What the Hell Kind of God Is This? (2)
"Buuurp, cough. Gulp, ugh, slurp. Urrgh. Gulp."
I made—and heard—the realistic sounds of downing twenty raw eggs. If Grandfather had seen me wolfing them down straight from the bowl after seventy hours of starvation, with no way to cook them, he'd have asked if I'd started a YouTube channel. "Poooh... grrrk." Even my burp was sticky. Ugh... I can't live like this. But hey, at least I'm alive. Ah... maybe twenty eggs after seventy hours starving was a bit much, but I was that hungry. Right now, I had no energy anyway. Might as well play a board game to digest, then crash when I get sleepy.
Personally speaking, if a zombie apocalypse hits and the power goes out, the real problem isn't the phone dying—it's the boredom that'll kill me. Of course, in peaceful times with electricity flowing, there's no reason to think that way, but damn. I never imagined a zombie apocalypse would actually happen until it did. Nothing ever happens until it does, right?
Anyway, my hobby isn't PC games—it's board games. So I scrimped from my part-time job, buying card games and board games one by one until my bookshelf had fifty boxes crammed in one corner. In an apocalypse with no power, these are my daily mental bread. Hell, I even thought, if I'm gonna die trapped in my house, might as well go out playing board games. Case closed.
I pulled out a horror-themed card game box, snapped it open, shuffled the player deck with a satisfying shff shff, and laid out the mission cards. Suddenly, it hit me. Hm... Does anyone else have these? These games are way more fun with other people. Has the whole world turned into zombies? Back when things were peaceful, there were people everywhere. Even stuck at home, I could chat online, jump into an MMO, party up with randos—not super close friends, but we'd play, compete, laugh, argue. Never felt lonely. But now, in this zombie apocalypse with no lights on, my living room feels like I'm stranded alone in the mountains.
Still, the game's fun. I love this shit. This puzzle's a tough one, though? Hm... Is it really just me? Has everyone really turned into zombies? Tick. Only the sound of cards hitting the table breaks the silence.
* * *
I slept a ton. Whoa, already 2 p.m.? Like fifteen, sixteen hours? Felt like it. I'd been sleep-deprived from fitful dozing while starving, but after gorging on eggs and crashing in a food coma, here I was. I'd filled every container with water from the purifier—side dish tubs, rice cooker, pots, anything that could hold liquid. Enough for a shower and a full day's drinking. The relief is indescribable.
Yeah, we're calling it a purifier. "Essence of Life" sounds too fantasy. Having fantasy shit in my apartment is weird enough.
I squirted body wash on a washcloth, soaked it in water, lathered up, and for the first time in forever—blissfully—scrubbed the shit-stink off my body. Rinsed off with a cool splash, and boom: human again. Fucking ecstatic. Ah, gotta wash the musty blankets and stuff from last winter and chilly spring too. Thinking that in a zombie apocalypse? Lucky me.
Anyway. To make that happen, I need to head out, farm some coins. Grab those snack bags outside too. No one's taking them anyway. Unless some mutant zombie shows up thrilled to munch chips.
* * *
Snacks acquired. Right there by the door where the delivery guy always drops packages—four bags. I despawned my avatar. Mage sweep got 132 zombies, warrior nabbed 22. Total 154 coins. Plus yesterday's 37? 191 coins! Fuck yeah. Time to level up.
Zombies out front were all sand piles now. Snatched the bags without much tension. The peeking-through-the-crack-before-opening bullshit? No one saw, so it doesn't count.
Crunchy snacks calling my name. Salty, sweet—love 'em both. But right now, chocolate pies, cookies. That solid lump sliding down your throat? God, I missed it. Crunchies taste great but lack that satisfying bulk.
"Ah...!" Bit into a pie, swallowed, and sighed without thinking. Six months into the zombie apocalypse. Power out a week. Food gone three days ago. Rationed hard to last this long—no snacks since day one. Six months! Wanna share this joy, but no one's here.
"Mmm...!" Alone. No one around. Probably all zombies now. But damn, mood's lifting. Ah, fuck. So good.
* * *
Level-up time. 191 coins, but only one level per hero. Nephaquet (egg guy) needs 200 now after last time, so pick from the other three: builder, warrior, or mage?
Builder's low priority. Food's right here—four bags—and the purifier's done. Toss in coins, get 24 hours of flowing water. Starvation taught me: food first. Need to raid the convenience store, mart, anywhere with long-shelf-life stuff for variety. Eggs? Yeah, I know. But can't live on eggs forever, fuck! I want tasty shit too! Loyalty to the Book of Ruin for the eggs, but that's that.
To make foraging easier: warrior or mage? Warrior's fast to destinations; mage farms packs. Leveling Nephaquet showed new skills come with levels. So... hm. Warrior it is. Mage's Sand Path is OP for sweeps already. But slow as hell. Better: warrior drops bags at entrance, mage herds and wipes. Someone else might disagree—level mage for better AoE, farm faster, level quicker, meta. Sorry. I'm the god here. Trusting my call.
Beat an imaginary argument, smugly satisfied. Leveled up.
Would you like to level up Nephkent?
"Yes."
100 coins used.
Nephkent's level has risen.
New skill acquired.
Heh. Satisfied. "Kepher Nephkent." Watching the sand vortex on my forearm shape into a human form? Addictive as hell. Eye contact: Yeah, I'm an ancient warrior. Total chuuni vibes, but real. Check those muscles I lack. Leveled up—time to inspect. Left arm stats.
...Shit. HP doubled? Wow, one level's a big jump? Now, skills.
Ma'at's Rest 𓄿 𓃣 𓊵
This... staring at it, usage floods my mind—not instructions, but visions like shattered earth rumbling back together. What the... hallucination? Premonition? Ah. Got it. Healing. This is a heal skill! Gotta test. Food's plentiful now!
Stabbed my shoulder with the spear. Chunks of sand poured off, clattering on the floor before despawning. HP tanked. Spear's made of what, to chunk 5 HP? Impressive—turns zombies to sand in one hit. Of course, fuck, knew it wouldn't hurt but still flinched. Only I know, so invalid.
"Ma'at's Rest." Shield arm, spear hand—faint glow. Ooh, fuck. Touched shoulder: sand rushed in, healed. Even the torn skin cover reformed. HP back to 44, MP down 1.
"Ooh, fuck!" Know what this means? Full HP recovery means I can farm forever! Wow, fuck! "Uahaha!" So damn happy. Alright, let's go! Convenience store again! Beverages this time! Snacks are plenty—no one's taking 'em, they're waiting for me!
* * *
Sprinted like hell to the store. Too hyped, speared parking lot zombies like crazy. Road to store: more stabs. Used heal once. MP at 1, but damn. Full HP again? Too good.
"Haha. Best!" Laughing, entered the store. People inside. Two women. Matted hair like unwashed for five years, crusty faces. Early twenties? Huddled crying, spotted me, screamed. One brandished a knife.
"........"
We froze, staring. ...Confusing. Probably: Me thinking, Why are there people? Why not zombies? Them thinking, Why's a naked dude in a loincloth, holding shield and spear, wearing a dog mask? We gawked in mutual stupor.