CHAPTER 294: APOCALYPSE ROMANCE 4

The Dimensional Ring wasn’t just a storage space—it was a pocket dimension, accessible only by Sasha.

She went inside it, and was greeted by rows upon rows of pristine cabinets stretching into infinity, like she’d just stepped inside a cosmic warehouse run by IKEA.

Except, unlike IKEA, nothing here broke after two uses.

There was even a refrigeration section: neat glass doors filled with perfectly chilled air, ready to store food, drinks, and maybe a suspicious stash of ice cream tubs if she felt like indulging during the apocalypse.

The best part? Items inside were frozen in time. Food wouldn’t rot. Batteries wouldn’t lose charge. Clothes wouldn’t wrinkle. She could throw in a steak and ten years later, it would still sizzle fresh off the grill.

Sasha imagined shoving entire grocery stores into her ring and laughed. "I’m basically the apocalypse version of Amazon Prime. Free two-second delivery. No expiration dates."

Of course, she couldn’t store anything alive in it—not animals, not people, not even plants.

That was the ring’s one limitation.

But Sasha wasn’t planning to collect strays anyway. She was building an arsenal and pantry, not a zoo.

Marching into a supermarket, she loaded carts like a woman possessed—canned goods, bags of rice, bottled water, energy drinks, coffee, instant noodles, vitamins, chocolate.

She wasn’t shy about it either. To onlookers, she probably looked like a paranoid prepper on steroids.

One woman eyed Sasha’s tenth cart of bottled water. "Um . . . miss? Don’t you think you’re hoarding a little too much?"

Sasha gave her a deadpan stare while casually vanishing a cart into thin air with a flick of her ring. The woman shrieked and bolted for the other aisle.

Sasha smirked. "Thought so."

The Apocalypse was only days away, so she was feeling a little playful.

By the time she was done, entire shelves were bare. It was beautiful. She checked inside her Dimensional Ring and admired the perfect organization: cabinets full of food, a special section for hygiene products, another for medical supplies, and even a corner she labeled Weapons & Fun—where she stored firearms, knives, baseball bats, and a suspiciously large collection of fireworks.

"Dimensional hoarding, complete," she muttered proudly.

But she wasn’t finished. If her apocalypse fortress was going to roll, she needed fuel. Gallons upon gallons of it.

So she strolled into a gas station, rented the biggest tanker she could find, and discreetly siphoned fuel into drums—every last drop tucked safely into her ring. The attendants stared in confusion when a full barrel disappeared mid-roll.

Sasha just gave them a wink. "Magic trick. Don’t worry about it."

By the end of the day, she had everything: food, water, medicine, weapons, clothes, batteries, fuel—even stacks of manga and video games because, hey, just because the world was ending didn’t mean she’d live without entertainment.

Looking into her Dimensional Ring, now glittering with neatly packed supplies like a survivalist’s dream museum, Sasha grinned. "Who needs a bunker when you can carry one on your finger?"

The soul inside Sasha wasn’t just some ordinary shut in NEET. She had skills—unpolished, maybe, but skills nonetheless.

She knew how to handle guns, for one. Not military-level expertise, but she could tell the difference between a safety and a magazine release, and more importantly, she didn’t flinch at the weight of cold steel in her hand. She knew enough to aim straight, conserve ammo, and never let her guard down.

Why?

Because once upon a time, she had joined a combat training camp. Not out of patriotism, or survival paranoia, or even self-defense.

No—her reason was far more noble.

Her favorite voice actors and actresses, the ones who breathed life into her beloved characters from her favorite combat game franchise, were special guests at the camp.

Not only that, but there was a final competition at the end of training—with a grand prize: a limited-edition figurine signed by all of them.

To her, this wasn’t just a plastic figure. This was destiny. A holy relic. A proof of devotion.

And so, she trained like a woman possessed.

While others casually joined the camp for fun, she treated every drill as though she were preparing to storm the gates of hell.

Push-ups? She went until her arms trembled like jelly.

Target practice? She memorized breathing techniques until the paper dummies looked like Swiss cheese.

Close-quarters combat? She let herself get slammed, flipped, and bruised a dozen times just to figure out the rhythm—and then she slammed them back twice as hard.

Her fellow trainees thought she was insane.

"Uh, miss, this is supposed to be a fan event, not boot camp," one guy whispered after she executed a textbook roll, ducked behind cover, and shouted, "Suppressing fire!" with way too much conviction.

She just gave him a wild grin, sweat dripping from her chin. "You don’t understand. That figurine . . . is mine."

She learned every trick she could: how to reload under pressure, how to conserve stamina in long fights, even how to use her surroundings to her advantage.

When the final competition came, she charged in like a soldier on the battlefield. She ducked, rolled, screamed battle cries, and fought with the desperation of someone who knew only one truth: Victory or nothing.

The crowd laughed, the staff blinked in disbelief, and the voice actresses themselves looked half-concerned and half-impressed.

But in the end, she didn’t win the figurine. She came in second place.

That figurine still haunted her.

It was, in her eyes, the greatest loss of her life.

But ironically, the skills she picked up—basic marksmanship, tactical awareness, hand-to-hand techniques—were now priceless in this new life.

Sasha sighed at the memory. "So . . . I basically trained like a lunatic for anime merch . . . and accidentally prepared myself for the apocalypse. Well, jokes on everyone else."

Her lips curled into a grin. "That figurine may have slipped away, but survival? Survival’s the real prize this time."

Now bring in the Apocalypse!

I was ready!

BAaAmM!

The door to Sasha’s apartment suddenly exploded open with a deafening BANG, the hinges rattling as if they were about to come off.

She froze from shoving her things into the Dimensional Ring, heart hammering in her chest.

Loan sharks.

Oh, shit.