The movie 2012 is set during the apocalypse.
Humanity across the globe faces annihilation, and in the end, only a small fraction of people survive.
At its core, the story explores human nature—
When disaster strikes, when death stares someone in the face—what choices will they make?
Boom!
Suddenly, the ground trembled violently.
Inside the plane, Fenric and the others felt the shock. Murmurs of alarm filled the cabin.
The rich man anxiously urged the captain, "Hurry up! Get this plane in the air—now!"
Only Fenric remained calm.
The system had granted him five hours. That meant the true catastrophe wouldn't strike just yet.
"Belle, don't just stand there. Sit down," Fenric said with a faint smile.
Belle, who had been standing behind him like an attentive attendant, nodded and sat on the sofa.
The aircraft's engines roared as it accelerated down the runway. Within moments, the private jet lifted off, soaring smoothly into the sky.
Belle let out a soft breath of relief.
"Finally…"
"Don't be so tense," Fenric said lightly, pouring a glass of wine and handing it to her. "Here, have a drink. It'll calm you down."
At this moment, Fenric might as well have been the real owner of the plane.
The rich man, who had been glaring resentfully moments before, didn't dare say a word. Fenric's effortless display of power earlier had terrified him into silence.
"Thank you," Belle said softly. She wanted to refuse—she couldn't drink—but the words that came out instead were polite. She raised the glass and took a hesitant sip.
This was wine poured by Lord Shura himself. To refuse would feel disrespectful!
Cough! Cough!
The whiskey burned her throat instantly, making Belle cough uncontrollably.
Fenric chuckled, realizing at last that she wasn't used to alcohol. He turned to the rich man.
"Got any other drinks?"
"Yes! Yes, of course!" The rich man scrambled to fetch two bottles of juice from the minibar.
Fenric took the whiskey from Belle's hands and handed her a glass of juice.
"Drink this instead. No need to force it."
"Okay."
Belle smiled faintly, relieved. Inwardly, she felt that Shura wasn't as cold-hearted as he appeared.
Fenric turned to the rich man and his family, who sat stiff and pale.
"Relax. I'm trying to escape this apocalypse too. As long as you cooperate, I won't harm you."
The rich man nodded vigorously, his jowls quivering.
"No problem, sir. Everything on this plane is at your disposal. If you want money, I'll give you money—just don't hurt us."
"Good," Fenric said with a satisfied smile. "Let's make this trip a pleasant one."
He then pointed at the bodyguard standing nearby.
"You there. Take care of your friend's body. The blood smell might scare the kid."
The bodyguard hesitated, clearly annoyed, but dared not refuse. He quickly dragged the corpse into the storage compartment.
Belle suddenly spoke, her tone hesitant.
"Shura… may I ask what our plan is next? Are we just… running for our lives? Or should we be preparing supplies?"
"Escape?" Fenric chuckled. "Not exactly. Let's call it… a vacation."
"A vacation…?" Belle blinked, stunned.
"A rather long one," Fenric continued with a grin. Of course, they'll need supplies, but lugging around too much isn't convenient. In the original story, so many people boarded the Ark that food shortages were inevitable.
"Shura, I can help with that," Belle said quickly. A small pouch appeared in her hand.
"This is a Poach Storage Bag. My sister gave it to me—it can store normal items. If you don't have one, I can leave it to you once we leave this world!"
Fenric's brows rose in surprise.
A storage bag, huh? Must be from a mythical dungeon world.
"How much can it hold?" he asked, intrigued.
"The capacity isn't huge—about eight cubic meters in total. But for food storage, that's several tons' worth."
"Not bad," Fenric said with an approving smile. "But as for giving it to me, you don't need to. I'm guessing you haven't had it for three years yet, right?"
Belle froze. "Ah… I forgot about the trading rule."
In the Samsara space, any special item could only be traded once every three years.
"Since you've got it, we'll gather supplies when we land. Everything on this plane is good quality—take whatever we can. No wasting," Fenric instructed.
"Got it."
The two conversed in Veiler language, leaving the rich man and his family looking baffled, unable to understand a word.
Ding!
"Attention: 10 minutes remaining before the disaster begins," the system's voice rang simultaneously in Fenric's and Belle's ears.
"Mr. Rich," Fenric said casually, "turn on the TV."
The rich man hurried to grab the remote and switched on the onboard television.
To his bewilderment, the two "robbers" sat calmly watching the news as if nothing were happening. He hesitated, then decided to watch too.
The news channel was filled with politicians confidently denying any notion of a global disaster. Analysts—the so-called "brick experts"—dismissed warnings as baseless fearmongering, spouting data like clowns in a circus.
Ten minutes later.
The broadcast abruptly cut off. The host's face appeared on screen, pale and shaken.
"We interrupt this program for urgent news. Three minutes ago, the Yellowstone Park supervolcano erupted. Due to the massive explosion, all nearby towns have begun collapsing…"
The camera feed switched to live footage of Salt Lake City.
The ground split apart violently. Skyscrapers toppled like dominoes. It was as though the world itself was being torn upside down.
Everyone inside the cabin froze in shock.
Even Belle's face went pale.
Fenric's expression remained calm, but in such a catastrophe, even he knew—anyone caught unprepared would be swallowed alive.