World Apocalypse: Apocalust

Chapter 57: Chapter LVII - Fifty AP

Down the stairs again, to the second floor, his room, then the adjoining bathroom. Clothes discarded in a heap on the floor. The shower door slid open with a familiar rattle, and then hot water cascaded over tired muscles. A groan escaped as tension began to unknot, the heat seeping into skin still humming.

Steam filled the space, fogging the glass door and mirror in equal measure.

As the water ran down his back, a sharp sting flared across his shoulder blades. The scratches made themselves known in the heat, thin lines of fire that he hadn’t felt in the moment but now announced themselves with vivid clarity. He reached back, fingers tracing the raised ridges of skin. There were more than he’d realized.

Still, he dismissed the injuries almost as quickly as he’d noticed them. With a Mythic Ability enhancing his recovery, they were hardly something worth worrying about.

Soap came next. The bar slid across his shoulders, chest, and stomach, careful around the marks on his back. Noah reached for the handle and turned the water down to a cooler temperature, letting the sudden chill sweep over his skin.

The suds soon ran in diluted rivers toward the drain, carrying sweat and everything else with them. He closed his eyes, tilting his face up into the stream and letting the cooler water wash over him. The energy was still there, pulsing beneath the surface, but the cold helped. Made it feel manageable.

Until the water cut off.

Not slowed to a trickle. Not sputtered. Just—stopped. Complete silence except for the drip of water from his hair and the distant sound of maybe groans outside.

Noah stood there, soap still slick across his torso, staring at the showerhead as if he could will the water back through sheer force of anger.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Of course. Of course this would happen now. Right at the finish line. The universe apparently had a sense of humor about men covered in soap with nowhere to rinse.

Fine. Fine.

The shower door slid open, releasing some of the remaining steam into the cooler bathroom air. Soap still clung to his legs. Two steps to the towel closet—thank God for small mercies—and a fresh towel pulled from the shelf. Face and hair first, then doing what he could with the suds, smearing them more than removing them, leaving a faint white residue across his skin.

"This is fine," he muttered to the empty bathroom. "Everything is fine."

He wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped onto the bathmat, leaving wet footprints on the tile. Water droplets still clung to his shoulders. His back stung faintly where the scratches crossed, mixing with the soap that refused to disappear without a proper rinse.

Suddenly a thought came to him.

A word formed in his mind, and the world shifted. That familiar sensation of extending his awareness outward, of reaching for something beyond normal perception. The bathroom seemed to flatten, colors muting as his focus narrowed to a single point. The showerhead now rendered in crystalline detail.

The interface materialized immediately, violet and ethereal, hovering in the air before him.

〔Shower Head〕

〔Total Cost: 50 AP〕

〔Would you like to commence the upgrade?〕

〔Yes〕〔No〕

Fifty AP. For a showerhead.

Noah stared at the floating text, his mind racing. The water hadn’t stopped because of some temporary issue. The systems themselves had stopped. And now, after almost making it through two full days, it had finally happened. Everything that relied on infrastructure, municipal power grids, and functioning civilization had finally ground to a halt.

But his System came with a workaround. Ten points had reinforced the back door, bumping its durability from eighty to one hundred fifty. So what would fifty points do to a showerhead?

More importantly—would it actually get the water running again?

The thought gave him pause. He’d already upgraded the doors and windows once. That was defense, survival, necessity. This was... comfort. But comfort mattered too. And hygiene. And not walking around covered in soap like an idiot.

If the water wasn’t coming back on its own, this wasn’t just about being comfortable; it was about not smelling like a swamp and getting infections from scratches that should’ve been rinsed hours ago.

His back stung faintly, a reminder of Sage’s enthusiasm.

The towel felt rough against his palm as he held it against his waist, water dripping from his hair onto the tile. Soap still itched on his skin, a persistent reminder of his current predicament.

Fifty AP to rinse off. Half his points. That was the choice in front of him.

Noah exhaled slowly, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

"If I’m spending half my points on a shower," he muttered to the empty bathroom, "this better work."

He chose Yes, and the confirmation came immediately.

〔AP: 50〕

Half his points, gone just like that. Noah watched the number drop, a faint grimace crossing his face before the upgrade screen vanished, replaced by the familiar timer.

〔00:05:00〕

His jaw tightened. The door had taken one minute. One minute he could handle standing around half-naked and covered in soap. But five?

The timer ticked down to 4:59, and Noah let out a slow breath through his nose. Nothing to do but wait.

Noah leaned back against the vanity, arms crossed, and waited. Soap still clung to his chest and stomach. Water droplets traced random paths down his shoulders and back.

〔00:03:22〕

Less than halfway done.

Noah tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. A crack ran through the paint near the corner—he’d noticed it before, kept meaning to fix it, never had. Seemed like such a small concern now. The house could fall apart around him, and he’d probably just put it back together.

Assuming he had enough AP.

〔00:01:45〕

His reflection caught his attention in the wide mirror—still fogged around the edges, but clear enough to show the scratches running across his shoulders and back. More than he’d realized. Sage really had gotten passionate.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth despite himself.

〔00:00:30〕

Almost there. The restlessness in his limbs had settled into something more manageable, or maybe he’d just gotten used to it. The timer continued its steady countdown, each digit flickering with that faint glow.

〔00:00:05〕

Noah pushed off from the vanity, straightening.

〔00:00:03〕

〔00:00:02〕

〔00:00:01〕

〔00:00:00〕

〔00:00:00〕

The screen vanished. Black energy erupted across the showerhead in a sudden surge, spilling outward like ripples across still water. It spread over the chrome surface, twisting and folding over itself as it worked, the dark film pulsing with something that looked almost alive.

Noah watched it with the same fascination he’d felt watching the door and window upgrade. There was something hypnotic about it. The way the energy moved, the way it seemed to know exactly where to go.

The energy stilled. Held for a moment. Then began to dissolve.

Wisps of dark smoke peeled away from the showerhead, drifting lazily into the air before fading completely. Within seconds, nothing remained but the showerhead itself—looking, as far as Noah could tell, exactly the same as it had before.

Noah didn’t bother checking it with Appraisal. He could find out what it did exactly later. Right now, he had one priority. He turned the knob.

Water sputtered. Once. Twice. Before settling into a steady but noticeably weaker stream. Noah couldn’t have cared less.

"Fifty AP," he muttered, stepping back under the spray. "Worth every point."

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