Seeing Elric's advertisement in the survivor chat group, Liam Ford's stomach twisted with hunger—a gnawing, desperate sensation that had become his constant companion over the past five days.
He had been living off scraps at the Hudson State University swimming pool with the other trapped athletes, and his patience was running thin. The chlorinated water they'd been forced to drink made him nauseous. The moldy protein bars they'd found in someone's gym bag were long gone. Even his pride, that massive ego that had carried him through years of bullying and intimidation, was beginning to crack under the weight of genuine starvation.
So, he sent Elric a private message, his thick fingers jabbing at his phone screen with barely controlled aggression.
Liam Ford:[Picture]
Liam Ford:How about this, man? I explained the situation to you already. Here's a picture of the fruit—thirty bottles of water and ten packs of instant noodles. One fruit for that much. It's a good deal.
Attached was a photo of the so-called ability fruit—a strange, black-and-white piece of produce that glowed faintly with a sinister aura, pulsing with an otherworldly light that seemed almost alive. The pattern on its surface resembled swirling marble, dark and light intertwining in hypnotic spirals.
The picture looked authentic. No signs of being faked, no obvious Photoshop artifacts. The lighting matched the pool's fluorescent fixtures, and Liam's massive hand was visible at the edge of the frame, providing scale—the fruit was roughly the size of a large apple.
Elric frowned at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image carefully.
Liam's reputation on campus was terrible—absolutely notorious, in fact. Arrogant, violent, and entitled, he had been a bully long before the world ended. Stories about him circulated regularly: stolen lunches, extorted money, students shoved into lockers or cornered in bathroom stalls. The campus security had files on him thicker than most textbooks.
Elric didn't like the idea of getting tangled with someone like that. Every instinct screamed that this was dangerous, that Liam couldn't be trusted, that any deal with him would end badly.
But this fruit… if it really worked, if the rumors about awakened abilities were true, it could strengthen his own Devil Fruit system.
He couldn't ignore it. The potential was too great.
After a moment's thought, his fingers flying across his phone's keyboard, Elric replied:
Elric:Ten bottole of water and ten packs of noodles. That's my offer. We meet at the ground floor of the men's dorm at 3 p.m. sharp. You bring the fruit, we trade.
He deliberately slashed Liam's asking price in half—a calculated move. Water was precious, perhaps the most valuable commodity in this new world. Even with over seventy gallons stockpiled in his apartment, carefully arranged in rows along every available wall, it would only last him about two weeks at his current consumption rate—and that was if he was careful, if he didn't waste a single drop.
He couldn't afford to be careless, couldn't let desperation or greed cloud his judgment.
After a pause that stretched for nearly three minutes, Liam fired back. Elric could almost feel the anger radiating through the screen.
Liam:I can do ten gallons. But the men's dorm? No way, man. The fog's everywhere outside. If I step out of the pool building, I'll be dead in five minutes. You should just bring the food to me. You're eating fine, aren't you? What's the risk for you?
Elric's reply was firm, typed out without hesitation.
Elric:Not happening. I don't care how you make it work—find a way to hold out against the mist. The trade happens at the ground floor of the dorms, or there's no deal.
There was no way he'd walk into Liam's turf at the pool. Even if Liam really had a fruit to trade, even if the offer was genuine, Elric wasn't stupid enough to risk an ambush. The swimming complex was isolated, surrounded by open courtyards where the toxic fog pooled thickest. It was the perfect place for a trap, no escape routes, nowhere to run if things went south.
And knowing Liam's reputation, things would definitely go south.
Liam gritted his teeth when he saw the message, his jaw clenching so hard that the muscle jumped visibly beneath his skin. He wanted to throw his phone across the room, to smash something, to unleash the frustration building in his chest.
But he needed that food. Needed it desperately.
Finally, after forcing himself to take several deep breaths, he typed back:
Liam:Fine. Half past two, bottom of the men's dorm. I'll figure it out.
Inside the locker room of Hudson State's swimming complex, Liam tossed his phone onto a bench with more force than necessary. It clattered against the metal surface, the sound echoing in the cavernous space.
The screen light reflected off his sharp jawline as he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with contempt:
"Idiot. Still pretending to bargain with me. This afternoon, when I take every last bottle of your water, you'll learn real quick who's in charge."
He leaned back in his chair—a lifeguard's chair he'd dragged into the locker room—his massive figure at nearly six-foot-three casting long shadows across the tiled floor. Muscles rippled even in the dim emergency lighting as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Around him, scattered across benches and sprawled on the floor, a dozen stranded athletes were lounging miserably. Most of them were looking to him as their de facto leader—some out of genuine respect for his strength, others out of pure fear. Liam had made it very clear on day two what happened to people who challenged his authority.
Liam wasn't planning on a fair trade. The thought had never even crossed his mind.
From the beginning, from the very moment he'd sent that first message, his goal had been to lure Elric into a trap, strip him of his supplies, and leave him to rot—or better yet, beat him bloody first as a lesson to anyone else who might think themselves clever.
Yes, he had awakened a power. The fruit had granted him something extraordinary, something that elevated him above normal humans.
But unlike what he had told Elric in their earlier conversations, unlike the dismissive comments he'd made to the other athletes about his "weak, useless barrier," it wasn't some fragile shield that shattered under pressure.
His Protective Shield was ironclad—strong enough to withstand an iron pipe swung at full force, strong enough to deflect thrown objects, even strong enough to contain a person completely if he concentrated hard enough.
Once trapped inside one of his barriers, no air could get in, no strength could break through, no weapon could pierce it. He'd tested it extensively over the past day, experimenting on some of the weaker athletes who'd complained about his hoarding of supplies. They'd learned quickly that resistance was futile.
Combined with his brute strength—he'd been the university's star wrestler before the apocalypse, undefeated in his weight class for two years running—and his dominance over the trapped athletes who outnumbered any potential threat, Liam was practically untouchable.
He was, in his own mind, the apex predator of this new world.
"First, I need to fill my stomach." He stood, his chair scraping loudly against the tile, and walked toward a corroded water pipe that jutted from the wall near the showers. "No way I make it through the fog on an empty belly."
The water that sputtered from the pipes when he turned the rusted valve had long since been tainted—it came out brownish, smelling faintly of chemicals and decay, with an oily sheen on its surface that caught the light in rainbow patterns.
But Liam didn't care. Poisoned food still filled the gut, still provided calories and hydration, even if it made you sick afterward. The nausea was manageable. Painful, but manageable.
Inhaling the mist outside was far worse—searing pain in the lungs, crippling agony within minutes, followed by convulsions and death if exposure lasted too long. He'd watched it happen to a freshman who'd panicked and tried to run home on the second day.
He bent down and drank deeply, cupping his hands beneath the flow and bringing the foul liquid to his mouth. It tasted like rust and rot, burning as it went down, but he forced himself to swallow gulp after gulp until his stomach felt heavy and full.
"Guh… disgusting."
Still, the nausea was easier to bear than suffocating in the mist. He could handle some stomach cramps. He'd handled worse during wrestling training camps.
The Hidden Stash
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then strode over to a locked cabinet in the far corner of the locker room—a metal storage unit that had once held pool equipment and first aid supplies.
Pulling out a key from around his neck, one he'd taken from the facility manager's office on the first day, he opened it with a satisfying click and retrieved two packs of instant noodles from the very back, hidden beneath some old towels and a deflated kickboard.
His hidden stash. His secret reserve.
The other athletes thought all the food was gone, thought they were down to contaminated water and whatever scraps they could scavenge. But Liam always looked out for himself first. Always had, always would.
This would hold him over until he could get his hands on Elric's supplies—and once he had those, he'd be set for weeks, maybe even a month if he rationed properly.
"Yeah," he smirked, tearing open the wrapper with his teeth, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet space. "Let's see who walks away alive today, Elric."
He didn't bother cooking the noodles properly—just crumbled them into his mouth dry, crunching them between his teeth like crackers, washing them down with more of the tainted water.
There will be 2 daily chapters, in my patreon. If you are interested can check it out.
patreon.com/B_A_3439