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08:34 a.m.
2 days before the Apocalypse
•••
"Finally back on solid ground. I'm sick of planes… sick of constant movement. Thinking carefully, I stayed longer than planned—but that's fine. One extra day is insignificant. Especially after that little accident at the military base."
I tell myself this as I rise from the bed I collapsed onto just minutes ago. My gaze sweeps across the room, calmly taking in the scenery.
Commit it to memory.
Once the Apocalypse begins, moments like this will be erased without mercy.
"Let's review what's left."
I open the system and bring up my 'small' list of necessities—compiled with a modern mindset, but guided by future knowledge.
#=======#
08:38 a.m.
General supplies… (in the process of acquisition)
Fuel (in process)
Fertilizer, seeds, and machinery for confined-space farming (in process; no suitable machinery alternatives identified yet)
Food in general (in process; some canned goods secured—everything else will be supplemented when I empty the oversized warehouse where I work)
…
#========#
"That should be everything."
I pause.
"…No. It always feels like something is missing."
After a moment, I dismiss the thought.
"If it's not written down, it's not critical. Anything truly vital would already be accounted for."
My expression hardens.
"The real problem is execution."
Cameras. Employees. Logs. Oversight.
I scan the room, and my eyes settle on an old coffee cup sitting untouched since the beginning of the month.
My lips curve slightly.
"That'll do."
"If I lace the coffee with sleeping pills, everyone will drink it—routine is a powerful thing. The effects will be gradual. By the time they notice, their bodies will already be compromised."
"I'll move through the blind spots, secure the cameras, then proceed. Even if someone catches a glimpse of me, it won't matter. One day remains before the end of the world."
"To be thorough, I'll wear oversized shoes, alter my silhouette, and drink the tainted coffee myself afterward."
"No evidence. No clean trail."
"And even if they somehow connect the dots… by the time they do, civilization will already be collapsing."
*I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly as I finalize the plan. Everything is set for tomorrow. I notify my boss that I'll be working and request the weekend off—an excuse to 'visit a cousin' in Jiang City. A preemptive alibi. Clean. Boring. Believable.*
•••
*I arrive at the warehouse earlier than usual. The manager is unlocking the doors; I slip inside the moment he opens them. Like a model employee, I start brewing coffee for everyone—no hesitation, no suspicion, no sign of the additional ingredient.*
*The day unfolds normally. I oversee inventory, verify placements, and maintain appearances. Gradually, yawns begin to appear. Slower movements. Heavy eyelids.*
Good.
I head toward an isolated corner near the rest area and wait.
One by one, bodies surrender to chemistry.
I wait an extra ten minutes.
Margin for error: zero.
*During that window, I change into layered clothing that distorts my body shape, adding bulk. Shoes three sizes too large. Mask. Glasses. Hood. A different person entirely.*
Time's up.
*I slip through a known blind spot and store the first camera. Then I deliberately stage a rear entry, creating a false narrative for any later reconstruction. One by one, I remove every camera I know of, sealing them away in my internal space.*
Thirty minutes.
All eyes removed.
My attention shifts to the warehouse itself.
"Speed matters now."
*I push my agility to its limit. Noise is irrelevant—silence would be more suspicious in a place like this. Shelves vanish. Crates disappear. Entire rows are swallowed.*
One hour.
Then another half.
Everything is gone.
*I stage an exit, return to the last recorded camera location, strip off the disguise, and store every trace. Then I take a sip of the altered coffee.*
Sleep claims me.
#========#
Back home, I sit in silence. My body is heavy—partly from the drugs, partly from the three-hour interrogation that followed. I replay events clinically, without emotion.
#======#
Chaos erupts at the warehouse.
I wake to shouting, phones ringing endlessly. My skull throbs as footsteps approach.
"Supervisor Drakkon! Everything is gone—everything! What do we do?! We'll be fired… maybe arrested! Management says no one leaves until the police arrive. Headquarters is furious—calling the supervisor incompetent, accusing him of cooperating with thieves!"
I turn slowly, keeping my expression neutral.
"Calm down."
"The coffee was drugged. None of us are responsible."
"And emptying a warehouse of this size is impossible without high-level authorization. If anything, this smells like an inside job from upper management."
The young man exhales, visibly steadier, and returns to his group.
I make a point of drinking unmodified coffee.
Standing out now would be stupid.
#---------#
"Is that really all you know?!"
The officer slams his hand on the table.
"You expect me to believe everyone passed out and the warehouse simply vanished?! Don't throw your future away protecting your bosses! Just say it was ordered from above and this ends now!"
I repeat the same account. Calm. Consistent.
After thirty minutes, it's obvious what they think.
Insurance fraud.
A corporate play.
Perfect.
#=========#
A proper nap clears my head.
Now comes the final stretch.
Less than a day remains. Anything not secured now will be lost forever. The planting machine must be placed on the train later—assuming events mirror the novel. I also need more fuel, if possible.
I grab the keys and get into my predecessor's car—old, but reliable. As I drive toward Jiang City, I consider my next move.
"Approaching him directly as a neighbor won't work."
"Being prepared too early raises suspicion."
"The Infinite Train announcement after the Apocalypse begins… that's the opening."
"I'll respond then. Join naturally. Reveal we're neighbors by coincidence."
"No pressure. No anomalies."
"Just another survivor with foresight."
I drive on, traffic flowing around me, Jiang City drawing closer.
as i stop here and there to pick some more suplies , principaly fuel , and some snacks as o like them
Do It ever matter? will i be capable of altering something or will i just be irrelevant and die soon?
•••