Can you even imagine what it feels like to get drenched in freezing water at −100°F?
Ethan Cross grabbed a heavy-duty hose and blasted the thugs outside his door.
With a temperature difference of nearly 200°F between inside and out, the water was literally steaming as it shot out.But the moment it hit those bastards, it turned to ice almost instantly.
They were all wearing puffer coats and sweaters—But once soaked, it felt like they'd been thrown into a meat locker.
"Holy f**k! It's freezing! I'm gonna die out here!"
"AAAH! STOP! PLEASE, STOP!"
Right then, they would've preferred getting their asses kicked to this frozen torture.
Their lips turned purple. A couple of them collapsed from hypothermia on the spot.
Pure instinct made them flee.
In just ten seconds, they were drenched head to toe—clothes frozen stiff, like walking ice sculptures.
Most couldn't even make it to the elevator.Their limbs locked up before they got far.
Ethan finally turned off the water.
Originally, he'd considered using the crossbow,But loading was slow and left a risk of counterattack through the firing slit.
This?This was way more efficient.
Back in Mason Carter's apartment, the soaked thugs stumbled in like drowned rats.
Mason nearly flipped the table.
"Where the hell is he? Did you bring him back?!"
But the goons were too busy fighting for blankets and dry clothes.
Every single one of them was soaked.Their coats had frozen solid.
With too many people and too few blankets, a few of them just stripped and huddled together for warmth.
It was… awkward, to say the least.
Mason was about to explode.
"Someone better explain to me what the hell happened!"
Shivering and chattering, one thug finally spoke up:
"That Ethan guy's a fking psycho… he hit us with a fking water cannon! We couldn't take it!"
"And that door of his? We hammered it for ten minutes—it didn't even dent!"
Mason's face turned dark.
He remembered trying to smash that door himself—it was solid as hell.
Forcing their way in wasn't going to be easy.
But then he smirked.
"Doesn't matter. Even if he's hiding in a goddamn fortress, he's gotta come out eventually."
"Just wait outside his place. The second he steps out—end him."
His thugs nodded, still freezing, but trying to act tough.
Too bad for them—Ethan had no plans of ever leaving.
Why the hell would he?
Outside was a frozen hellscape.Inside was paradise.
Why would anyone swap heaven for hell?
With Mason and his crew dealt with (again), Ethan tossed his controller aside and leaned back.
Sure, they'd try again.
But they weren't getting through that door.
As for him?
Not a f**king chance he was stepping outside.
Even a 0.01% risk of exposure was too much.
He was perfectly happy staying right where he was.
Safe. Warm. Untouchable.
Later, Ethan wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window to check the neighborhood.
To his surprise, there were still people outside trying to shovel snow.
He spotted Mr. York, the retired vet and building security guard—one of the few good guys.
Beside him, a bunch of honest young residents from the chat group were digging through snowdrifts almost 10 feet tall.
Linda the Council Queen?
Nowhere to be seen.
Ethan shook his head.
They meant well, sure.
But digging a path from the building to the gate? That would take an entire day.And what then?
The streets outside were buried too.
That kind of snow could only be cleared by industrial plows—And this wasn't a city equipped for it.
Even worse?
At −100°F, no one could survive outside for long.
Without proper gear, frostbite hit fast.Half an hour out there, and you'd lose a toe—or worse.
Ethan sighed.
Those poor suckers were trying.But it was hopeless.
He didn't say anything. Not his problem.
His only priority now?
Staying alive.
By afternoon, his stomach was growling.
He opened his personal dimension and pulled out a simple lunch:A whole Australian lobster, a Wellington steak, two sesame buns, and a cold bottle of Coke.
And that?Was one of his light meals.
Living alone, Ethan had completely lost track of time.
He slept when he felt like it.Ate when he was hungry.Day and night? Who cared.
Outside, the snowstorm still raged.
He glanced out the window again.
The snow they'd cleared earlier?Already buried again.
At some point, those volunteers must've realized…
You can't beat Mother Nature with a f**king shovel.
Inside, Ethan lounged in thermal wear on his couch.The room was a cozy 81°F.
He turned on the TV.
Most stations had gone dark—Only the national and provincial channels were still broadcasting.
The content?Pure propaganda.
"Our focus now turns to the capital. Leadership is directing a final assault on the blizzard crisis!"
"In America, over 200 million people have been affected. Tens of millions are dead!"
"Here at home, the situation is under control. Progress is being made."
"Remain calm. Trust in the government."
Ethan chuckled.
Yeah. Good luck with that.
This wasn't a snowstorm.
It was the apocalypse.
And human beings?
We were never prepared.