Lucas gave the freezer one final inspection before leaving—and found an unexpected surprise.
A full box of ice cream bars. Twenty of them, perfectly sealed.
Not exactly dinner, he thought, but they're packed with sugar. Could work as emergency energy.
He stored the entire box in his spatial ring.
From the kitchen, he took only one bottle of soy sauce—it was all he needed for now—and swept up every usable knife: cleavers, paring knives, even a fruit peeler.
Then he returned to the bedroom closet.
As expected, the clothes inside were tagged as collectible.
[Ding! You have collected: Clean Cloth ×120]
Lucas smiled. He wasn't just scavenging—he was investing.
Leaving the apartment, he didn't bother locking the door. Instead, he made his way quietly up the stairs.
Every apartment he passed had its door firmly sealed. From behind them, faint zombie groans echoed—along with the occasional shriek of claws scraping steel.
In the stairwell, two zombies lurked.
They didn't last long.
[You collected: Energy Core ×2, Mutated Fertilizer ×5, Aquarian Credits: 173]
Eventually, Lucas reached the top floor.
Apartment 502.
He stood before the door and exhaled deeply. One last check.
Instead of unlocking it immediately, he pounded on the door.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The noise thundered through the stairwell.
"...Rhhh...ghhh..."
A low groan came from the neighboring unit—Apartment 501.
Lucas pressed his ear to 502.
Silence.
He inserted the key and turned.
The lock clicked, and he slipped inside, closing the heavy door behind him with a solid thud.
The hallway's zombie noises vanished. The room was soundproofed far better than expected.
He stood motionless for a full minute, then deliberately knocked over a chair. No response.
Lucas searched the entire unit, checking closets, under beds, behind curtains. Only after confirming there were no hidden threats did he finally relax and sink onto the living room couch.
In the apocalypse, safety isn't peace—it's a brief pause in chaos.
His body was fine. But his mind?
Tired. Worn.
Ten minutes passed. Slowly, the fog lifted. Lucas began taking stock of his new shelter.
It was clearly a family home. A wedding photo hung above the bed, and a crib sat in a side room—unused but lovingly kept. The place was spotless. No blood. No mess. A faint floral scent lingered in the air.
This'll do.
He unpacked.
Soy sauce in the kitchen. Ice cream and frozen meat into the freezer to save space in his ring.
Current inventory:
Luncheon Meat
Purified Water ×2
Canned Beer ×2
Mutated Fertilizer ×50
Clean Cloth ×125
Riot Shield
Reinforced Helmet
Fire Axe
Kitchen Knives ×2
Fruit Knife ×1
Ten slots. If he included the ice cream and meat again, he'd hit his limit.
And that wasn't counting the little things: lighters, cash, keys.
This storage ring... just twelve slots. It's not enough.
In this world, everything was harvestable. Everything had a use.
If I could just expand the ring...
With a sigh, he opened the chat interface.
"Anyone got water? I just sprinted from a horde and I'm dying of thirst."
"Is anyone near Saintlin Hospital?! I'm trapped on the 5th floor in the doctor's office. If you rescue me, I'll be yours~ 😉"
"Just killed a zombie and got an Energy Core. Looking to trade for food or water. No beggars."
"Damn, you actually killed one? Respect."
"All I got was fertilizer. Useless garbage!"
"I've got nothing. I can't fight. I just run."
Then came a different voice—calmer. More serious.
"Everyone—listen. Let's form a survivor camp. We need to work together."
The speaker's name blinked in the feed: Ethan Cole
His profile showed a young man, glasses, university sweatshirt—an academic type.
"Message me privately. I think we're in the same regional channel, so we must be close. If we gather our strength and share our resources, we'll stand a chance."
"Alone, we'll die. Together, we survive."
Lucas leaned back, unimpressed.
Nice dream. But bad strategy.
People with power didn't drag along dead weight. Anyone with real strength would avoid that kind of group.
The desperate would gather. The weak. The slow. The unarmed.
Best-case scenario? They survive a few extra days.
Worst-case?
They attract attention—and get slaughtered.
And Ethan's plan had a bigger flaw.
He's asking everyone to share their location.
In a world where desperation ruled, you never knew if the person knocking on your door was a savior—or a scavenger.
Even Ethan Cole himself might be a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Never trust blindly.
Lucas ignored the call for unity.
Then the chat lit up again.
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Purified Water – 500ml]
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Purified Water – 500ml]
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Purified Water – 500ml]
Dozens of alerts.
Victor Cross had just flooded the trading channel with twenty bottles of purified water.
And he wasn't done.
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Sealed Sausage]
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Sealed Sausage]
Ding! Victor Cross has listed: [Sealed Sausage]
Again—over twenty in a row.
"Where the hell is he getting all this?"
"Warehouse? Military stockpile?"
"Victor, bro, sell me one! I'll pay triple!"
"This guy's rich. In apocalypse terms."
Lucas smirked.
Let the others drool over digital sausages.
He'd stick to his quiet corner of the world—and keep growing stronger.