Frost Apocalypse: My Trash Stone Dominates the Reborn Villain

Four hours remain before the global temperature plummets and the eternal, frigid night descends.

In my dilapidated slum apartment on Chicago's South Side, the temperature has abnormally dropped to freezing. The old radiators have long since failed, the wind outside howls like a wild beast, and pale frost is visibly forming in the cracks of the glass.

I sit on the moldy sofa, my gaze coldly fixed on the broken coffee table in front of me.

There lie two meteorites I'd casually picked up from a black market stall a few hours earlier—one the size of an adult's fist, radiating a warm, reddish glow as if flowing magma; the other, the size of a walnut, a rough-surfaced, jet-black obsidian like coal dust.

Everything is just like in my past life.

"Bang—!"

Just then, the already rickety security door is kicked open, the rusty lock shattering into pieces. A biting wind, carrying the musty smell of the hallway, rushes in.

Four heavily armed gangsters swarmed into my cramped living room like ghosts , their dark rifles, radiating cold killing intent, pressed firmly against my head.

Then, a pair of gleaming custom-made leather shoes crunched through the sawdust on the floor.

Luke.

The brother I called "brother" in my past life, the one who ultimately sent me to hell.

He wore an extremely ostentatious high-end polar winter coat, hands in his pockets, looking down at me with a gun pointed at my head, a hypocritical smile on his face, barely concealed yet barely suppressed, ecstatic glee.

“Brother, don’t blame me.” Luke’s gaze was greedily fixed on the glowing red 'Seraphim Spark,’ and he sighed insincerely. “The Eden Financial Group has offered a five million dollar bounty for this red stone, plus an unlimited ticket to their top-tier underground shelter. It’s too cold outside, I don’t want to die in this slum… so, I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you.”

The moment I heard his words, a rifle was pointed at my head. I slowly raised my hands, my breathing seemingly rapid, but deep inside, a chilling storm was brewing.

On this day in my previous life, at this time, the news that the 'Seraphim Spark' could be exchanged for a ticket hadn’t even circulated in the market! Even the all-powerful Eden Financial Group only detected the existence of this high-concentration heat source through life detectors more than half a month after the apocalypse!

And now Luke could lead his men to precisely kick down my door and accurately call out that price that only appeared after the apocalypse.

Without a doubt—this bastard, like me, had been reborn!

Looking at Luke's smug, self-assured face, a palpable killing intent, like a blizzard, burned deep within my eyes. My heart was aching, a pain etched into my very soul!

In my past life, I was the one who, by a twist of fate, brought the "Seraphim's Flame" into the conglomerate's sanctuary.

He thought I was enjoying a life of luxury there, but he had no idea that the red stone was a vampiric monster! Those beasts of the conglomerate didn't treat me like a human being. They pierced my limbs with thick, steel needles, locked me in the darkest boiler room at the bottom, forcibly draining my life force to nourish the stone, turning me into a living "heating battery"!

Every day I was engulfed in flames, suffering a fate worse than death, is still vivid in my memory.

Later, I broke my arm and desperately escaped the bunker, collapsing, barely alive, in the snow, pleading with Luke for help. But what I got in return was his face, twisted with extreme jealousy, and a cold-blooded hunting knife plunged deep into my heart!

Recalling the heart-wrenching betrayal of my past life, I stared at the smug Luke before me, frantically suppressing the urge to grab the gun and blow his head off.

No, killing him with one shot would be too easy.

I had to go with the flow, let him wear this death warrant himself, let him taste the despair of being drained of his marrow like a battery!

"Luke… what kind of brother are you? That's mine!" I immediately channeled my inner actor, my eyes bloodshot, deliberately feigning shock, resentment, and extreme humiliation, staring intently at him.

"Sorry, Renn, in the apocalypse, we don't talk about feelings, only bargaining chips." Luke laughed smugly, grabbing the "Seraphic Flame" without hesitation and stuffing it into his inner pocket. As if afraid that if he hesitated even a second, this privilege to the top of the pyramid would slip away.

After taking the red stone, his peripheral vision caught sight of the dull obsidian left on the table.

To demonstrate his victorious "mercy" to his former comrades, Luke scoffed, raised his shoe, and kicked the rubbish stone to my feet.

"For the sake of our past friendship, I'll leave you something. That piece of junk is yours. Maybe when you're freezing to death in a couple of days, you can stuff it in your pocket and it'll even stop a stray bullet! Hahahaha!"

Luke's maniacal laughter echoed in the living room, then he abruptly waved his hand: "Retreat! The helicopter's waiting for us on the rooftop. I'm off to embrace the new world!"

The gunmen retreated one by one. As the chaotic footsteps faded into the distance, and a few minutes later, the roar of a car engine drove away from the dilapidated apartment building, I slowly lowered my raised hands.

The humiliation, anger, and helplessness on my face vanished the instant the engine noise disappeared.

Instead, a chilling, cruel, and utterly mocking laugh, like that of the Grim Reaper, filled me with malice.

"Go, enjoy your 'unparalleled wealth,' Luke." I lowered my head, staring at the obsidian on the ground, muttering like a demon, "The stab you gave me in my past life, I will watch you pay it back a thousandfold in this life."

To drag my past mortal enemy into hell without even dirtying my own hands—this was the perfect start.

I crouched down and picked up the obsidian that had been kicked aside like trash.

If the heated red stone was a poison that plundered its host's life, then what was the black stone that accompanied it, ignored by everyone?

Without hesitation, I drew my tactical dagger from my waistband and decisively slashed my left palm.

Crimson blood gushed out, instantly dripping and staining the rough obsidian.

Suddenly, an indescribable stream of dark light burst forth from within the stone! The obsidian seemed to come alive, transforming into a pool of black liquid metal, which burrowed directly into my veins through my wound!

Boom!

A deafening roar echoed deep within my mind, and my vision was momentarily ripped apart.

Then, a vast, indescribable space unfolded within my consciousness. It was a boundless, absolutely still, timeless void, its temperature locked at a perfect 20 degrees Celsius.

[Ding—]

[Host vital signs detected. Dimensional Fortress, binding successful.]

[Attributes: Absolute Constant Temperature/Infinite Access/Physical Preservation]

I clenched my bloodied fist tightly, my knuckles cracking with extreme excitement.

Success! The hardcore-effect cheat code was officially loaded! Compared to this thing, the heating stone that Luke, that idiot, painstakingly stole and risked his life for, was nothing but nuclear waste! The villain's smug arrogance, his self-inflicted trap, only served to highlight the supreme dominance of this ultimate artifact.

I glanced down at my tactical wristwatch.

[Two hours until the temperature drops below -70 degrees Celsius.]

A blizzard was brewing outside; fist-sized snowflakes pounded against the glass, and widespread power outages were occurring throughout Chicago.

The landscape had completely shifted. The true king of the apocalypse isn't someone who miraculously glows and heats up like a furnace, but rather someone who devours everything in their path, achieving absolute, overwhelming dominance!

Without hesitation, I kicked aside the obstructing debris, pulled out my tactical-grade winter coat from under the bed, fastened the holster on my long legs, and finally, grabbed a Remington shotgun loaded with slugs, striding into the raging snowstorm outside.

Tonight, I had only one goal—eight kilometers from the slums, Chicago's largest and the third-largest National Guard supply depot in the nation.

The tyrant's free shopping spree had begun.