Doomsday Elevator

"Die! Die! Just die!!"

The woman's whispers accompanied eight brutal stabs. The young man lay motionless long before she ceased.

Victory painted her face—this honey trap never failed. Three elevator upgrades already, fourth within reach.

Ethan followed the screams, finding the blood-drenched scene. The woman hoarded supplies, unaware of his approach.

"Hands up!"

She turned, trembling lips morphing into a coy smile. "H-he tried to...to force himself..." Her coat slipped deliberately, revealing milky shoulders. "Protect me, strong brother?"

Her gaze lingered on his pistol. Obtain that firearm, and seduction tactics could retire.

Ethan remained silent. She advanced, mistaking his stillness for captivation. Handsome prey—almost a shame to kill.

BANG!

Her skull split before completing the third step.

"Seduce me? Child's play." Ethan eyed the castrated corpse, shuddering. This femme fatale meant business.

Scavenging both elevators yielded 10 gold coins—surprise windfall. Upgrade requirements now: 20kg timber, 80kg iron, 3 coins.

The scrapyard surrendered 400kg scrap iron and 200kg copper. Though uncertain about copper's use, Ethan filled his Bovine Hide Satchel. Other metals would wait.

Loot inventory disgusted him: rock-hard bread, crude bow, three ration bars. "Pathetic." He tossed the bread to his velociraptor, watching it crunch through frozen dough.

Today's infinite water pool spawned a meter-long black watersnake. Non-venomous, but unappetizing—another raptor treat. The creature devoured it headfirst with crackling relish.

[Ding!] Toilet breakthrough achieved. Post-defecation relief interrupted by An Lan's message.

An Lan: "Brother, fresh water? Salt processing consumes my drinking supply."

Ethan dispatched water reserves without question.

Ethan Quinn: "Sent. ETA?"

An Lan: "Normally solar evaporation, but without sun... My clay-reinforced chimney accelerates boiling. Tomorrow."

Ethan Quinn: "Fire in elevator?!"

An Lan: "Mud-sealed wooden支架 structure. Need flexible metal to optimize."

An Lan: "Handcrafting's my specialty."

Ethan marveled at the artisan's ingenuity while maintaining aloofness. This partnership required careful power balance.

Meanwhile, An Lan monitored Ethan's progress—fourth-level elevator when most struggled at two. His frail body trembled as he counted remaining blue pills: 29 tablets. One-month ration if halved.

This lethal world paradoxically offered hope. Ancient remedies might lurk in uncharted floors. He wouldn't surrender to illness—not with Ethan's alliance shimmering on the horizon.