Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

​The MC snapped his fingers.

​From the side of the stage, two burly men wheeled out a gurney. Lying on it was a severely injured man, his chest bandaged, his face pale and slick with cold sweat.

A heart monitor clicked beside him, its steady, slow beeps indicating a very weak, failing pulse.

​”This is a volunteer from our lower sector,” the MC explained, entirely unbothered by the clinical coldness of the display. ”Internal hemorrhaging, severe nerve damage, and multiple compound fractures. According to our top medical staff, his survival window is less than twelve hours.”

​The crowd stared, some with morbid curiosity, others with growing skepticism.

​”With the owner’s permission,” the MC said, picking up the tiny glass vial with gloved fingers. He uncorked it, and walked over to the dying man, parting his blood-stained lips, before pouring half of the vial directly into his mouth.

​April watched from the VIP box, her chin resting on her hand behind her black masquerade mask. She didn’t feel a single shred of anxiety regarding the vial’s effect because she knew the exact potency of her revitalization spring water; even half a vial was more than enough to perform what these people would consider a miracle.

But what she did feel a bit antsy about was their reaction towards the miracle. What if they concluded it was staged? Still, even if there were those who doubted it, there would be those who believed it like it was their last lifeline.

​For the first five seconds, nothing happened. The heart monitor continued its sluggish, dying beep.

​Then, the man’s chest suddenly rose with a sharp, gasping intake of air.

​Beep-beep-beep-beep.

​The cardiac monitor’s rhythm instantly accelerated, transitioning into a steady, strong, and perfectly healthy frequency.

Right before the eyes of the stunned audience, the gray, deathly pallor on the man’s face began to flush with a warm, healthy color. The deep, pained groans he had been making ceased entirely, his breathing turning deep and stable. And even the visible wounds that had not been bandaged closed up before their eyes.

Now, there was no way for them to just conclude that it was a trick.

The man slowly opened his eyes, blinking up at the stage lights, before pushing himself up onto his elbows. The bandages over his chest didn’t magically disappear, but the sheer, visible return of life and strength in his movements was undeniable.

​The auction hall went completely, utterly silent.

​Then, a chaotic explosion of hushed, frantic whispers and scraping chairs broke out across the floor. Several elderly tycoons actually stood up, their eyes wide, their hands trembling as they stared at the man on the gurney.

​In the VIP box, Nat let out a low, satisfied whistle, his golden eyes burning with amusement as he looked at April.

”Well, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning in so close his breath brushed the shell of her ear. ”I think you just broke their minds. Let’s see how much they’re willing to bleed for you now.”

The MC smiled, entirely unfazed by the sudden uproar on the floor. Though he was amazed by the effect of this supposed miracle water, he had to keep his composure.

He stepped back to the center of the stage as the assistant wheeled the newly revived volunteer away.

​Beside the podium, a steel case was brought out. When the latches clicked open, the stage lights caught the contents inside, reflecting a blinding, crystal clear sheen. It was a full crate of the tiny glass vials, nestled perfectly into velvet slots.

​”A full crate of twenty vials,” the MC announced, his voice dropping into a thrilling, resonant pitch. ”The starting bid begins at a flat ten billion.”

​The floor instantly erupted into frantic muttering. Ten billion was an astronomical sum, even for the elite sitting in this room.

​”Ten billion?” an elderly tycoon in the front row scoffed, adjusting his glasses as he leaned toward his associate. ”We saw a demonstration, yes, but who is to say the rest of the crate isn’t fake? How do we know we aren’t buying ordinary well water packed in fancy glass?”

​The doubts began to spread like a contagion, the rich shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

But the MC, having been thoroughly trained to handle the volatile skepticism of the black market, simply raised one of the vials from the crate, holding it up directly under the spotlight.

​”This water is plenty times different from a normal vial of water, gentlemen,” the MC said smoothly. ”It shimmers, and you can see that distinct, ethereal glow just by looking at it. And for those who worry that it might have been diluted to mute its healing effects just to boost sales... worry not.”

​He snapped his fingers.

​A female assistant hurried onto the stage, placing a clear glass of regular, transparent water onto the podium. The MC picked up the glass, took a small sip just to confirm to the audience that it was indeed ordinary water, and then set it back down.

​”Take a look as I pour a single drop of this miracle water in,” he said, holding up the rest of the vial that he had fed the dying man with.

​The overhead cameras immediately zoomed into the glass, displaying the experiment on the massive projection screens hanging around the hall for everyone to see. The entire audience leaned forward, their eyes glued to the screens.

​The MC picked up a dropper from the casing of the steel crate and then used it on the vial. Thereafter, he squeezed the dropper, releasing a single, shimmering bead of the revitalization water.

​The moment the drop hit the surface of the plain water, the room gasped. The drop did not dissolve. It didn’t cloud the liquid or mix with the regular water at all. Instead, it sat suspended inside the glass like a flawless, glowing pearl, maintaining its own separate form, completely independent of its surroundings.

​Even the MC’s eyes widened slightly in genuine amazement. He had only been following the exact instructions Nat’s men had handed him before the show, but seeing the physical phenomenon with his own eyes was something else entirely.

​Up in the VIP box, April watched the crowd’s stunned faces with a flat, calm expression behind her mask.

Earlier that week, while experimenting with her resources, she had come to realize that the pure revitalization spring water absolutely could not mix with normal, ordinary water.

Its density and mystical properties rejected any attempt at dilution. She had shared this trait with Nat, and this live display had turned out to be the absolute best way to prove to the audience that there was no felony or trickery involved. It was completely untamperable.

​Down on the stage, the MC quickly recovered his composure, a sharp, challenging grin breaking across his face as he looked out at the room of billionaires.

​”Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” the MC’s voice boomed, his hand gesturing grandly toward the shimmering crate. ”Are you ready to purchase this miracle water, or will you just sit there and watch your only chance at a second life pass you by?”