Chapter 13. Gallery (3)
I sat in the warehouse of car 2, unfolding the kids' drawings and letters before pinning them to the wall. Each one came from a different child—one from the kid who'd traded for water, the other from the one who'd gotten medicine. A black train with a stick figure standing on top. It didn't resemble my actual train or me at all, but for something sketched just from my nickname, it was impressively well done.
I'd originally planned to charge top dollar, but after reading notes like "I can't breathe" and such, how could I? For meds requested by the sick and suffering, I handed them over for free, feeling good about it. My pharmacy raid had left me with overflowing stocks anyway.
That was when it happened. A notification blinked in the top bar of my smartphone, glowing an unusual color. A whisper message had arrived.
"Huh? This feature exists?"
I hadn't realized the site had private messaging. Curiosity piqued, I opened the inbox.
"What a bunch of weirdos..."
The messages were all either outright threatening or dead serious. Most folks didn't think I was operating solo. They'd started questioning things after seeing the massive quantities I'd posted.
'Well, yeah—a typical survivor would struggle to fill even one backpack.'
I switched to the gallery search bar. Punching in my nickname pulled up scattered discussions speculating on my identity. Same story here: everyone assumed I belonged to some group. But after mulling it over, I realized this misunderstanding wasn't half bad.
'If they knew I was alone, it'd just invite more assholes looking for trouble.'
Pretending to have some shadowy backing would actually help. No point clearing it up.
"Yeah, go ahead and imagine whatever you want."
I sank into the sofa, gazing contentedly at the mid-grade mana stones and intel I'd earned from the exchange. Water and meds I'd practically given away, but everything else fetched a solid price. Cigarettes and booze especially—name your sum.
"Not bad at all."
Mana stones were great, but the real jackpot was the intel. Survivors traded vending machine spots, dungeon entrances, monster weak points—stuff like that. It was all stacking up nicely.
"Okay, inventory's sorted..."
I summoned the drones to haul the settled goods to the car 2 warehouse.
Incoming whisper.
Another whisper lit up my screen.
"Ugh, such a pain."
I went to dismiss it, but my finger froze. The icon wasn't from some random user.
[Signal]
"What...?"
Orange admin icon. The gallery's creator, the one who'd announced updates.
"Why's the admin messaging me?"
Puzzled, I opened it. The content blew past all my expectations.
"...What's this about?"
It felt like a smack to the back of the head. The gallery's owner was asking me for help. I replied, asking what was up.
"...Vampire or something?"
I propped my chin, reading on. Phenomenal skills came with matching penalties—that was the rule. I got it all too well from personal experience.
"That's a huge drawback."
Unable to operate in daylight was a killer flaw for survival.
They'd clearly scoped out my gear postings. They weren't ordinary stuff—special properties. And truthfully, the armory let me craft even better pieces. For the right materials, anyway. But I wasn't handing them out for nothing.
As I typed a reply, they preempted me with an offer.
"Credit exchange tickets...?"
"Whoa... talk about passive income."
Credits piling up just from sitting back? Nice gig.
'Kinda like me, huh? Mana stones and loot rolling in without lifting a finger.'
I shot back:
[Sure, let's trade.]
[Any weapon preferences?]
Standing before the armory, I waited. If they had a form in mind, I'd craft to spec.
Their reply came quick.
[Low strength, so nothing heavy. Quick and light—like a dagger, if possible.]
"Dagger's in the blueprints."
It needed iron, leather, or fiber. Armor too—same materials.
"Alright, settled."
Back at the cockpit, I unrolled the map. Needed leather or fiber, plus sturdy monster bits. Time for a dungeon run.
"Scout nearby dungeons—check monster types."
Drones fanned out, probing rifts one by one. Damn, dungeons had multiplied. Several dotted the tracks alone.
One drone entered a rift and signaled back. Peering at the feed: bugs.
"Spiders... ah."
I'd wondered why it flagged this one. Spider silk could sub for fiber, probably. But giant insects...
"Eugh..."
Not thrilled. Strength aside, that creepy bug skittering turned my stomach. Drones made it doable, though.
"Fine, locked in."
I wheeled the train to those coordinates.
Screeeeech—the train halted at a foreboding underground tunnel mouth. Sticky slime and webs cluttered the entrance.
I harvested some first, hauling it to the armory. It registered as material—just not enough volume yet.
"Clear the way ahead."
Gripping my toothed flail, I steeled myself. Drones could mop up trash mobs, but bosses needed me.
Step, step. Inside hit me with humid air and a fishy reek. A massive shadow writhed on the ceiling.
Thud!
"Gah!"
I jumped back, startled. A giant spider, head riddled with bullet holes, plummeted from its thread. Closer inspection revealed mana stones and near-vanished corpses tucked in corners. Drones had been busy.
Pressing on, I spotted drones battling monsters.
"Kieeeek!"
Three or four dropped from above—man-sized spiders.
Pfsh! Thunk!
Combat drones nailed their joints. As the spiders tumbled, writhing, I stepped up.
"Urgh!"
Crack!
I smashed their heads clean with the flail, advancing. Could've left it to drones, but the twitching creeped me out—I put them out of their misery fast.
Easy fight, fat rewards. Lowest-grade mana stones and fangs that looked like venom teeth.
"Sweet."
Ahead loomed a suspiciously spacious chamber. Entering, I glanced up instinctively. Remembering how the spiders debuted...
Kieeeek—!
A ear-splitting screech ripped the air as a house-sized shadow plunged from the dark. Tarantula-like, covered in bristles, with scythe fangs that could bisect a waist in one snap.
"Drones!"
I held my ground against the intimidation. Scary, sure—but I wasn't alone.
Whiiiine—!
Recon drone blasted a flash right in its face.
"Kiiek?!"
Blinded, it flailed front legs like washing its face. Combat drones hammered its knee joints.
Boom-boom—!
"Kkrik! Kiririk!"
Shells chewed the joints; those sturdy legs buckled. Before it recovered, I'd kicked off the ground, airborne.
I reared back the toothed flail.
"Raaagh!"
Nearly a scream as I swung down.
Crunch! Splat!
A dull thud echoed through the cave. My blow caved in its armored skull.
"Eugh..."
Exactly the scene I'd dreaded, hence the yell.
Thud!
Combat joined: under ten seconds. Drones pinned legs, I cracked skull. Simple. Effective.