photograph of her family as the current surged around her.
Scorching heat waves swept across continents. Torrential rains drowned cities. Floodwaters swallowed entire regions. Extreme winter followed, freezing what little remained.
Tsunamis erased coastlines.
Food and water became scarce.
Disease spread unchecked.
People fought over scraps.
By the second month, civilization had begun to collapse. Governments struggled to maintain control, and entire cities were abandoned.
But the disasters didn't stop.
Months passed, and the world continued to deteriorate.
By the sixth month, something strange began happening to the sky. Daylight grew weaker, and the sun seemed increasingly distant.
Then, in the eighth month, the sun disappeared from view.
For the first time, morning came without daylight.
People called it the beginning of the Dark Era.
They were wrong.
That was only the threshold.
I thought the darkness would be the end of us.
I hadn't yet learned what lived inside it.
This time, she had a system.
Jules sat on the edge of her bed, focusing on steady breathing as memories of past lives faded. She knew panic would only cloud her judgment. Yet, her fingers tapped rhythmically against the bed frame, a subtle echo of the anxiety she refused to acknowledge.
She needed a plan. And they were the key.
Her father was a respected businessman with vast connections and her mother was a doctor with access to medical resources and professional networks.
Convincing her family would be the hardest part.
If she told them directly that the world was ending, they would worry, question her judgment, and possibly intervene. She could not risk that with so little time.
So she would start small.
Carefully.
She focused on the translucent interface still hovering before her eyes and selected the beginner package details.
The world shifted.
She stood beneath an open sky.
The air was unnaturally clean, rich, and crisp, filling her lungs and making her chest feel lighter. Before her lay a vast, untouched, and fertile expanse of land.
A narrow stream crossed the fields, its surface shimmering. Nearby, a small pond reflected the sky. At the far edge stood a modest wooden cabin.
Jules looked toward the wooden cabin.
It was small, almost painfully ordinary compared to the bases she had lived in before.
But the land surrounding it stretched farther than she could comfortably see.
She turned slowly, studying the open fields, the stream, and the distant horizon.
There were no walls.
No guards.
No visible defenses.
In her eighth life, she had helped build a base that survived five years, only to watch it fall.
What made this place any different?
"System, can other people enter this space?"
She waited.
No response came.
"Can I bring my family here?"
Still nothing.
Jules stared at the empty sky.
For the first time since entering, the peaceful silence felt unsettling.
A place like this could change everything.
But only if she could bring the people she loved with her.
Jules crouched beside the stream and dipped her fingers into the water.
As the water touched her skin, a subtle but unmistakable warmth spread up her arm.
Her vision blurred briefly as a new notification appeared.
[Environmental Notice:]
Water source infused with condensed ambient energy ( later referred as vital flux.)
Effects: gradual enhancement of physical resilience and recovery.]
Consumption by plants, animals, or hosts will yield cumulative benefits.]
She cupped her hands and drank.
The water was cool, clean, and invigorating. The persistent ache in her body eased slightly.
Jules stared at the notification.
[Estimated Observable Effects: 30 Days.]
Thirty days.
She almost laughed.
The System had given her ninety days to prepare, and its first useful discovery required a third of that time to produce noticeable results.
I don't have thirty days to waste.
Her father had the resources. Her mother had the knowledge. Together, they could accomplish more in a week than Jules could manage alone in a month.
But how was she supposed to explain everything?
I've died eight times. The world is going to end. And there's a piece of land hidden inside a dimension that only I can access.
They would think she was sick.
Or worse, they would believe her enough to become frightened but not enough to act.
Jules rubbed her forehead.
Two weeks.
She would give herself two weeks to show them something they couldn't easily dismiss.
Jules placed a large leaf in water from the stream.
If the System wouldn't tell her whether other people could enter the dimension, she would have to discover its limitations herself.
She focused on returning to her bedroom.
The world shifted.
She looked down at the leaf still in her hands.
The water had come with her.
A small victory.
Now she had to find out whether it would work on someone other than herself.
If she used this water in cooking, would they change?
It's worth a shot.
And during those two weeks, she would prepare as much as possible.
If the changes weren't noticeable by then, she would tell them anyway.
She couldn't afford to wait any longer.
She exited the space.
Back in her room, Jules sat up straighter.
She would cook.
She would tell them the truth after two weeks. After all, her father would see the bank statements.
Not before.
Not yet.
Her gaze shifted to her phone.
Money was the next obstacle.
She did not have sufficient resources to prepare on her own, but her father did.
She inhaled deeply and stood.
Downstairs, her parents sat in the living room as she approached.
"I was thinking," Jules said, forcing a light tone. "For the next month, I want to handle all the cooking. Every meal."
Her mother blinked. "All of it?"
Jules nodded. "I want to learn properly. I've been watching a lot of videos. I want to try."
Her parents exchanged a glance. Her father studied her with narrowed eyes, his brow slightly furrowed, a subtle sign of concern and curiosity.
"Why would you suddenly want to cook every meal when you're leaving for college in two months? Shouldn't you be shopping for your dorm?" her father, Kaelen, asked, adjusting his glasses.
My eyes flicked toward his glasses.
The same glasses I remembered seeing crushed beneath...
No.
My throat tightened.
Not that life. Not the seventh.
I dug my nails into my palms, desperate to force the memory back where it belonged.
Serina's smile faded when she noticed Jules's clenched fists.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?"
Jules tried to answer, but her throat refused to cooperate.
Her mother gently opened her hands, revealing the crescent-shaped marks left by her fingernails.
"Jules?"
"I'm fine," she whispered.
I wasn't. But she was here, holding my hands. That was enough for now.
"…Alright," her mother said after a moment, smiling. "If that's what you want."
Relief washed through her, but the crescent-shaped marks remained on her palms.
"And," Jules added, "I'll need groceries. Higher quality ingredients."
Her father forced a chuckle and reached into his wallet, handing her a sleek black card.
"Don't go too wild," he said softly.
She forced a smile in return, her heart pounding.
"I won't."
That was a lie.
A month was what she told them.
Two weeks was all she intended to wait.
By then, she would either have proof or be forced to tell them everything.
Once she had the card, her preparations accelerated.
She rented two warehouses in Clearwater, large enough for bulk supplies and discreet enough to avoid online attention. To ensure the safety and integrity of the stored goods, Jules implemented basic security measures, including surveillance cameras and reinforced locks. She also arranged for climate control systems to preserve perishable items and maintain optimal storage conditions.
Her first orders were for food.
Rice. Flour. Beans. Salt. Preserved meats. Cooking oil. Enough to feed her family long after the stores had been stripped bare.
In my first life, we starved because we waited for someone to save us.
Never again.
From Tavora, she ordered treated timber, greenhouse materials, irrigation systems, and high-yield seeds.
She remembered the mutated plants that had devoured her family outside Greenvale.
This time, she would control what grew near their home.
Namar supplied industrial generators, reinforced vehicles, fuel reserves, and heavy machinery.
She remembered vehicles abandoned along flooded highways, engines that refused to start in freezing temperatures, and bases that fell when their defenses failed.
She wasn't simply buying equipment.
She was preparing answers to problems that had already killed her.
Even with expedited shipping, some orders would take weeks. Others were scheduled to arrive dangerously close to the ninety-day deadline.
Jules knew she was taking a risk.
But she needed every advantage she could get.
By the time the world began to deteriorate, she intended to be fully prepared.
She believed the effort would be worthwhile.
Jules stared at the final order confirmation.
For the first time in eight lifetimes, she wasn't running from the apocalypse.
She was preparing to meet it.
Her phone vibrated.
[Transaction Alert: S20,000.00]
The first payment.
Not even a fraction of what she would eventually need.
Jules stared at the notification.
Her father's card.
He was going to notice.
Sooner than she had planned.
Clearwater was waiting.
The place Kian had once claimed held the best location for a survival base.
At least, that's what he told me.
Jules tightened her grip on her keys.
And she still had a base to build.