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What? My "Information Club" is Actually an All-Knowing Secret Society?
Genre : Apocalypse, Fantasy, Superpower, Action
Tag : Misunderstanding, Secret Organization, Wolrd-Freezing, Super power
Chapter 2 : Preparation
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[Location: A Reinforced Basement, Suburban District]
The silence in the basement was heavy, smelling faintly of gun oil and stale recycled air.
Viper sat in his tactical chair, the glow of six surveillance monitors reflecting in his cold, calculating eyes. To the outside world, this was just a quiet suburban home at the end of a cul-de-sac.
In reality, it was a kill box.
He glanced at the monitors.
Camera 1: Front lawn. Motion sensors active. Hidden pressure plates armed under the welcome mat.
Camera 2: Backyard. Tripwires strung between the oak trees at ankle height.
Camera 3: The garage. Filled floor-to-ceiling with crates of MREs, water filtration units, and enough ammunition to hold a siege for six months.
"Perimeter secure," Viper muttered, his voice raspy from disuse.
He turned his attention to the workbench in front of him. It was organized. A disassembled AR-15, a combat knife sharpened to a mirror finish, and right in the center, pinned under a bullet casing: Page 1: The Evolution Catalyst.
Viper picked up the paper. He studied it like a scientist studying a genome map.
"'Induce cellular hypoxia to trigger dormant mitochondria survival response...'" Viper read the technical jargon softly. "'Step 1: Rhythmic oxygen deprivation to spike core temperature.'"
He nodded slowly. Civilians would look at this and see nonsense. But Viper had seen classified documents before. This was bio-hacking, a method to force the human body to evolve rapidly under extreme stress.
"The Architect isn't just predicting about the Freezing world," Viper whispered. "He's also giving us the schematics to upgrade our body."
He closed his eyes, shifting his posture. He began the breathing exercise described on the paper. Inhale sharp. Compress the diaphragm. Hold until the lungs burn. Force the heart to pump harder.
Minutes passed.
Veins bulged on Viper's neck. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple, despite the cool air of the basement.
He opened his eyes, snapping them open with terrifying intensity. He felt it. A subtle buzz in his nervous system. His vision seemed sharper, the edges of the room more defined.
"It works," Viper grinned, his hand gripping the edge of the table until the metal groaned. "My body... it's generating heat from the inside."
He reached out and grabbed his combat knife, spinning it effortlessly in his hand.
"Let the freeze come."
He looked at the paper again, treating the printed words of a starving man as if they were top-secret super-soldier serum.
"I am the weapon. And I am ready for war."
***
[Location: Madeia Tower, Penthouse Suite - 80th Floor]
The air in the penthouse smelled of expensive lilies and vintage Pinot Noir.
Ravena Madeia stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, wrapped in a silk robe that cost more than most people's cars. Below her, the city was a sprawling grid of traffic lights. Unaware, loud, and pathetic.
She swirled the wine in her glass, her eyes reflecting the city lights like a predator watching a dying herd.
Behind her, the living room had been transformed. The designer furniture was pushed to the walls. In the center, on a pedestal usually reserved for rare sculptures, sat a simple piece of paper encased in bulletproof glass.
Page 5: The Chronos Log.
A young maid entered the room, carrying a silver tray. Her hands were trembling slightly, not out of fear of abuse, but out of sheer reverence.
"Ms. Madeia," the maid whispered, keeping her head low. "The delivery from the pharmaceutical company has arrived. The antibiotics, the insulin, and the... supplements required by the Architect's list."
Ravena didn't turn around. She kept watching the city.
"Good work, Clara. And the tenants on the 58th and 59th floors?"
"They have been... relocated, Madam. Their leases were terminated, and the security team has escorted them out. The floors are now empty. Ready for storage."
"Excellent."
Ravena finally turned. Her smile was warm, motherly, yet overwhelming behind the eyes. She walked over to the glass case and placed her hand gently on the surface.
"Clara, look at this timeline. Look at Day 0."
The maid stepped forward, her eyes wide. "The... The Great Freeze, Madam?"
"Yes. The end of their world. And the beginning of ours." Ravena's voice dropped to a whisper, seductive and convincing.
"Out there, they will freeze. They will scream. They will die in the filth of their own ignorance. But here? In his defence? We will be warm. We will be safe. Because He chose us."
The maid fell to her knees, overcome with emotion. The brainwashing had been subtle over the last few days, a mix of fear-mongering about the news and presenting Ravena as the only savior.
"Thank you..." Clara sobbed. "Thank you for saving us."
Ravena reached down and gently lifted the maid's chin.
"You don't call me that anymore, Clara. Not in this room. Not in front of His words."
The maid gulped, tears streaming down her face. She looked up at Ravena not as her boss anymore, but as her priestess.
"Thank you... Lady Seraph."
Ravena smiled, satisfied.
"Go. Help Sebastian reinforce the thermal seals on the windows. The Architect says the wind will howl tonight."
As the maid hurried away, Ravena looked back at the Chronos Log. For Arlen, it's was just a plot outline. But To her, it was a divine script.
"Five Pillars," she mused, sipping her wine. "And I shall be the most beautiful one. That way, the architect would acknowledge me"
***
[Location: Underground Server Farm, hidden beneath a seemingly abandoned warehouse]
The room was colder than a freezer, kept at a constant 16°C to prevent the massive banks of servers from overheating. The sound was the first thing that hit you when In this room. It was a low, rhythmic thrumming, like the heartbeat of a mechanical beast. It was the sound of three hundred server blades cooling simultaneously.
Rows of black server racks stretched into the darkness, their blue and green status lights blinking in hypnotic unison. Thick, industrial-grade power cables snaked along the floor like pythons, feeding into a massive wall of Tesla Powerpacks and a backup diesel generator big enough to power a hospital.
In the center of this digital fortress, FrostBite sat cross-legged on his ergonomic throne, surrounded by a shrine of six curved monitors and pyramids of empty energy drink cans.
He was bouncing his leg, staring at a financial graph on the left screen. It was a chaotic mess of red and green lines, fluctuating wildly.
"Come on... come on, you volatility beast..." he whispered, biting his thumbnail.
He was shorting a massive energy conglomerate while simultaneously leveraging 100x on a volatile crypto coin. To a normal broker, this was a literal financial suicide, a dumb way to end your life. But, to FrostBite, its just like another Tuesday.
Why? Because He loved the rush. The "High Risk, High Reward" meta.
*Ping.*
The graph spiked green. Massive profit.
"BOOM! Headshot!" FrostBite threw his hands up, nearly knocking over an anime figurine. "ROI(return of Investment) is through the roof! Easiest grind of my life!"
Actually, He didn't care about the money. He cared about the resources the money could unlock. He immediately dragged the entire profit sum, about millions of dollars. Into a new window.
"GG, EZ."
He spun his chair to face the main server racks and then back again at the screen. He adjusted his yellow-tinted glasses, his expression shifting from 'manic gamer' to 'obsessed engineer'.
He grabbing an action figure from his desk, it was a character from a sci-fi game he likes. This was his tic.
"Viper has his guns. Seraph has her cult. But me?"
He gestured to the humming machines around him.
"I have the Archive. When the world goes dark, when the internet dies... this room will be the only light left."
He had already set up a script to scrape the entire internet. Wikipedia, medical journals, engineering blueprints, and every single word Arlen had ever typed. He was downloading human history onto his private hard drives.
"Don't worry, Dev," FrostBite grinned at Arlen's profile picture, And then smiling at his action figure again.
"You focus on the main quest. I'll make sure the save files are corrupt-free. I'm the best Support Class you'll ever have."
He grabbed another energy drink, cracked it open, and minimized the Archive window and brought up a custom dashboard he had built, titled
[GUILD TREASURY: OPERATION ZERO].
It looked like a video game inventory screen, but the numbers were terrifyingly real.
*Ping.* *Ping.* *Ping.*
Notifications flooded the center screen. The Pillars and the Elite Members were waking up, and they were requesting for resources.
The first notification popped up in a sharp red window.
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[REQUEST ID: 001]
USER: VIPER [PILLAR]
• ITEM : Military-Grade Thermal Optics (x50)
• ITEM : Auto-Sentry Turrets (x12)
• COST : $4,500,000
• NOTE : "Perimeter defense. Need it by tomorrow night."
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FrostBite grinned, spinning his action figure.
"Classic Viper. Always maxing out the DPS stats first. Automated turrets are basically a cheat code against early-game mobs."
He tapped the enter key hard.
[AUTHORIZED].
A second window appeared, this one elegant and expensive.
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[REQUEST ID: 002]
USER: SERAPH [PILLAR]
• ITEM : 'Medi-Corp' Warehouse Buyout
• STOCK : Insulin, Antibiotics, Painkillers
• COST : $12,200,000
• NOTE : "To heal the lambs. Purity required. And as always, I don't need your money, I just report it to make a log."
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"Twelve million?" FrostBite whistled.
"She's literally buying the whole shops now. And at this point, I think her wealth is more than mine LMAO."
"But hey, a Raid party is useless without a Healer class carrying infinite supplies."
He shrugged and authorized.
[AUTHORIZED].
*Ping*
Now the Elites were waking up. The requests were smaller, but tactical.
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[REQUEST ID: 003]
USER: IRONCLAD [ELITE]
• ITEM : 500 Tons Quick-Dry Cement & Steel
• LOC : Sector 3 (Sanctuary Wall)
• COST : $2,100,000
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"Base building," FrostBite muttered, nodding approvingly. "Good call, IronClad. If the zombie pathing gets overwhelmed, we need physical blockers. High defense stats are a must."
[AUTHORIZED].
Ping.
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[REQUEST ID: 004]
USER: VECTOR [ELITE]
• ITEM : Armored Rover Fleet (x10) + Diesel
• COST : $850,000
• NOTE : "Fast Travel unlocked."
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"Mobility is king. Can't get caught in the storm without a mount. Good catch, I'm gonna round it into 1.000.000."
[AUTHORIZED].
*Ping.*
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[REQUEST ID: 005]
USER: NIGHTOWL [ELITE]
• ITEM : Long-Range Radio Repeaters + Solar
• COST : $420,000
• NOTE : "Anti-Lag System."
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"And finally, the server stability," FrostBite smiled. "We always need a sub network isn't it? Good work, NightOwl."
[AUTHORIZED].
On the secondary screen, the numbers were plummeting. FrostBite was doing the unthinkable. He was liquidating everything. He was selling his stocks, his patents, his entire crypto portfolio, and his real estate assets. He was burning through a fortune that would make a Wall Street banker weep, funneling every cent into these requests.
"Money is just a useless pixels," he scoffed, watching his personal bank balance drop to zero while the 'Guild Assets' counter skyrocketed.
"In the New World, cash is trash. The meta is shifting to tangible assets. I'm dumping all our liquidity into loot before the market crashes."
"Spend it all," he whispered to the screen, watching the millions drain away in seconds. "We will have the best starting gear in the server. Let the normies keep their paper money."
He cracked his knuckles, satisfied.
***
On the morning~
[Location: Arlen's Apartment]
Arlen woke up, scratching his messy hair. He yawned and opened the fridge, grabbing a carton of milk that was dangerously close to its expiration date.
He glanced at his phone. 500+ unread messages in the group chat.
"Wow," Arlen mumbled, taking a sip of milk. "They really are into this roleplay. That's some serious dedication to the character lore."
He chuckled, imagining a bunch of bored office workers typing furiously in their basements, pretending to be soldiers and scientists. It was cute, really. It made him feel like a successful dungeon master in a D&D game.
"Well, as long as they're having fun," Arlen shrugged. He sat down at his computer to write the next chapter of his novel, completely oblivious to the fact that half a continent away, something big is going on.
›› To Be Continue ‹‹
—KS