Arno's final moments were spent lying in bed, watching the seconds tick by on his wristwatch until, in the blink of an eye, he found himself transported to the apocalypse. He was in the same location where he had previously left, although the zombies that once roamed there had long since wandered off. A thought suddenly struck Arno: how exactly had this particular location been chosen for his transportation? Now, with the sun slowly descending around five in the afternoon, it was certainly not an opportune moment to inquire of Zora.

  Glancing around, Arno saw the fields that had lain abandoned for three years and seven months, overgrown with weeds, with not a trace of rice to be found. He did not even know what region he was in, and returning to the nearby town was out of the question. His only option was to follow the road, hoping to find a safe spot to spend his first night in this post-apocalyptic world before total darkness fell.

  The road connected to many villages, all of which Arno avoided from a distance. The XR virus, which had infected locations globally, would surely have spread to these places as well. Unlike other less-populated regions, the American region was teeming with inhabitants, comprising an astonishing 2.1 billion, more than a quarter of the global population. Only five years after the formation of a federal government in 2050, this apocalyptic crisis had caused its instant collapse.

  Small villages with populations ranging from a few hundred to a couple of thousand were far beyond what Arno could handle alone. He regretted not arming himself with a gun, as he had access to information that would have told him that he was no longer the man he had been just yesterday. His mother had seemingly stimulated his genes, granting him innate shooting skills and the ability to drive various vehicles. This new knowledge was ingrained in him, reacting as pure instinct.

  Arno walked along the road for approximately an hour and a half, bypassing three small villages before finally finding an open hillock. Standing atop the hill, he had a clear view of his surroundings for several hundred meters, allowing him to quickly detect any approaching zombies. Despite the sun having set, Arno's keen eyesight enabled him to carefully survey the area. Upon confirming that no zombies were nearby, he settled by a wind-blocking stone to rest for the night.

  Having feasted just over two hours ago, Arno was not hungry, but he did need to gather firewood. The more time he spent in this post-apocalyptic world, the more he realized his lack of preparation for necessities like bedding, fire fuel, and a flashlight. However, with only a cubic meter of storage space available, he realized even a single blanket would take up most of the room, leaving no space for anything else.

  Dry branches were abundant on the hill, and Arno quickly collected a large pile. He lit a cigarette with his lighter, enjoying the moment of relaxation. He wasn't particularly dependent on smoking or drinking, but in times of high stress, a cigarette could alleviate the pressure.

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  After finishing his cigarette and darkness limiting his visibility to only a few meters, Arno kindled a small fire. He then arranged three stones in front of it and took out a steel pot, intending to place it over the fire. To his embarrassment, he realized that he had no water. Being on a hillock, the nearest river was over three hundred meters away, making fetching water an impossibility.

  Out of desperation, Arno could only retrieve several cans of cola, muttering to himself, "Cola with instant noodles? Heh, it's a first for me." He pulled the tabs on the cans, pouring the cola one by one into the pot, and set it over the fire. Fortunately, Arno was no pampered young master; cooking something like this was well within his abilities.

  Since there wasn't much cola, it began to boil within minutes. Arno took two packages of instant noodles from his storage, tore them open, added them to the pot, along with the seasoning, and a delicious aroma filled the air in the blink of an eye. He inhaled deeply, savoring the smell mingled with the scent of cola, which seemed rather pleasing, though he wondered how it would taste. As Arno was about to serve the noodles, he realized, to his embarrassment, that he had no bowl or cutlery.

  "What now..." he mumbled, frustrated with himself. Was he to eat from the pot? Arno glanced around, thinking, "Who cares? There's no one here to laugh at me. It's a solution."

  But his plan was interrupted by the distant sound of a car engine. Leaving the noodles, he stood and looked behind a rock, seeing a dim car light approaching, following the road in the direction he had fled. The car wasn't moving fast, but it arrived at the base of the hill within a few minutes.

  Soon, the car squealed to a halt, and two figures jumped out. As soon as they exited the vehicle, they turned on their flashlights and scanned the area. Arno squinted, recognizing a small van, rusty and battered, with even the windshield half-shattered. The two individuals, a man and a woman, emerged. The man was tall and robust, while the woman had a tall, slender figure, her explosive physique accentuated by a tight-fitting coat. To Arno's disappointment, the dim light prevented a clear view of her face, but her figure suggested exceptional beauty.

  Both individuals held guns, and after ensuring no zombies were within a radius of ten meters, the woman flashed her light three times at the van. The door opened again, and seven more people emerged.

  Arno frowned, for he noticed that these seven were all elderly, young, or infirm. Three old, three young, along with a man in his thirties whose thigh was bound with a bandage. What surprised Arno even more was that they seemed to be heading for the very hill where he was located, assisting one another as they climbed.

  Seeing the small fire still burning on the rock, Arno considered putting it out but then thought better of it. Given the looks of their guns, if they mistook him for a zombie in the dark and opened fire, he'd be done for.

  The fire was quite noticeable in the dark, and the group quickly spotted it. The robust man rushed forward, gun raised, flashlight shining, shouting, "Who's there?" His stance suggested readiness to shoot if something felt amiss, for countless experiences on the road had taught him that complacency could never be afforded.