Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

April walked into the echoing, cavernous warehouse. Rows upon rows of thousands of industrial units filled the space. April didn’t hesitate. With a single thought—Intake—a silent, sweeping ripple of invisible force enveloped the warehouse shelves around her. And the more she walked, the more the warehouse was stripped bare.

Every single cylinder and barrel vanished in a fraction of a second. As soon as the last was gone, a sharp chime echoed inside her mind, accompanied by a blue notification window that forced its way to the center of her vision.

​[System Notice! Spatial Capacity has reached the maximum threshold of 100,000 cubic meters.]

​Current Capacity: 102,450 / 100,000 (Overcapacity Detected)

​Upgrade Available: Would you like to initiate the Level 3 Spatial Expansion?

Perks: Host can bring in another person and you can remain here for thirty months.

​[WARNING / COMPENSATORY METRICS:]

In response to the permanent deletion of the Revitalization Spring from the spatial dimension upon upgrade, a hidden structural boundary will be permanently unlocked.

​April’s eyes widened slightly, a wave of genuine shock breaking across her calm face. A hidden boundary? A door?

​She rapidly scrolled down the glowing text, her heart rate accelerating as she read the hidden sub-clauses of the Level 3 upgrade. Back when she had first gotten the spatial dimension and glanced at the upgrade perks in the system, it had informed her about allowing her to bring a person inside.

But she hadn’t understood the mechanics since she hadn’t gotten into the spatial dimension physically herself. Now, the system was spelling it out flawlessly.

​This upgrade would allow her—and anyone she invited—to physically enter the spatial dimension.

It would no longer be just her mind or her astral projection walking through that space but her real, physical flesh-and-blood body could step right through a materialized threshold.

​”A physical door...” April whispered, staring blankly at the empty warehouse wall.

​It sounded amazing, but a sudden problem arose in her mind. Where was she supposed to place a permanent door to her private dimension?

If she did it in Xavier’s villa, she wouldn’t be able to access it once she moved to her own fortress. And if she said she wanted to wait until the fortress is ready and fix it to her room, then it was another problem.

Wasn’t this space built for convenience of the user? She is supposed to be able to access the space and walk in and out of it at anywhere, anytime.

​She quickly scanned the system interface, mentally projecting a query: Can the physical location of the threshold be altered after the initiation?

​[System Response:]

​Yes. The physical anchor point is entirely mobile.

​To materialize the door, the Host must establish a specific, unique Passcode. Upon thinking of the intent to open the dimension and speaking the passcode aloud, a physical doorway will immediately manifest before you anywhere in the world.

​April let out a slow, relieved breath. That made things significantly easier. But the system added one final, critical reminder:

​[Operational Guardrail:] The door will only manifest if the Host possesses the explicit, conscious intent and active thought process to open the spatial dimension while speaking the word. Saying the passcode completely in passing or by pure accident without the accompanying mental command will NOT activate the portal.

​April stood in the center of the dark, empty warehouse, her thumb brushing against Lily’s soft fur as the kitten purred quietly.

​A passcode. It needed to be a word or a short phrase. Even with the safety guardrail, it had to be something distinct—something she wouldn’t accidentally throw into a standard conversation or use while discussing with Samuel and Xavier, yet something she could easily remember when the chaos finally broke out.

​She closed her eyes, her mind completely focused as she began to formulate the perfect activation key for her ultimate sanctuary.

”Scapegoat.” April said, her expression calm and confident. ”That will be the passcode.”

[Are you sure of the passcode ’Scapegoat’? Once initiated, it cannot be changed.]

”Yes, I’m sure.” She said,

April had no distinct reason behind the passcode being scapegoat, but it subtly reminded her of her own tragic end, and well, it was easy to remember. Plus, it was comical.

​[System Notice: Passcode confirmed. Level 3 Spatial Expansion Complete.]

​Spatial Capacity: 102,450/1,000,000 Cubic meters.

​Active Anchor: Passcode [Scapegoat] successfully registered to your soul matrix.

​Current Constraints: Host may physically transport herself and up to one invited guest into the storage parameters. Maximum continuous physical residency limit: 30 months.

​April stared at the final glowing text before the screen shattered into thousands of tiny blue particles and dissolved into the dark warehouse air.

​Thirty months, she thought, her fingers tracing Lily’s soft leather collar. Two and a half years of absolute isolation, complete safety, and frozen time, entirely detached from the biological horrors, and the collapsing societal structures outside.

So if her hillside bunker was ever compromised, she could hide inside her spatial dimension until the danger wore out. It was amazing. And just look at that space... A million cubic meters.

Gosh, she could try to drain all the markets and she just might never be able to fill it in the next few weeks. Maybe it was time to admit defeat. But it didn’t mean her hoarding spirit would die down.

She would still keep filling it until the last minute.

​”Let’s go, Rufus,” April said softly, turning toward the high warehouse exit.

​Rufus let out a short, affirmative bark, his new bold-serif collar catching the dim overhead lighting as he trotted proudly at her side.

Lily didn’t even bother to open her eyes; the white kitten simply adjusted her pink italic collar, tucked her tiny chin under her new bowtie, and snuggled deeper into the crook of April’s elbow, completely fast asleep.

​When April stepped out of the warehouse, the cool evening air rushed to meet her.

Samuel was standing by the rear door of the car, his eyes scanning the perimeter until they locked onto her form. He quickly opened the door, bowing with his customary, flawless professional precision.

​”Is everything finished inside, Miss April?” Samuel inquired smoothly, his eyes briefly flicking past her shoulder toward the pitch-black, entirely empty interior of the warehouse behind her.

He didn’t say a word about the thousands of missing industrial cylinders, his discretion remaining completely absolute.

​”Yes. I’m done,” April replied, sliding into the plush leather seat and settling Lily onto her lap.

Rufus hopped in right after her, laying his heavy head across her feet like a warm, protective weight. ”Take me back to the villa, Samuel. I want to have dinner.”

​”Right away, Ma’am,” Samuel said, closing the door softly before walking around to the driver’s seat.

​As the car smoothly purred to life and rolled out of the commercial sector, April leaned back against the headrest.

She pulled out her phone, but the moment her thumb tapped on the Winecraft application, a call came in, overtaking the entire screen.

She frowned slightly, seeing the contact ID. The psycho was calling. Should she answer or should she not? She wondered and with a heavy, tired sigh, she slid it to answer,

”Sweetheart,” his deep voice boomed off the speakers. ”Did you miss me?”