Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 195: Futures Written in Steel and Soil

Mariella wasn't in a hurry. She was, after all, now the landowner of an acre of black soil, so she could plant whatever she wanted.

At most ten months from now, her black land would yield its first batch of cherries.

The two of them rested for a while, each drinking a glass of lemonade, before getting back up to sow crops.

After finishing the farm work, they reviewed the day's haul.

In addition to 450 tons of aviation fuel, they had also collected six diesel tankers—350 tons in total—and four gasoline tankers, amounting to 220 tons of petrol.

Mariella smiled. "If we use it carefully, our team could probably last for decades."

Chandler looked at her and finally voiced the question he had been holding back. "You think the natural disasters will never end?"

...

"Maybe they will end one day," Mariella said with a bitter smile. "But in my last life, I never saw even a trace of hope before I died." Then, she revealed something important. "In the fourth year of the apocalypse, a lot of ability users had already appeared. That only means things kept getting worse, and humanity had to evolve through genetic mutation just to avoid extinction."

Chandler fell silent for a long time.

"What are you thinking about?" Mariella leaned lightly against his shoulder, then couldn't help yawning.

Another high-intensity day of looting supplies, confessing feelings, and somehow ending up with a boyfriend.

It had been very productive, and she was starting to feel sleepy.

Chandler glanced at her and gave a low chuckle. "I'm thinking that by your logic, the military is going to become the strongest power."

Mariella nodded. "Military bases will basically become independent strongholds. As disasters worsen, the state system will collapse within two years.

"The military has the strongest weapons, the most advanced land, sea, and air transport, including carriers, and even space-capable carriers. Strength determines status. No civilian or official base can compete with them.

"Of course, rankings still depend on troop strength, recruitment scale, weaponry, logistics, supply reserves, and the leadership ability of the top commander."

She paused, then smiled slightly. "You used to be special forces. You know the military best. So later on, you'll help decide which military base we should join."

In the early stages, military bases didn't accept ordinary survivors. It wasn't until the fourth year of the apocalypse—when bases began slaughtering each other for survival resources—that things spiraled into total chaos.

Small swallowed big, big swallowed bigger. Predation everywhere.

For survival, the battles between bases grew increasingly brutal and blood-soaked.

Civilian bases were absorbed by official ones, official ones by military bases, and stronger military bases devoured weaker ones. It became normal.

"Why would they keep fighting each other instead of forming alliances?" Chandler asked.

Mariella shook her head. "Because commanders who hold real power don't want to be under anyone else. There were attempts at alliances, but they always collapsed into internal conflict. No one trusts anyone. Everyone fears losing out in the end. So they'd rather eliminate threats entirely."

How could one allow another to sleep soundly beside their own bed?

Those forced to serve under others were unwilling to submit, while those in power were never truly at ease. In the end, everyone sought to eliminate rivals and hold authority entirely in their own hands before they could feel secure.

Chandler thought for a moment. "I'll contact my former comrades when I can. Maybe we can join a military base early."

If civilian bases were destined to fall, then skipping straight to military bases would save time and effort.

Mariella smiled. "No rush. We'll stay in Celestine Ridge a bit longer and build up strength first."

She knew the truth—no base supported freeloaders. And entry itself required huge "membership fees" paid in resources. After joining, survivors still had to pay monthly resource quotas like rent.

Inside every base, power structures were complicated. To live comfortably, one needed constant resources to maintain connections and status.

Even a mountain of gold would eventually get drained.

Once resources ran out, survivors were pushed to the front lines to earn points through blood and combat.

Mariella's strategy was simple: The later they entered a base, the more strength they preserved.

Chandler pressed his lips together, clearly deep in thought.

Mariella lightly tapped him and smiled. "It's getting late. Let's wash up and sleep."

...

She didn't expect him to refuse her suggestion to sleep together.