Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

April’s eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. Before she could even ask about the surplus, Nat tilted his chin up, a smug, fiercely proud glint in his dark eyes.

​”Don’t look down on me just because I like money, little seer,” he murmured, his voice laced with a strange, possessive respect. ”I know the exact worth of that prediction, and I know this amount is mere pocket change compared to what I just saved. So don’t even think about giving me a discount.”

​April was beyond delighted. For the first time since she had been violently thrown into the back of the unmarked van, her lips slowly curled into a genuine smile.

But it wasn’t a simple, comforting smile. It was a sharp, calculating expression that looked just as maniacal and ambitious as his.

​”Ah. Thank you for being so generous, Mr. Collins,” she said, her eyes flashing with a cold, financial hunger.

​The fanatical intensity in her gaze actually made Nat shudder for a fraction of a second—not a shudder of fear, but a sudden, electricity-like jolt of pure excitement. She really was his perfect mirror.

​Cash cow number three, April thought to herself, her smile widening as she watched him pocket his phone. I am going to have so much fun dipping into your pockets before the world ends.

”Now,” April said, her voice instantly dropping the lingering amusement from the transaction. ”Since you paid a premium, let us look into that little inconvenience I mentioned.”

​Without warning, she flipped her hand. In a seamless flash of supernatural light, the Crystalline Seer Orb materialized right back into her palm out of thin air.

The faint, ethereal blue glow once again flooded the dim warehouse, washing over Nat’s face and causing the subordinates standing in the dark corners to take a sharp, collective breath of disbelief.

​As her fingers cradled the cool, glowing crystal, the blue neon system interface flashed directly above it, ready for her command.

​[System Notice: Eye of Destiny (Rank 2) Activated.]

[Would you like to read the fortune of Nat Collins regarding his internal syndicate operations?]

[Number of insights left today: 2/5]

​Yes.

​The neon text began to display a series of data that only April could see.

​[Target Fortune: Internal Operational Threat]

​The Catalyst: A member of the target’s subordinates in the immediate warehouse is currently operating under extreme psychological stress. He harbors a deep, paralyzing fear of the Golden Dragon syndicate and has determined that staying will inevitably result in his death.

The Action: Within forty-eight hours, this individual plans to fake his own death during a routine smuggling run to permanently escape the underground world.

The Complication: The escape will fail. The individual will be intercepted and captured by a rival syndicate—The Scorpion Gang.

​The Fallout: In a desperate bid to save his own skin from torture, the terrified grunt will rat out every operational detail, hidden black-market route, and shadow corporation owned by Nat Collins, completely compromising the Golden Dragon’s major operations and costing billions in damages.

​April looked down toward the bottom of the glowing tab, where a flashing sub-marker appeared.

​[Identity Protocol: Target is standing exactly fifteen paces to the host’s left, hiding behind the rusted iron support beam.]

​April closed the neon screen, her mind instantly piecing together the timeline.

Unfortunately, it seems I will have to watch Nat stain his hands. She thought. And if this grunt fakes his death and gets caught by the Scorpions, Nat’s entire shadow network takes a hit right before the apocalypse. I can’t let his resources get compromised; I need them intact for the hoarding phase.

This betrayal might’ve happened in the past as well, but Nat still stood his ground in the apocalypse. Still, she needs to dip into his pockets so she can’t afford to let him get distracted by things like this.

​”Well?” Nat mused, leaning his hip against the edge of his desk. He watched her stare into the glowing blue sphere, his eyes brimming with that wild, manic anticipation. ”What does the magic glass say, little seer? Who’s the brave soul trying to sell me out?”

​April lifted her head from the orb, her eyes completely devoid of warmth. She didn’t look at Nat. Instead, she slowly turned her head, her sharp, calculating gaze piercing straight through the dim lighting toward the dark left corner of the warehouse.

​”The person you are looking for isn’t a deep-cover corporate spy, Mr. Collins,” April said smoothly, her voice echoing clearly off the high steel beams. ”He’s just a man who is utterly terrified of you.”

​The warehouse went entirely dead silent. The subordinates in the shadows seemed to stop breathing.

”Is there anyone who isn’t scared of me?” Nat asked, his grin spreading across his face but she didn’t answer.

Sure, everyone was scared of him, but this was one brave soul who wanted to run due to this fear.

”So, do they want to destroy me because they are scared of me? Huh?” He asked but she shook her head.

​”He doesn’t want to destroy you. He just wants out,” April continued, her gaze locking onto a specific silhouette standing behind a heavily rusted iron pillar. ”Within two days, he plans to fake his own death during one of your routine smuggling runs to disappear from the underground entirely. But if he were simply going to leave and vanish into the world, your empire wouldn’t be affected.”

​Nat’s eyes narrowed into razor-sharp, lethal slits. He didn’t say a word, but the sudden, violent drop in the room’s temperature proved he was listening to every single syllable.

​”But his plan is flawed,” April purred, her eyes flashing beneath the harsh overhead bulb. ”When he fakes his death, your rival gang—the Scorpions—will see right through it. They will catch him. And in a desperate bid to save his own skin from their blades, he will rat out all of your hidden routes, your shadow operations, and your upcoming moves. He will compromise the Golden Dragon entirely just to buy himself another day of breath.”

​Nat slowly stood up to his full, towering height. The easygoing, amused client from a few minutes ago vanished, replaced by the blood-soaked warlord from the apocalyptic legends.

A heavy, suffocating malice rolled off him in waves.

​”Is that so?” Nat whispered, his voice turning incredibly gruff, vibrating with a terrifying edge. ”And who is this brave soul?”

”Fifteen paces.” April simply said and he slowly turned his head to follow April’s line of sight, his crimson hair catching the dim light like fresh blood.

”Fifteen paces to the left...” he muttered. ”...behind the rusted beam, huh? Isn’t that your station... Leo?”

​From the darkness behind the iron pillar, a sudden, sharp gasp cut through the silence, followed by the unmistakable clatter of a rifle slipping from trembling, clammy hands and slamming loudly against the concrete floor.