Apocalypse Survival: Starting with a Shelter

Just after Su Wu placed his latest order in the official warehouse, a short, sharp alarm sounded from the control console.

The AI issued a warning: radiation levels on the surface had spiked abnormally, surging hundreds of times within a short period.

Su Wu quickly switched to the surface monitoring feed, noticing visible interference in the video—flickers and occasional distortions.

"Radiation disaster," Su Wu muttered to himself, frowning. "No, not that severe yet. It's likely just random radiation fluctuations."

He hastily checked the data and let out a sigh of relief.

He input a command to temporarily seal off the external passage to the fifth underground level, then turned his attention to the communications system. As expected, the official satellite network had nearly collapsed, leaving Su Wu's shelter in an isolated state.

Surprisingly, the communication signal tower, upgraded using survival points, remained robust. Even under the intense radiation, it transmitted signals steadily. Nearby shelter residents connected to the network hadn't noticed any disruptions.

"If it's outside the high-radiation zones, the monitoring network is still functioning relatively well," Su Wu observed.

The usual communication relay devices, responsible for data transmission, were cut off under the circumstances. However, because the high-radiation zone only spanned about 10 kilometers, Su Wu's signal tower took over the network connections. This allowed most of the monitoring network to come back online, continuously feeding real-time data except for areas directly affected by the intense radiation.

Satisfied that overall functionality was largely intact, Su Wu's demeanor relaxed. Using the reconnected monitoring network, he analyzed the high-radiation zone above his shelter.

It spanned a diameter of approximately 3.4 kilometers and wasn't static. Instead, it moved randomly at speeds ranging from one meter to half a kilometer per second.

"This intensity is close to a radiation disaster prototype," Su Wu noted. "Fortunately, it moves randomly; otherwise, this could be disastrous."

Studying the radiation zone, Su Wu considered the durability of his upgraded communication devices, particularly those installed in his large transport vehicles. Since these were also enhanced with survival points, he theorized they could perform similarly well under such conditions.

For caution's sake, Su Wu decided against opening the doors to test the vehicles outside. Instead, he used the drone platform to deploy a reconnaissance drone onto a small fortress rooftop.

Within half a minute, the drone powered up, established a connection, and ascended. A clear video feed streamed onto the control console screen, confirming that the inexpensive, single-survival-point drone was also unaffected by high radiation levels.

"It seems that items upgraded with survival points, no matter how ordinary, likely contain unknown technological advancements," Su Wu concluded.

This realization gave Su Wu a newfound appreciation for survival points. Despite industrial advancements and high-tech blueprints, survival-point-upgraded items clearly had unique, irreplaceable value.

Su Wu directed the drone to survey the 15-kilometer radius around the shelter. As it roamed, the map displayed on the console began returning to normal. The faint yellow glow covering certain areas faded, signaling that radiation levels in those regions had dropped back to the average post-storm surface levels.

While still lethal for unprotected humans after prolonged exposure, the radiation was now safe enough for Su Wu's engineering team to resume surface operations.

With the fifth underground level's vertical passage reopened, a miner-class transport vehicle carrying rubble was dispatched to the surface.

Once again, Su Wu's shelter returned to its routine construction work as the lethal radiation retreated as quickly as it had appeared.

At 11:30 a.m., the satellite network reconnected. Su Wu checked a private group chat frequented by wealthy shelter owners and noticed three major shelters had experienced sudden surges in contribution points.

This was not good news—not even for those shelters. It meant their monitoring zones had become sites of genuine radiation disasters.

"Three at once," Su Wu muttered, feeling a twinge of unease.

The official disaster protocol dictated that a city should be abandoned and its population relocated to safer areas if ten radiation disaster zones were confirmed. With three emerging simultaneously, it was clear the situation was escalating rapidly.

The group chat reflected widespread panic. Some members were already selling off their assets and contacting officials to secure their emergency relocation tickets.

Meanwhile, Su Wu continued examining publicly available data on the three disaster zones. At the same time, the official shelter network issued a yellow alert to its middle- and upper-tier personnel and initiated deep-shelter evacuation plans.

Without public announcements, these quiet but decisive actions sent shockwaves through those in the know. Valuable materials were swiftly transported to deep shelters, and elite personnel began receiving encrypted messages.

Following the instructions, they abandoned their current tasks and discreetly escorted their families to secret evacuation points, under the pretense of attending social gatherings.

Externally, the official shelters became noticeably less responsive. Many civilian shelter requests were delayed or ignored entirely, as if the personnel handling them had disappeared from their posts.

"Official shelters have begun their emergency evacuation," one large shelter owner sighed in the private group chat.

"Take care of yourselves. Make your preparations early."

The message wasn't a warning or advice—it was an expression of shared concern. Everyone in the group understood the official shelter

s' priorities and tendencies. Their silent actions spoke volumes.