[Time Remaining in Reality: 00 Hours 00 Minutes 10 Seconds]
In the underground garage of Cloudtop International, I sat in the driver's seat of the Land Rover Defender, gripping the wheel.
This wasn't the empty shell I bought. In the last few hours, Shadow and I filled every crack of this car like ants moving house.
Trunk: Two brand new Honda Silent Inverter Generators. Industrial battery packs. Rear seats folded: Stacked with cases of military MREs, dehydrated veggies, antibiotics, and the crate of imported beef cans for Shadow. Roof rack: Two sets of foldable solar panels. Four barrels of high-purity diesel.
Most precious: In the passenger footwell, two heavy black engineering plastic cases. Inside were core components for a small CNC machine and precision molds—"scrap" I bought from a bankrupt factory for a high price. In the apocalypse, these were the seeds of industrial civilization.
"Ready, Shadow?"
Shadow sat in the passenger seat, wearing a new tactical collar (with micro flashlight and camera). Grinning at the countdown.
"Woof. (Hurry up. This Lord needs to patrol his territory.)"
"System, open Return Channel."
I commanded in my mind.
[Host carrying large mass of physical matter (Vehicle and Cargo) detected.][Calculating mass...][Additional Energy Required: 50 Points.][Pay?]
"Pay!"
No hesitation. 50 points was nothing compared to this truckload.
VMMMMM—!!!
A blue beam, thicker than ever, descended from the void. Engulfed the Defender.
Space warped. Concrete walls melted like wax. Weightlessness hit. Like being tossed in a washing machine, car and all.
...
BOOM!
Tires slammed onto hard ground. Suspension groaned. Car rocked violently, then settled.
Familiar smell of rot and dust. Even through the windows, I felt it.
I opened my eyes.
Headlights cut the darkness. Not the garage wall. But the heavy, blast-proof door of Sector C Shelter, welded shut by our own hands.
We were back.
Driving a car. Carrying a mobile treasury.
"This feeling... so good."
I patted the steering wheel. Looked at the control room hall. The empty, dead, wasteland hall now felt crowded with this black beast parked inside. But it felt safer than ever.
Like moving a modern fortress into the stone age.
"Out. Work to do!"
I pushed the door open. Jumped down.
Shadow bolted out. Ran to the corner. Lifted his leg. Peed.
"Marking territory." He looked back. "Scent faded while we were gone. Need to refresh."
"Sure, sure. Whatever."
I started unloading. Massive job. But I worked with fire in my veins.
First, Energy.
I moved the Honda generators. Wired them into the shelter's backup grid.
"Start."
Pulled the cord.
Purrr—
Quiet motor hum. Way quieter than the old diesel one. More efficient.
Voltage meter stabilized at 220V. Lighting system full power. Every dark corner lit up.
Next, Ventilation.
Swapped the moldy filters in the ducts with the industrial purification filters I brought.
Minutes later, the air was noticeably fresher. Corpse smell filtered out. Replaced by faint oil smell and... food aroma.
Finally, the key step.
I dragged the black cases to B2 [Primary Production Workshop].
The [Universal Crafting Bench] stood silent.
"System, access external hardware."
[Precision mechanical components detected...][Matching model...][Compatibility: 98%][Initiate Integration Upgrade?]
"Yes!"
Click—Whirrr—
Mechanical arms extended from the bench. Grabbed the components. Assembly. Welding. Blue sparks flashed in the dark. Sci-fi beauty.
Ten minutes later.
[Upgrade Complete!][Primary Workshop → Intermediate Workshop][Blueprints Unlocked: Compound Bow Arrows, IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices), 9mm Ammo (Gunpowder required), Kevlar Repair.]
I looked at the shiny machine. Smiled maniacally.
Can't make guns yet. But I can make bullets. Arrows. Repair armor. Sustainable combat capability.
In a world where every bullet fired is gone forever, this production line was my money tree. My backbone.
"Now this is an Arms Dealer."
I touched the cold metal. Walked back to the hall.
Living room (Hall) full of supplies.
Wall of Spam. Rows of water jugs.
I grabbed a vacuum-sealed spiced chicken leg. Tore it open. Handed it to Shadow.
"Celebrate. Housewarming."
Shadow swallowed it whole. Bone and all. Licked. "Now this looks like a Lord. Not as comfy as the Reality kennel, but here..."
He looked up. Golden eyes shining.
"You are the only King."
I looked around. Pride filled my chest.
Slum to Mansion. Ruins to Fortress.
This is the joy of "Base Building."
But as we enjoyed the peace, Shadow's ears twitched.
He snapped his head toward the outer blast door (leading to the parking lot). Fur bristled. A low, dangerous growl I'd never heard before.
"Grrr... Grrr..."
Not a warning. An alarm.
"What is it?"
My heart tightened. drew the Tang Dao. "Zombies?"
"No."
Shadow turned. Cold light in his eyes. "Blood. Fresh blood. Human blood."
"Human?"
"And... gunpowder. And... a disgusting smell of betrayal." Shadow's voice was freezing. "People outside. Lots of them. They are hunting."
"Hunting zombies?"
"No." Shadow shook his head. "Hunting their own kind."
I froze. Face darkened.
Hunting humans.
In the apocalypse, those words meant the darkest depravity.
"Direction?"
"Near the garage exit. 500 meters." Shadow said. "Sounds messy. Screams. Laughter. They are enjoying the kill."
I was silent for two seconds.
"Close the door."
I pressed the button. Blast door sealed. Shutting out the danger.
"Whoever they are, as long as they don't mess with us..."
"They already did." Shadow interrupted. "Moving this way. If those mad dogs find this place, we'll never have peace."
How can I sleep when someone is snoring next to my bed?
If I don't deal with them, Sector C Shelter will be found. The supplies, the power... fatal temptation for any survivor.
"Looks like we need to meet the new neighbors."
I walked back to the car. Dragged a long, hard black case from the deep trunk.
My "Town-Guarding Treasure" acquired from the black market in Reality.
Opened the case.
On black foam, lay a menacing Compound Bow. And two dozen carbon fiber arrows. Custom tri-blade armor-piercing heads. Cold glint.
"Didn't want to use this so soon."
I picked up the bow. Drew the string.
Thrum!
Low, powerful vibration.
"Shadow," I looked at him. "Dare to go out with me?"
"Duh." Shadow bared his fangs. "Just ate chicken. Need exercise to digest. Besides..."
He licked his lips.
"I hate the smell on those people. The stench of bullies. Worse than zombies."