The Ice Cellar

Chapter 2 The Useless Skill

The white light cleared. Cold air hit the back of my throat, and my breath clouded in front of me.

I was standing in the underground ice cellar.

My phone buzzed.

[Phase Two: Skill Selection. Choose one ability to aid your survival. You have five minutes.]

Messages flooded the group chat.

Derrick was the first to announce his choice. "I've selected 'Unlimited Firewood.' We'll have a constant source of heat at the villa."

A stream of praise followed. A moment later, Lia posted, "I chose 'Resource Duplication.' I hope I can make enough food for everyone."

Derrick replied before anyone else. "Brilliant choice, Lia. You're already the heart of this team." Then he posted an announcement.

"@All, from now on, all matters regarding resource management will be handled by Lia. She will coordinate with me to ensure a fair distribution."

In two messages, he handed my job to an intern.

My own screen offered 'Arctic Endurance,' 'Steel Skin,' and 'Cryomancy.' I scrolled past them to the option everyone else had ignored.

*'Waste Heat Absorption & Energy Conversion.'*

I selected it.

The chat erupted into mockery.

"'Waste Heat'?" one of the marketing guys wrote. "There's no heat to waste! It's an arctic apocalypse!"

Caroline, our sales director, added, "What are you going to power, Yara? Your self-pity?"

They had missed the thermodynamics in the skill description. A larger temperature difference meant more energy to convert.

The cellar sat over geothermal heat, and the ground beneath me would keep feeding it.

They had chosen ways to endure the cold. I had chosen a way to power a shelter.

A private message from Derrick popped up.

"Yara, this is not the time for theatrics. Your choice was childish and reckless. Frankly, I'm disappointed in you."

I read the message once, pressed 'Mute,' and put the phone away.

The cellar held nothing except several rows of rusted industrial shelving. I pulled the first unit apart.

My fingers were already numb, but I had spent years as an engineer before moving into operations. The bolts came free, and the metal struts became a wide grid across the floor.

That grid would be the converter's core.

A klaxon blared.

[Arctic Stormfront imminent. All players, seek shelter immediately. Temperature drop to -80°C in T-minus 10 seconds.]

I placed the final metal bar into the frame.

The countdown flashed 3, then 2, then 1.

A deep groan rolled through the ceiling as the world above froze.

The frame under my hands began to hum. Heat rose from deep underground, weak at first, then steady. A small orange indicator came on.

I held my palms over it and went back to work.