Sector C Shelter. Level B2.
This used to be an abandoned mechanic shop, filled with rusty parts and grease. But after the System unlocked [Intermediate Production Workshop] and integrated the CNC components I brought from Reality, it had become a personal arsenal of industrial beauty.
Whirrr—Click—Whirrr—
The upgraded [Universal Crafting Bench] was running at full power. Mechanical arms danced. Blue laser welding sparks flashed in the dark.
I wore goggles, holding industrial wire strippers, processing a complex mess of wiring. At my feet, a pile of "Strategic Materials" from the Land Rover: high-capacity capacitors, high-voltage packs, copper coils, and car batteries scavenged from the lot.
"Is the stuff ready?"
I asked without looking back, hands busy.
"Coming out." Shadow squatted by the bench, staring at the output slot like watching a roast chicken in a microwave. "But it looks... dangerous. Smells like static electricity. Making my fur stand up."
Buzz—
Green light on. Conveyor belt pushed out a disk-shaped metal device.
Size of a Roomba. Pitch black. Surface covered in honeycomb metal mesh. Center flashing with a dangerous blue arc indicator.
I picked it up. System description floated:
[High-Voltage Shock Trap (Modified)]
Type: Trigger Mine / Area Trap
Damage: Instant release of 3000~5000 Volts high-voltage pulse.
Range: Radius 1.5m (Doubles in wet environment).
Effect: Paralysis, Burns, Devastating Neural Shock to biological targets.
Note: Enhanced with Reality high-performance capacitors. Recharge speed +50%, Lethality +30%.
"Fifth one."
I weighed it. Heavy. Solid.
Consumed a lot of electronics from Reality, but this was a godly trolling tool. Step on it, zombie or human, instant toast.
"Can this deal with Awakened ones?"
Quinn's voice came from the door.
She had changed into clean camo fatigues (from my stock). A bit loose, but couldn't hide her capable vibe. Wounds treated, stomach full, color returned to her face. Limp was slight. Weakness gone.
She looked at the "disk" in my hand doubtfully. In her mind, monsters like Black Shark needed heavy machine guns or explosives.
"That Black Shark you mentioned, what's his ability?" I put down the trap, turning around.
"Strength Enhancement, and... [Stone Skin]."
Quinn walked to the table, grabbed a paper, drew a rough human outline.
"When he activates it, his skin turns grey-white like rock. Extremely hard. Immense strength. Normal machetes curl on impact. Homemade shotgun pellets tickle him. I saw him rip a D-Rank Variant's head off while ignoring zombie bites."
She paused. Fear in her eyes. "He's a tank. And a meat grinder."
"High Physical Defense, huh?" I rubbed my chin. Smirked. "What about Magical Defense?"
"Magic?" Quinn blinked. "You mean Abilities?"
"Close enough."
I pointed at the shock trap. "Rock is an insulator. The human body isn't. As long as he hasn't turned into actual stone, as long as he breathes and sweats, electricity will bypass his defense and cook his organs."
I looked at Quinn. Tone calm but chilling.
"This is Science. In the face of Physics, his [Stone Skin] is just a resistor with poor conductivity. It'll only make him heat up faster."
Quinn looked at the blinking blue trap. Imagined Black Shark twitching in the current. Shuddered. Suddenly felt this "Boss" was scarier than Black Shark.
"Boss, what... did you do before?" She couldn't help asking.
"Me?" I picked up a screwdriver, assembling the next one. "Corporate drone laid off. Part-time delivery guy."
Quinn: "..."
Ghosts wouldn't believe that. Which delivery guy builds high-voltage mines?
"Alright, enough chatter."
I clapped my hands. Lined up the five traps. "Besides these, I prepared some 'Traditional Arts'."
I pointed to the corner: Tripwires, caltrops, and homemade Molotov cocktails (bottles + gasoline).
"Black Shark. What's his personality?" I asked.
"Greedy. Arrogant. And... paranoid." Quinn analyzed. "The two runaways told him about the supplies, the car, and Tanaka's death. He will come. But he won't rush in brainlessly."
"He'll send cannon fodder first."
"Correct." Quinn nodded, eyes pained. "He has 'Slave Soldiers'—captured survivors used for mine sweeping."
"So, we prepare a layered 'Banquet' for him."
I opened the 3D map of the shelter. Traced the layout.
"Sector C has one entrance. The long underground ramp. A natural 'Choke Point'. Our 'Killing Corridor'."
I circled the middle of the ramp.
"Here. Narrowest point. Floor has standing water (leaked from the last storm, I left it intentionally)."
"I'll bury the five shock traps under the water. Link them into a 'Thunder Pool'."
"Then," I pointed to vents and maintenance hatches on the sides. "Here, here, and here. Rig Molotov triggers."
"Once they enter the Thunder Pool and get paralyzed, fire drops. Shock plus Roast. Even Iron Man would peel a layer of skin."
"As for the cannon fodder..." I paused. Looked at Quinn. "We let them pass."
"Let them pass?"
"Yes. If the traps trigger on fodder, Black Shark won't come in." I said coldly. "We let the fodder pass safely. Give Black Shark the illusion that 'this place is undefended.' When the big fish enters the net, we pull it."
Quinn was stunned.
This wasn't defense. This was a meticulously designed Empty Fort Strategy.
"Then... what do we do?" She asked.
"Us?"
I looked at Shadow, who was listening intently.
"We 'Close the Door and Beat the Dog'."
Next few hours.
Sector C went into high alert.
Me, Quinn, and Shadow worked frantically. Digging, burying, wiring, camouflaging.
Quinn proved her worth as a Captain. Expert at camouflage. She used dust, gravel, and trash to hide the triggers perfectly. Even threw empty cans around to distract attention.
"Boss, this spot is evil." Quinn dusted her hands, looking at a tripwire in a blind spot. "Anyone looking at the cans will turn their head and trip it."
"Psychological warfare." I handed her water. "Here. For you."
I pulled a tactical dagger from my belt. "Your sword is dull. Use this. From today on, you aren't bait. You're a hunter."
Quinn took the dagger. Gripped it. Eyes red. "Thanks."
Ready.
Back in the control room. Sat in the chair. Staring at the radar screen.
Time ticked.
4:00 PM.
Sunlight dim, but visibility okay.
"Here."
Shadow stood up on the console. Ears pricked. Low growl.
On the edge of the screen, a mass of red dots swarmed out of the dark zone.
[WARNING: Mass Hostile Targets Approaching] [Count: 48] [Vehicles: Modified Pickup x2, Motorcycle x8, Bus x1] [Distance: 900m]
"Forty-eight people." I watched the dots. "Black Shark thinks highly of us. Almost his whole crew."
"Moving EXP packs." Shadow licked his lips. Predator light in his eyes.
...
Outside the shelter. Dust kicked up on the ruined street.
Black Shark's convoy arrived. Leading was the modified pickup with a welded ram, hung with dried zombie skeletons.
Inside, a burly man with a face full of transverse flesh smoked a cigarette, playing with a Type 92 pistol.
Black Shark. The local emperor of the subway station area.
"Tanaka is dead. Those two useless trash said it was one man and a dog?"
Black Shark blew smoke rings. Voice gritty. Eyes dangerous. "One man wiped out Tanaka's squad? And has luxury cars and tons of supplies?"
"Boss, those kids were scared witless. Said the guy knows sorcery. The dog eats people." A henchman whispered.
"Sorcery? Hmph. Probably an Awakened." Black Shark sneered. Flicked the butt away. "But mess with Black Shark, even a god loses skin. Order the bus forward."
The convoy stopped 200 meters from the entrance.
Black Shark took off his sunglasses. Looked at the dark maw of the garage with snake-like eyes.
"Too quiet."
He waved his hand.
The bus doors opened. A dozen ragged, numb-faced survivors were herded out. Holding sticks or rusty metal. Shivering under gunpoint from behind.
The "Cannon Fodder Squad."
"You. Go scout."
Black Shark pointed at the entrance. "Whoever drives that car out gets a box of meat. Anyone retreats..."
BANG!
He fired a shot into the air. The boom made their legs weak.
"That's the result."
Under threat of death and lure of food, the dozen fodder walked into the beast's mouth.
Deep inside. At the monitor.
I watched this with cold eyes.
"Animals."
I pressed the comms. "Quinn, ready?"
"Standby." Quinn's voice in the earpiece. She was ambushing above the ventilation ducts.
"Don't attack. Let the fodder in." I commanded calmly. "Stick to the plan. Only when Black Shark enters is the net worth pulling."
I watched the fodder walk gingerly on the screen.
Walking on wet ground. Right over my high-voltage traps.
One button press, and they'd be charcoal.
But I didn't press.
I need Black Shark to believe it's safe. I'll use the shelter's supplies as the ultimate bait to hook his greed.
"Come on, Black Shark."
I watched the bald man with binoculars on the screen. Smiled a Reaper's smile.
"Welcome to my territory."