Then, the furious monster launched another series of impacts, slamming Brian Sullivan's head against the metal cabinet before he could grab hold of the handrail.

His vision went black, and he almost passed out.

Forcing himself to endure the dizziness in his head, he grabbed onto a steel pole inside the compartment and clung to it for dear life, letting the King Kong roll and tumble without any rhythm.

He could feel that his head was probably bleeding, and as the blood flowed, his energy slowly drained away.

He had no idea how much time had passed. Just when Brian Sullivan thought he couldn't hold on any longer, the King Kong finally calmed down again. This time, the calm was absolute—no more scraping sounds, no more shaking or biting, only the faint sound of running water.

Faced with this tough chunk of steel, the monster that resembled a prehistoric giant crocodile ultimately chose to give up.

Seizing this chance to catch his breath, Brian Sullivan gritted his teeth and focused his attention, channeling activity to stop his own bleeding. Then he tried to connect with the King Kong again. This time, the King Kong was in even worse shape—its activity was down to less than 10% and still slowly dropping. This wasn't the usual radiation-like outward loss of activity, but a true depletion.

If the King Kong were a living creature, it would definitely be on the verge of death.

Losing activity was like losing blood.

Brian Sullivan couldn't spare any more effort to treat his own injuries; he poured all his willpower into guiding the King Kong to absorb external activity and repair its body.

The King Kong was his greatest guarantee of survival in the apocalypse—he couldn't afford for anything major to go wrong.

……

From night until morning, Brian Sullivan didn't rest for even a minute that night, pouring all his energy into desperately repairing the King Kong.

When the first rays of morning sunlight shone through the cracks in the King Kong's armor, the repairs finally came to an end. The activity was successfully stabilized at the critical threshold of 15%, no longer leaking away. When activity drops below 15% overall, it slowly drains away; above 15%, it stops leaking and can even be absorbed from the environment.

A point of balance.

In this way, the King Kong's "life" was preserved.

Brian Sullivan was finally able to free himself from the exhausting repair work and check his surroundings.

The King Kong was lying on its side, toppled over, with the water level already receding—now only about up to his thighs, and still dropping at a rate visible to the naked eye. It was estimated that in less than half an hour, the water would be completely gone.

The receding water meant that the prehistoric crocodile-like mutant monster had also gone away with the flood.

With this enormous threat eliminated, the knot of anxiety in Brian Sullivan's heart finally loosened. At least on dry land, he hadn't yet encountered such massive mutant creatures, so the King Kong, this steel war machine, once again became his guarantee of safety.

However, the King Kong was now on the verge of being scrapped.

The main structure of the vehicle was fractured, and almost all functions were damaged. Counting both the activity-based repairs and Brian Sullivan's own manual fixes, it would take at least ten days to half a month to restore it.

In other words, he would have to stay here for at least ten days.

Only then could he set out again.

"First, I need to flip the King Kong over so the tires are on the ground... Just in case, I'll wait until the water is completely gone before taking action." Brian Sullivan made his plan.

Then he found some fang wolf meat, and not bothering to cook it, ate it raw.

Fang wolf meat that had gotten wet rotted quickly and couldn't be stored for long. Just as well, since Brian Sullivan was now extremely short on activity, and could replenish it from the fang wolf meat.

Raw meat tasted a bit disgusting.

The fang wolf had been dead for over a week, so most of the activity in the meat had already dissipated. However, since it was raw, the activity hadn't been destroyed by cooking. All in all, the amount of activity he could get from it was about the same as in previous days. Brian Sullivan forced himself to swallow a large chunk of fang wolf meat despite the nausea.

A few minutes later, a wave of heat spread from his stomach. The activity, dozens of times more concentrated than the free activity outside, accumulated in his limbs and bones, and began to repair Brian Sullivan's external bruises and the wound on his head.

Perhaps it was a case of "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but Brian Sullivan found that his control over activity had reached a new level—he could wield it as easily as his own arm. His body's integration with activity had also deepened significantly; where before he had the strength of one ox, now he felt as if, fully fed, he had the strength of one and a half oxen.

His mental connection with the King Kong also became closer, and the exchange of activity between them grew more frequent.

"Does this count as a blessing in disguise?" Brian Sullivan looked at the chaotic interior of the compartment, unable to say exactly how he felt.

Fortunately, all the turmoil had passed.

The apocalypse had not destroyed his determination to live well.

Chapter 12: The World After the Rain

"3:00 p.m., July 11, 2022. The floodwaters brought by the torrential rain have completely receded, leaving only a damp layer behind. I have decided to go out and right the King Kong." Taking his laptop out of a sealed bag, he opened the "Apocalypse Journal" document and recorded this entry. Brian Sullivan then shut down the computer and put it away again.

He didn't know how others survived in the apocalypse; he only knew that he survived and lived here in his own way.

Recording the experiences of each day, the progress of every research, and every event that happened was a compulsive hobby of his.