Chapter 10 – Store
With a long breath, Zane leaned back against the base of the tree, its bark cool against his spine. Sweat still clung to his skin, his limbs sore from training, but his mind was sharp now—sharper than it had been before. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, then flicked open the glowing system menu hovering in his vision.
"Alright… let's see what you're hiding," he muttered as he selected the "Store" option.
The moment he tapped it, a massive panel materialized in front of him, floating silently in the air. His eyes widened slightly.
"…Damn. That's… huge."
This was easily the largest interface he'd seen so far—by a long shot. The layout was sleek, almost too clean, like something out of a high-budget sci-fi game. At the top of the interface was a search bar and a filter toggle, and in the top-right corner, his point total blinked in soft blue text.
[Points Available: 100]
To the left ran a long sidebar, neatly categorized: Weapons, Armor, Elixirs, Food, Clothing, Household, Miscellaneous.
Zane's brow arched as he scanned through it.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" he murmured, rubbing his chin. "It really sells everything."
It was more than a general store. It was a digital black market, a megastore, and an armory all rolled into one. You could outfit an army or buy a can of bug spray—whichever suited your needs. The deeper he scrolled, the more absurd it got. Tent kits, grooming supplies, canned food, old-school cassette tapes. It was as if the store's inventory reached into every corner of the world and pulled whatever it liked.
'So the system wants me to rely on this a lot,' he thought, lips tightening slightly. 'It's not just an accessory—it's a core mechanic.'
After browsing for a moment longer, Zane scrolled back up and tapped on the category that had caught his attention the most.
Weapons.
The list expanded instantly—and violently. A flood of images and categories sprang to life before him: pistols, rifles, shotguns, energy weapons, blades, staves, throwing stars, bows, even weapons he hadn't seen outside of fiction—like scythes and dual chakrams.
"…Holy hell," he breathed. "What is this? The fantasy aisle at an apocalypse-themed Walmart?"
There were modern weapons, ancient ones, and things that looked like they belonged in a goddamn space opera. His thumb hovered over a miniaturized short sword, then switched to a katana before settling on a standard iron sword.
Curious, he tapped it.
The sword spun in a slow, high-resolution 3D model, and a detailed description popped up beside it.
[Item: Iron Sword]
Type: Weapon
Rarity: Basic
Mutations: None
Description: A completely normal iron sword with no special abilities. Effective against normal humans. Not recommended for combat against mutants or enhanced targets.
Price: 5 Store Points
Even the system didn't try to make it sound interesting.
"Huh. It's like it's warning me not to bother," Zane muttered, chuckling under his breath. "Five points for a glorified butter knife."
He swiped the panel aside and began checking other swords. Most were equally mundane—bronze, steel, long, short, curved, serrated—but all shared one common trait: mediocrity. No unique abilities. No enhancements. Just plain, low-tier metal.
Zane frowned, then opened the filter tab at the top.
The options expanded again, revealing a complex sorting interface. He could filter by weapon type, size, damage class, handling, weight, cost, and most importantly—rarity.
"Now we're talking…" he murmured.
There were five main rarity levels:
Basic
Rare
Epic
Legendary
???
The last one was locked, represented only by a black silhouette and question marks.
"That's new…" he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Figures. Gotta keep something mysterious."
He tapped on "Rare" and hit search.
The results?
A wall of greyed-out items. Each weapon slot was darkened and locked, showing only a vague silhouette of what lay beyond.
Across the top of each icon was the same restriction:
[Unlocks at Level 5]
"Of course," Zane muttered, crossing his arms. "They dangle the good stuff in front of you, then pull the curtain. Smart."
Still, he wasn't mad. Not really. If anything, he respected the system's restraint. It was powerful—insanely so—but not irresponsible. It gave a taste of the possibilities without handing everything over at once. That kept Zane curious for a longer time.
"The system's generous," he said aloud, "but it's not stupid. It's not just going to let me buy a rocket launcher or a space-laser gun at level one."
He sighed and closed the weapon panel, leaning his head back against the tree once more. His muscles still ached from earlier, but the rush of the Store's offerings had momentarily distracted him from the pain.
His thoughts drifted for a moment—back to when he used to be part of the organization. Back then, weapons weren't bought. They were assigned. Everything he used came from someone else's hand, from someone else's command. Even the bullets he used were counted and noted in case it was needed. A wasteful bullet was not an option, and it caused many of his peers to face a rather dark fate for those mistakes.
But now?
Now he could choose. Now he could build his own arsenal, pace his own growth. Hell, he can at least have something without it being heavily monitored like a ticking bomb.
"…Strange feeling," he muttered. "Having control."
The weight of it was unfamiliar. Not unwelcome, just… different.
He opened the food and miscellaneous sections briefly, curious to see what else the store offered. Sure enough, he found daily essentials—food, soap, toothpaste, even some instant coffee brands he vaguely recognized.
"Guess I could use this to stock the apartment," he said to himself, lips quirking into a faint smile. "Though… I probably shouldn't burn points on food."
His fingers hovered over a can of instant stew, then pulled back.
"Not until I know how to earn these consistently. Could be dangerous to waste them."
For now, hoarding seemed wiser than spending. If he can keep collecting these points, he could have more freedom to buy stuff when needed.
Zane stood up slowly, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. The soreness from training was still there—a dull, pulsing throb in his chest and triceps—but at least he could move now without collapsing.
He glanced up at the sky. The sun was starting to dip, casting long shadows across the grass.
"I've got two options," he murmured, half-thinking aloud. "I can call it a day and go home, rest and then go out to explore this school the girl talked about."
His thoughts turned to the middle school that strange girl had mentioned the day before—the one she insisted he should attend.
"Or I can continue training now like a maniac."
He rubbed his chin, considering. His body was fatigued, and he wasn't sure if more training would be productive today. This wasn't his old body. It was still adapting, still fragile. Overexertion now could mean days of recovery later.
"No point rushing," he admitted. "Pace it right or I'll just end up breaking something."
He knew how this worked. The old him could've pushed through pain, through exhaustion, and still operated at lethal efficiency. But this new body? It required balance, patience, and restraint—three things Zane had never been particularly fond of.
Still, he was learning. Slowly.
"Alright," he said, letting out a breath. "Let's go check that school. If I'm gonna blend in here, I need to start playing the part."
And with that, he turned away from the field, the store panel fading from view as he made his way back toward the city.
There would be time for more training later. For now, he had a new environment to scout—and possibly a new identity to build.