Curious, Lucas Kane stepped up to the sidewalk vending machine and peered inside.
[This vending unit has ATM‑grade protection. Without cash, don't expect it to give you anything.]
"ATM‑grade? That serious?"
He raised a fist, tempted to test the casing.
Another prompt flashed.
[Warning: The vending unit has its own siren and is networked to nearby police and public broadcast systems. If I were you, I wouldn't do that.]
He lowered his hand. He'd just finished a nasty fight; calling another horde now would be stupid. And who knew how many more Crawlers might be lurking nearby?
He scanned the items behind the glass. Drinks. Self‑heating rice boxes—each with a small bottle of water included. Boxed instant noodles and ready‑to‑eat cold noodles. A surprisingly broad selection.
The prices were almost laughable.
Instant noodles: 0.5 yuan.Soft drinks: 0.1 yuan.The priciest self‑heating rice (with meat): 1.5 yuan.
"This world's consumer prices were low," he murmured.
He had more than a thousand in cash on him—no small amount here.
Lucas selected a self‑heating rice box and smoothed a wrinkled five‑yuan bill into the slot.
Ding.
A tray clacked open; the meal and a small bottle of purified water dropped neatly into place. He checked the label: Production date: June 15, 2012. Shelf life: 20 years.
"Figures." In this world, food shelf lives were absurdly long—ten, twenty years as a baseline.
He stored the meal, then bought an orange soda, cracked it open, and took several deep swigs.
"Sweet. Like Fanta."
A soft yip sounded at his feet.
Lupo had shrunk back to his compact, fluffy form. Eyes bright, the little wolf stared at the bottle, then up at Lucas, letting out a short, impatient bark.
Lucas poured the remainder into a plastic bag and set it down. Lupo didn't even sniff; total trust. One lick—eyes widened—then the cub slurped with gusto.
"Fine," Lucas chuckled. "Let's buy out the shelf."
He went to work, feeding bills, selecting rows. In short order, the entire machine stood empty.
Total haul (roughly 100 yuan):
20 bottles of soda
30 bottles of purified water
10 beef rice self‑heaters
10 fish‑flavor pork rice self‑heaters
10 vegetarian rice boxes
20 cups of instant noodles
10 packs of ready‑to‑eat mixed noodles
20 self‑heating hot pots
Likely because the machines sat curbside and were engulfed by zombies, they'd remained untouched—few locals had dared clear the area. Inside nearby shops, though, every cooler and vending unit had long been stripped bare.
With the street cleared, Lucas and Lupo crossed to the gas station. Lucas lifted a hand.
With a soft rush of displaced air, his heavy truck materialized beside the pumps.
He popped the cap, jammed the nozzle into the tank, and set it to auto‑fill. Fuel was currency in this world; with generators and the storage ring's vehicle slot, he could turn mobility into survival.
When the tank clicked full, he stowed the truck again and moved on.
The mall loomed a block away.
Inside the entrance, zombies milled—dozens at least. Lucas frowned. "So this is where they all went."
Maybe survivors inside had drawn them, and the building's ambient music masked the street noise. Either way, he had work to do.
"Let's get started."
He drew the Tang blade and surged forward. Lupo darted down a side aisle to flank. As an Awakener (Phase 1) running a dual‑talent build, Lucas carved through ordinary zombies like they were produce on a cutting board. Most never even got close.
With Lupo's assists, the lobby was cleared in minutes.
[Harvest complete. You acquired:]Energy Cores ×24 (+5 from Energy Evolution talent)Mutated Fertilizer ×140Clean Fabric ×60Cash ×827Mall Directory Map ×1Storage Ring Shards ×12Broken Baseball Bat ×1Chipped Kitchen Knife ×1…
The usual pile of oddities. He dumped the ruined junk, then unfolded the directory.
Basement (B1): Food court1F: Cosmetics & Mother/Infant2F: Apparel, Footwear & Children's Education3F: Fitness Gear & Bedding4F: Restaurants
Apparel and footwear would be useful—he burned through clothes daily. Zombie blood didn't wash out. Bedding and fitness gear were also worth a sweep.
Lucas paused at the Children's Education storefront. He didn't open it. He could sense survivors inside.
He didn't want the encounter. Strangers made things awkward; pleas for rescue were worse. Refusal led to resentment—or worse. He wasn't a murderer, and he wasn't building a caravan. Not today.
He moved to apparel.
With Master Tailoring, anything he'd harvested became craftable later. He stripped racks and mannequins, converting most items into Clean Fabric directly in the interface.
A lingerie boutique? Collected. Less fabric per item, but… an interesting array of styles to recycle.
A luxury suit shop? Collected. In the system, fabric was fabric; price tags meant nothing once the world ended.
He stepped into an outdoor outfitter and his eyes lit up—tents, sleeping bags, collapsible tables and chairs, searchlights, and field kits.
He tested a children's tent with the harvest command.
+50 Clean Fabric
"So tents convert, but I can't craft them back as tents yet," he noted, scanning his crafting list. "No tent blueprint."
Fine. He'd store the intact gear.
[Collected:]All‑weather Tents ×30Moistureproof Picnic Mats ×50Sleeping Bags ×25Field Lighting Units ×10BBQ Kits ×10Field Medical Kits ×20Night‑Vision Goggles ×5100× Zoom Binoculars ×5Fishing Rods ×20…
The 48‑slot ring felt decadent. Even after today's haul and earlier loot, he'd only filled about three‑quarters. Twelve open slots remained—more than many survivors' entire storage.
When the second floor was thoroughly stripped, he took the escalator toward 3F.
A thick, metallic tang of blood intensified with each step.
A familiar rasping trill echoed ahead.
Crawlers.
Lucas stepped onto the third floor and instantly pivoted, blade already arcing.
Shhk!
The airborne Crawler split cleanly in two before its sonic shriek could form. Its hideous face still wore that ambiguous near‑smile as the halves slapped wetly onto the tiles.
Another rasp. Then another.
He lifted his shield and scanned.
Across the corridor—floor, wall, and ceiling—three more Crawlers crawled aimlessly, gouging at the ceiling panels and showering debris.
Behind him, something else stood in profile—a female zombie with matted hair, nearly two meters tall. Her skin was a sickly sea‑green, and her belly bulged grotesquely. Something writhed beneath the skin, rolling and skittering as if trying to escape.
A prompt flashed.
[Mutant Type II – Venom Broodmother]Capabilities: Spits highly corrosive acid; incubates crawling spawn coated in corrosive fluid.Advice: If I were you, I'd stay well away.
Lucas drew a sharp breath.
Four Mutant Type IIs in one area—and a new subspecies on top of that. Not part of the plan.
Reckless fights weren't his style. He crouched beside the escalator landing and studied the terrain.
Luck for once: just down the hall sat the fitness center—the map's mark for a Level‑2 Supply Crate.
He reminded himself why he'd come: not for thrills, but for power and resources. If he could ghost in, grab the crate, and ghost out without alerting the mutants—that was the ideal outcome.
He tapped Lupo's flank. The wolf shrank instantly to cub size.
Smaller targets stayed unnoticed longer.
Holding his breath, Lucas slipped toward the gym's glass doors and reached for the handle.
Another prompt popped up.
[See the wind chime above the door? Want to guess whether zombies enjoy pleasant chimes?]
Lucas froze, eyes lifting to the delicate ornament dangling from the header—pretty, polished shells that would tinkle at the slightest touch.
He withdrew his hand.
Time to rethink the entry. The simplest mistakes were the deadliest ones.
He crouched, scanning for an alternate route—side service door, ceiling vent, or a way to dampen or remove the chime without noise. One wrong sound, and the trio of Crawlers plus a Venom Broodmother would turn this quiet floor into a killing ground.
He exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he whispered. "We do this the quiet way."
He began to plan.