The First Invention

For the next week, I had a singular focus: prepare.

I had one month before the world collapsed, and every second counted.

With only $0.48 to my name, I had no choice but to scavenge, steal, and create.

Step one: Find raw materials.

Step two: Start building survival gear.

Step three: Secure a long-term hideout.

The first two steps needed to happen immediately. The third could wait until I had enough resources to leave the city safely.

I left the apartment at dawn, my hunting knife strapped to my side and my newly acquired multi-tool tucked into my pocket.

New Vale City was quiet.

Too quiet.

The streets were still normal—people going to work, cars honking, the scent of coffee wafting from a corner café.

But I knew that in less than a month, this entire city would be a wasteland of burning cars, screaming survivors, and rampaging mutants.

And most of the people around me?

Dead within the first two weeks.

I moved quickly, heading toward my first scavenging target.

By the time I reached Northpoint Scrap Yard, the sun had fully risen.

The place was a goldmine of old parts—rusted cars, broken electronics, discarded machinery. I hopped the chain-link fence with ease, landing softly in the dirt.

Using [Hypermind], I scanned the yard, my brain instantly sorting materials by usefulness.

✔ Scrap Metal – Could be reforged into armor plating.

✔ Copper Wiring – Needed for building electrical devices.

✔ Old Car Batteries – Could be modified into backup power sources.

✔ Steel Pipes – Perfect for creating makeshift weapons.

I grabbed an old shopping cart and began loading up everything I could find.

Halfway through, I spotted something even better—an old welding torch and a nearly full gas tank.

Bingo.

With this, I could start creating metal reinforcements and prototype weapons.

After two hours, I had everything I needed to start crafting.

But just as I was about to leave, I heard voices.

---

I ducked behind a rusted truck, heart pounding.

Three men in leather jackets stood near the junkyard entrance, talking in hushed tones. Each carried baseball bats and crowbars—low-level thugs.

I recognized them from the novel.

The Northpoint Scavengers.

In Endless Ruin, they started as a small gang, but after the apocalypse, they evolved into one of the biggest raider factions in the city. By the third month, they were fully armed warlords, kidnapping survivors and burning down settlements.

And if I didn't get out of here quietly, they'd find me long before the world even ended.

I carefully maneuvered around the junk piles, keeping my movements silent and controlled. My brain calculated the best escape path—a small opening in the fence, thirty meters away.

I moved.

Step. Step.

Almost there.

A footstep crunched behind me.

"You lost, kid?"

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I turned.

The largest of the three men—a tall, tattooed guy with a scar down his cheek—was staring at me. His two lackeys flanked him, both gripping their weapons.

I kept my expression neutral.

"Just picking up scrap," I said.

Scarface smirked. "That so? Looks like you got some good stuff in that cart."

His gaze flickered to the welding torch.

"Tell you what," he continued. "Why don't you leave that behind and get lost?"

I knew how this ended in the novel.

If I backed down, they'd beat me up and take everything.

If I fought now, I'd be outnumbered three to one.

So I chose option three.

I exhaled slowly, my mind racing.

I couldn't fight them directly, but I could outthink them.

My eyes flicked to a rusted car door leaning against a pile of junk behind them.

It was propped up precariously.

If I could tilt it at the right angle…

I moved quickly, pretending to step back while subtly kicking a steel pipe that had been wedged under the door.

CREAK.

The rusted door tipped forward—right onto Scarface.

"Shit!"

He stumbled, barely catching himself before the heavy metal crashed against his shoulder.

I used the distraction.

I lunged forward, swinging the heavy-duty flashlight like a club.

CRACK.

The guy on the left went down instantly, clutching his face.

The second lackey swung his crowbar—I dodged, twisting my body as [Hypermind] calculated the exact angle of attack.

I grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it into his eyes.

"AHH—"

He staggered back.

I grabbed a steel pipe from my cart and swung it like a baton.

WHAM.

The second thug collapsed.

Only Scarface remained.

He snarled, pulling a knife.

But he hesitated.

He had just watched me take out his guys in less than five seconds.

"Not worth it," he muttered, backing away. "This ain't over, kid."

He turned and ran.

I exhaled.

Victory.

But this wasn't over.

---

I hauled my cart back to my apartment, locking the door behind me.

I had won the fight, but it had been too close.

I needed better weapons.

That meant it was time to build my first real invention.

I pulled out my scavenged materials:

✔ Scrap Metal

✔ Copper Wiring

✔ Old Car Battery

✔ Welding Torch

With [Hypermind] running at full speed, I sketched out a blueprint.

Prototype One: Shock Gauntlets

Base Design: Reinforced tactical gloves with embedded copper wiring.

Power Source: Small battery pack connected to an electric pulse generator.

Effect: When activated, delivers a high-voltage shock on impact—perfect for stunning enemies.

Time to get to work.

For the next twelve hours, I built.

Using the welding torch, I reinforced the gloves with thin plates of metal plating.

I stripped the copper wiring and connected it to a compact voltage regulator, ensuring the electricity wouldn't backfire on me.

Finally, I modified a switch mechanism inside the gloves—allowing me to activate the electric pulse with a flick of my fingers.

By the time I finished, it was nearly midnight.

I slipped on the gloves, feeling the weight of the reinforced design.

Then, I tested them.

Flick.

Electricity crackled along my fingers, illuminating the dimly lit apartment.

I clenched my fists.

This was just the beginning.

---

One week until my stock market investment pays off.

One month until the apocalypse begins.

I had survived my first real fight, but there were bigger threats coming.

Mutants. Warlords. Superhumans.

I needed better weapons, stronger armor, and a real base.

And if the world was going to burn…

Then I would be the one building something from the ashes.

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