Lucas was still mapping out timelines in his head when the migraine hit.
It wasn't like before—no flood of Julius's memories. This was sharp. Sudden. Almost… summoning.
He braced himself against the desk.
The world went silent.
The bedroom vanished.
The manor vanished.
And when he blinked—
He was standing on grass.
Real grass.
A vast stretch of land unfolded beneath an open sky that glowed with soft, perpetual daylight. The air was crisp and impossibly clean, free of pollution, free of tension. It filled his lungs like something alive.
To his left stood a massive warehouse—industrial in scale, large enough to store years' worth of supplies. Its metal exterior gleamed faintly, untouched by rust or age.
Beyond it—
A lake shimmered like liquid crystal.
The surface carried a faint glow, threads of light weaving beneath the water as if energy pulsed through it. Even from several steps away, Lucas could feel it—gentle but potent.
Understanding came instinctively.
Spiritual water.
He approached slowly and crouched by the shore, dipping his fingers in.
Warmth spread up his arm instantly.
Not heat—energy.
Clean. Restorative. Powerful.
Information surfaced in his mind as if the space itself was explaining.
This water was a cheat.
A powerful one.
It could accelerate wound healing, closing injuries far faster than normal medicine ever could. It could purge illnesses from the body, strengthen immunity, and detoxify harmful substances. It nourished the body at a cellular level, improving vitality over time. Crops irrigated with it would grow at astonishing speeds, richer and more resilient than anything cultivated outside.
It was life condensed into liquid form.
Lucas's pulse quickened.
With enough supply, he could keep everyone in peak condition. Injuries in the early chaos of the apocalypse wouldn't automatically become death sentences. Malnutrition wouldn't be an issue. Disease outbreaks in survivor camps wouldn't touch them.
He looked across the land again.
Behind him stretched fertile farmland—dark, nutrient-rich soil that felt almost sacred beneath his feet. Crops could flourish here year-round. Further out lay rolling green pastures enclosed by simple fencing, more than enough space to raise livestock.
The warehouse.
The farmland.
The pastures.
The lake.
A fully self-sustaining ecosystem.
But then the final piece of knowledge settled in his mind—
A limitation.
The spiritual water could heal.
It could detox.
It could purge poisons and sickness.
But it could not cure the zombie virus.
If someone were bitten or deeply scratched by a mutated creature and the infection took hold, the water would slow deterioration slightly at best—but it would not reverse transformation.
There was no miracle solution.
Lucas exhaled slowly.
So carelessness would still mean death.
Or worse.
Even with this dimension, even with this cheat, he couldn't afford mistakes. The children couldn't afford mistakes. Kayden couldn't afford them.
He rose to his feet, droplets of glowing water sliding from his fingertips.
This space was bound to him. He could enter and exit with a thought. Time flowed more gently here—crops would mature faster, livestock healthier, supplies preserved indefinitely inside the warehouse.
In the original novel, nothing like this had ever existed.
Which meant this advantage belonged to him alone.
A transmigrator's gift.
Hope, sharp and unfamiliar, stirred in his chest.
Eight months until the apocalypse.
Now he had food security. Medical advantage. Agricultural dominance.
But survival would still depend on strategy.
And on avoiding a single bite.
Lucas looked out across the shimmering lake, blue eyes steady.
The world might be ending.
But this time—
They wouldn't face it unprepared.