Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train

Lin Xian, fully armed, slung a backpack over his shoulder and stepped onto the dark platform with KIKI once again. Perhaps because it was nighttime, a bone-chilling cold seeped through even the tunnels deep within the underground city.

The underground city’s mobile terminal successfully connected with the Infinite Train’s responder system, allowing Ding Junyi to communicate directly with Lin Xian through the terminal. Once they entered the elevator, they confirmed they could still access messages from the train.

"The entire underground city from Levels 20 to 60 is the main residential and work area. Levels 60 to 70 are for industrial production, research, and storage. Below that, Levels 70 to 80 house third-class citizens—the most densely populated level. Level 89, however, is a permanent preservation zone for civilization storage. It holds various species fossils, plant seeds, a gene cryo-storage facility, and an archive of artistic artifacts. Hardly anyone works there, and it doesn’t have any vital survival resources, so after the infection broke out, very few people would have gone there. But the space is enormous, so be careful.”

Ding Junyi’s voice remained calm as she explained through the communicator.

“Wow, so forty floors are reserved for the least populated first- and second-class citizens, while ten floors cram in the majority of third-class citizens? That’s some messed-up logic…” KIKI snorted.

Lin Xian glanced at her. “If you were here, you definitely wouldn’t be living below Level 60.”

KIKI scoffed. “As if I’d want to stay here. It’s suffocating. My Carriage No. 2 is way more comfortable. When we finally break through Palma Grasslands, cross the Romu Desert, and reach the Pacific Ocean… at least if I die, it’ll be somewhere better than this place.”

“It’s a shame, though,” she added. “I thought we’d find a ton of supplies here…”

Lin Xian didn’t seem to mind. “If we can get that Gemini 11R nuclear electric locomotive, that alone would be a huge win. And on top of that, there are two entire research carriages. If we integrate them into the train, our Infinite Train’s planting base will be up and running in no time. Expand the air and water circulation system, and our train won’t be any worse than an Intercontinental-Class one.”

With the Polar Night closing in, the underground city collapsing, and unknown subterranean creatures lurking, even this much of a haul was already a blessing. Lin Xian wasn’t about to be greedy and attempt to loot the entire underground city—he wouldn’t have enough lives to survive that.

Besides, he hadn’t actually obtained anything yet.

Well, except for three more women on the train… and a potted plant.

A dull thud echoed as Freight Elevator No. 3 rumbled to a stop on the offline Level 89, accompanied by a loop of old advertisements playing in the background.

With a ding, the elevator doors slowly opened.

Lin Xian and KIKI stood on either side, guns raised, eyes sharp with vigilance.

The elevator light cast a dim glow onto the pitch-black floor outside. Scanning their surroundings, they saw an immense, dark space filled with towering storage shelves.

KIKI fiddled with her mobile terminal, pulling up the navigation for the Track Safety Passage.

“This place is empty. We should be extra careful.”

The vast space gave Lin Xian an unsettling feeling. Besides the elevator’s dim lighting, everything around them was dead silent.

“Let’s move.”

Click.

As soon as Lin Xian’s foot touched the ground, it was like dropping a stone into a still lake—the sound sent an eerie ripple through the silence.

Level 89.

At this moment, the two of them were nearly 450 meters underground, and an immense pressure weighed down on them.

Lin Xian took the lead, a tactical flashlight clipped to his ear, sweeping the surroundings.

This floor had a much higher ceiling than Level 52—at least ten meters tall. The massive storage racks loomed in the darkness like mountains.

Rows of neatly arranged insect specimens lined the shelves. The aisles stretched on endlessly, disappearing into the void.

“We’re at G-Zone, Aisle 117. We need to turn right and go down the passage near the Gene Cryo-Storage Facility.”

KIKI’s voice was barely above a whisper, but in the vast silence, it sounded like a thunderclap.

Lin Xian walked briskly ahead—then suddenly stopped.

“…Did you hear that?”

KIKI instantly tensed, her shoulders shrinking as she scanned their surroundings warily. “I… didn’t hear anything?”

They stood still for a few seconds. Aside from their breathing, there was nothing.

“…Don’t scare me like that.”

Lin Xian gestured for silence and pressed forward into the darkness.

This time, he drew his GK03 Electric Blade, slinging his automatic rifle onto his back. In this eerie space, if danger struck, using Backlash or Power Surge would be far smarter than firing a gun.

A single gunshot could trigger a Zombie Tide, and in a place like this, they wouldn’t even know which direction to run.

Turning out of Aisle G117, they entered the fossil storage section, where rows of skeletal remains stood in eerie formations.

KIKI followed closely behind, her unease growing with every step.

“…Lin Xian, talk to me,” she whispered. “This place is freaking me out.”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything. Like… when I was unconscious, did you try to save me? Maybe even give me CPR or something?”

“You seriously want to discuss this now?” Lin Xian sighed.

“I’m scared, okay…”

KIKI took a deep breath, quickening her pace to stay close. “Or how about this—are we gonna pick up more people for the train? Should we install an AI driver? If we reach the ocean and the rails are gone, are we turning the train into a sea cruiser or a submarine?”

Lin Xian replied evenly, “The more people, the better. More hands, better odds of survival.”

“What about those three people today? Are we taking them along?”

“Not planning on it. We’re not a rescue train. Besides, those scientists don’t seem like they need to flee with us. They’re still hoping to find the New Federation Government and pledge loyalty.”

“Pfft, let them go. They’ll probably be less safe there than on the Infinite Train.”

Lin Xian’s voice grew serious. “What I’m more concerned about is the High-Altitude Corridor.”

He continued, “Ding Junyi mentioned that during the Great Migration, plenty of aircraft and airships were evacuated alongside the underground city. But they all got wiped out. That means whatever’s up there might be even worse than the monsters on the ground. Since Apocalypse Day, all airborne and satellite equipment have gone down with the rest. If something’s in the sky, it’s probably not just that giant jellyfish.”

Just thinking about the Floating Colossal Corpse from KIKI’s Corruption Nightmare sent a chill down Lin Xian’s spine.

The skies weren’t necessarily safer than the ground.

If not for the Infinite Train’s thick armor, who knew how many times they would’ve died already?

As they continued forward, the air grew noticeably colder.

Leaving the fossil zone behind, they entered a larger section filled with numbered glass containers—each one storing dried plant seeds.

“Lin Xian, look! So many seeds!”

KIKI shined her flashlight over the shelves, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Didn’t you want to grow vegetables on the train? Should we grab some and start cultivating?”

Lin Xian scanned the shelves and made a quick decision. “Yeah. Since we’re here, might as well take some.”

Good crop seeds were hard to come by. The Black Rain had devastated natural plant life, making fresh vegetables and fruits nearly impossible to find. Lin Xian didn’t have the luxury of searching for them in the wild.

If these were readily available, he’d be a fool not to take some.

Slipping off his backpack, he started selecting and packing seeds.

Scrape…

Thunk…

Just as they were gathering seeds, a strange noise echoed through the space.

It sounded like something wooden being dragged along the ground.

Both of them froze, holding their breath.

Lin Xian was sure this time—

He hadn’t imagined it.