The morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty windows of Kane's mountain home, casting long streaks of light across the scattered blueprints and schematics that blanketed the worktable. He leaned over the desk, eyes sharp and calculating as he reviewed his finances once more. The numbers still balanced in his favor — his grandfather's estate and his own careful savings had left him with over a million in the bank. More than enough to make the next critical move.
Two weeks. That was his target.
The island he had identified wasn't far from the mainland — a small, forested refuge nestled away from shipping lanes and prying eyes. Accessible by boat, but distant enough to offer safety from the gathering chaos. Kane imagined it as his stronghold, a place where he and Reina could survive when the world outside descended into madness.
He reached for his laptop and opened the encrypted financial accounts he had set up under a network of shell companies. Within moments, the transfer orders were drafted and ready — the purchase price, the maintenance costs, the covert transfer of ownership — all arranged with military precision.
Meanwhile, the basement buzzed softly with mechanical life. The first wing of drones was already operational, but Kane knew this wasn't enough. The coming apocalypse would require more than surveillance and basic combat — he needed firepower, and fast.
He tapped into the system interface and queued new drone manufacturing orders, this time incorporating components salvaged from the recent mall raids. Frames with reinforced plating, advanced targeting modules, and power cores optimized for longer flight times.
As the drones began to assemble, Kane mapped out his next move: weapon store raids scattered across the city. Unlike the hardware and electronic stores he'd emptied before, these locations were fortified and guarded, holding small arms, explosives, and tactical gear. Acquiring their stock would provide the ammunition and ordinance necessary to upgrade his combat drones — particularly the missile and gunner variants.
The plan was simple in outline but complex in execution: stealthy night raids, precise and clean, leaving no evidence behind. The military lessons from his youth echoed in his mind — reconnaissance, timing, extraction.
Across the house, Reina was in her own world. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by her toys, she concentrated hard. The familiar warmth of the artifact shimmered faintly nearby, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Her favorite stuffed rabbit stood upright, its button eyes gleaming as it moved gracefully in response to her will. This time, its movements were smoother, more purposeful. It darted forward, then spun in a perfect circle before coming to rest beside her.
Reina's brow furrowed with concentration, but a small smile spread across her face.
"It's working," Kane said softly from the doorway, watching his sister's progress with a mixture of pride and caution. "You're getting better at it."
She looked up, beaming. "The toys listen now, Kane. They do what I want."
He nodded. The artifact was a blessing and a mystery, and as much as it gave them an edge, it demanded respect and control.
Back downstairs, Kane returned to the holo-map of the city, marking weapon store locations with red dots. Security schedules, guard rotations, nearby escape routes — every detail was logged with precision.
The clock on the system interface blinked with the grim reminder.
Global Collapse Countdown: 47 Days, 12 Hours, 34 Minutes
Two weeks remained before the island transfer would be finalized, and even less before the world would start to fall apart. Every moment was precious.
Kane took a deep breath and turned back to his machines. The war was coming, and he intended to be ready.