Zombie Apocalypse: Reborn With A Farming Space Chapter 3 3: Ability Awakening

A few seconds passed before the young woman understood she was perched on a plush mattress, her body aching with real pain. This sensation of hurt confirmed she was truly alive, not caught in a dream. The daring idea of rebirth struck her abruptly.

Glancing down at her outfit, she spotted the childish pajamas from her pre-apocalypse days. Shock widened her eyes as the realization took firm hold.

Gripping the bed for balance, she stumbled over to the desk. Spotting the calendar, she snatched it up and whispered roughly, "May 5th, 2188. I've really gone back to the start of the apocalypse."

Remembering her final moments before death, Jiao Lizhi balled her hands into fists. With the gods giving her another shot, she swore to exact vengeance and endure the end times this round.

Resolving this, she hauled her frail form to the closet and yanked out a knapsack. Her weakened state wouldn't let her haul much weight, so she stuffed in just some undergarments and fresh outfits.

She collected every bit of medication, snacks, and sealed water available in the space and crammed them all into the pack.

After packing up, she shed the pajamas and slipped into dark sweatpants, a dark tee, and dark running shoes.

Passing by the mirror, her image halted her. Her long, waist-length black locks flowed smoothly like a midnight veil behind her.

Upon viewing her hair, she resolved right away to chop it off. Even knowing she'd develop water powers soon and clean it daily, lengthy tresses were useless in the end times—they'd block her view and slow her in fights.

She hunted through the room for clippers a good while until discovering some in the washroom. Before the mirror, she sheared her locks into a neat short cut.

Uneven edges or hair harm didn't bother her. As long as it freed her sight and actions, the look was fine.

Finishing up, a wave of vertigo hit her, forcing her to brace against the wall. Regaining poise, she rifled the washroom shelf and located an electronic temperature reader.

She inserted the device in her ear, and after a gentle chime, checked the display to verify her hunch.

39.3 degrees Celsius—she was burning with fever.

Jiao Lizhi let out an annoyed breath at the high reading. In this condition, escaping the dorm was out of the question.

Top task: medicate and recuperate. Once the heat dropped, she'd head out. She needed to flee the campus zone before disaster struck.

Decision set, she exited the washroom, fetched a water flask and bread slice from the pack.

Devouring half the bread and gulping some water, she downed the pills. Then, she stowed items back in the pack and shoved the desk against the entrance.

Ensured the barrier could hold off undead assaults, she stretched out on the mattress and shut her lids.

Soon, slumber overtook her lightly. Without her knowledge, the haze in the atmosphere infiltrated her frame gradually, drawn in like a whirlpool.

She figured rest would evade her, yet the drugs worked wonders, pulling her into profound sleep. Awakening, the outdoors remained shadowy, with sporadic zombie growls drifting from afar.

Propping up in bed, she grabbed the temp checker for her reading. Noting the drop to 37.8°C, she exhaled gratefully.

Urgent to depart campus, she pulled her water container and leftover bread half. Meal done, she shut her eyes, probing for inner power.

Suddenly, her gaze snapped open in astonishment. She fixed on her hand, coated in a sheer water film. The liquid continued emerging from her skin, falling from fingertips to the ground.

"I really unlocked my power this soon," she whispered in awe, her tone brimming with joy.

During the end times, beyond cures and provisions, H2O ranked as a crucial supply.

Her fresh power meant no fretting over dehydration. Upon hitting level one, she'd generate two liters per day—plenty for sustenance.

By sipping sparingly, she could stock some to trade for eats. Regarding zombie slaying with it, that'd wait till level five.

Such constraints labeled water powers as support types. Not until level five could wielders harness produced liquid for strikes with sufficient force.

A grin lit her features as she snatched an empty flask from the pack. Positioning a digit at the opening, she directed her force there.

Shortly, liquid flowed steadily from her digit into the container. Though the flow matched her smallest finger's girth, it surpassed her hopes.

In her prior existence, her initial output was mere mouthfuls. Filling half a flask took a full day, draining her completely.

Yet this time, after topping the full flask, fatigue eluded her. Her reserves felt just lightly tapped. The contrast amazed her.

As she pondered the cause of this life's edge over the last, her sight hazed over.