Chapter 3 Food

Words : 1660 Updated : Sep 9th, 2025

Ethan decided to close the supermarket, let all the employees go, and take down the store's sign.For the next few days, his job was to receive deliveries. He contacted major suppliers, slaughterhouses, and farm owners, and soon, trucks were arriving one after another, dropping off supplies. Most of the deliveries were raw meat, but there were also some everyday cleaning products and household items. To Ethan, these supplies were more important than food. "Mr. Cole, your delivery's here." A few UPS drivers started unloading boxes into the supermarket. Before long, a small mountain of cardboard boxes had formed. These boxes were heavy because they contained weapons Ethan had ordered on the dark web—600 compound bows, 700 crossbows, and thousands of knives, machetes, and other blades. In the early days of the apocalypse, these weapons would be incredibly effective. Sure, Ethan was about to turn into a zombie, but as a zombie with ambition, using weapons didn't seem too unreasonable, right? Time flew by, and before he knew it, the day before the apocalypse game had arrived. Ethan had nearly spent his entire $100 million budget, but since he had only paid deposits, his purchasing power far exceeded that amount. He had practically cornered the market, clearing out the inventories of several major suppliers. It was now evening, and the last rays of the setting sun streamed into the empty supermarket. All the shelves had been cleared, and Ethan had stored all the supplies in his spatial storage ring. Tomorrow morning, the apocalypse game would officially begin, and Ethan was ready to stop being human. Still, he picked up a mop and cleaned the supermarket until it was spotless. Keeping things clean had become a habit for him. Sёarᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ethan stood by the window, looking out at the street. The road was still busy with cars, their headlights flickering in the evening rush hour. People hurried along, eager to get home. Elementary school kids, guided by a crossing guard, lined up to cross the street, their backpacks bouncing with each step. They laughed and chatted as they walked, their voices filled with joy. Parents stood nearby, smiling warmly and waving to their waiting children. Everything seemed normal, just an ordinary evening. But Ethan knew that by tomorrow, all of this would be gone. At this moment, he felt an unusual calm, savoring the last bit of peace. Suddenly, the metal shutter made a screeching sound as someone violently pulled it up from the outside. The sunset light spilled in, revealing three figures. "Hey boss, I'm starving. How about giving me something to eat?" The leader, a young man with fiery red hair, spoke with a cocky tone. He was a local troublemaker, always hanging around to mooch food and drinks. Shop owners hated dealing with guys like him. They'd show up every few days, causing trouble and driving away customers, so most business owners would just give them something to avoid a scene. Ethan didn't even bother to look up. He replied flatly, "The store's closed. I've got nothing for you." "What?" The punks looked around at the empty shelves, clearly surprised. Just a few days ago, the supermarket had been stocking up like crazy. How could it suddenly be out of business? "The store's really closed? So… does that mean we won't see that cute warehouse girl anymore?" one of the lackeys asked, scratching his head in disappointment. "Yo, Red, what do we do now?" another lackey whispered, clearly unsure of what to do next. The red-haired leader sized Ethan up, a sly grin forming on his face. "Boss, even if your store's closed, you can't just let us starve, right? How about lending us some cash so we can grab a bite?" Ethan didn't want these punks ruining his last bit of peace, so he casually pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and tossed it in front of them. The stack was easily over a thousand dollars. To someone about to turn into a zombie, money was no different from scrap paper. "Holy crap!" The red-haired guy's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected Ethan to be so generous. He figured Ethan was scared of him, which is why he handed over so much money. "You're not too bad, man. You know how to play the game." The two lackeys were just as excited, feeling like they were really making it big by hanging out with the red-haired guy. On this street, they could walk into any store and the owner would hand over cash. This was exactly what they were in it for. "Red! We've got it made." "Yeah, stick with the boss, and we'll never have to worry about food or drinks again." "Hahaha…" The red-haired guy waved his hand, signaling his crew to leave with him. The red-haired guy laughed smugly, but maybe he laughed a little too hard, because a small bug flew straight into his mouth. "Ptooey!" He coughed violently and spat out a thick glob of phlegm, which landed right on the floor Ethan had just cleaned until it was spotless. He glanced at the sticky mess on the floor, completely unconcerned, as if it were no big deal. "Hold on." Ethan's voice suddenly broke the silence in the supermarket. The red-haired guy and his two lackeys stopped in their tracks, turning around to look at Ethan with puzzled expressions. "What's up? You got something else to say?" The redhead raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with impatience. Ethan's cold gaze fell on the spit, his voice calm but carrying a chilling edge. "The floor's dirty." He began walking toward the red-haired guy, his steps steady, his eyes filled with a cold, unsettling intensity. The redhead froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I just spit on the floor, man. You're really gonna get worked up over that?" His two lackeys joined in, crossing their arms and smirking at Ethan, clearly not taking him seriously. After all, when they had asked for money earlier, Ethan had handed it over without hesitation. Why would he suddenly get mad over something so trivial? But the laughter stopped abruptly in the next second. A flash of cold steel appeared in Ethan's hand, and in one swift motion, a sharp hunting knife sliced through the air, heading straight for the redhead's neck. Thwack! The blade cut cleanly, and the red-haired guy's head dropped to the floor with a dull thud. His eyes were wide open, still frozen in that smug grin, but now twisted and stiff. His mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, but only blood gushed from his severed throat. Thud! His body collapsed heavily to the ground, blood quickly pooling across the floor. He never understood, even in his final moments, why Ethan had suddenly killed him so ruthlessly. The two remaining lackeys were completely paralyzed with fear. Their "Red," the guy they had always looked up to, had been decapitated in an instant! "Oh my god, oh my god—what the hell?!" one of them stammered, his voice trembling, his face pale as a sheet, his legs shaking uncontrollably. They were just small-time street punks, used to bullying the weak. They had never seen anything this brutal before. The only thought in their minds now was to run for their lives. Ethan's expression remained cold, as if what had just happened was nothing more than a trivial matter. His eyes showed no emotion, as if killing was just another routine task for him. "P-please don't kill me! I'm sorry!" one of the lackeys stammered, dropping to his knees, his voice thick with terror. "Y-yeah! We won't say a word, just let us go!" the other one quickly chimed in, his eyes filled with desperate pleading. Ethan smiled faintly, a small, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth. "Go ahead. I won't kill you." Hearing this, the two punks felt like they had been granted a pardon from death. They scrambled to their feet and bolted for the exit, stumbling over each other in their rush to escape, terrified that if they moved too slowly, they'd lose their lives. But they had barely made it a few steps when Ethan calmly raised a crossbow, already loaded and aimed at the back of one of their heads. Thwip! An arrow whizzed through the air, striking the lackey square in the back of the skull, pinning him to the ground instantly. "Aah!" The remaining lackey turned around in horror, seeing his friend's body crumple to the floor, an arrow sticking out of the back of his head, blood pouring out. His face turned ghostly white, and his legs nearly gave out beneath him. "You promised, man! You PROMISED!" he cried, his voice shaking, eyes filled with despair. Ethan didn't respond. He simply pulled back the crossbow string again, another arrow already aimed at the man's forehead. Thwack! Another dull thud echoed through the supermarket as the arrow pierced through the man's skull, ending his life in an instant. His body collapsed to the floor, and once again, the supermarket fell into a deathly silence. Ethan lowered the crossbow and walked over to the bodies, glancing down at the three corpses. He muttered to himself, "The crossbow's power isn't bad." With a casual wave of his hand, the three bodies vanished, stored away in his spatial storage ring. To him, these corpses were no different from the other supplies he had gathered. In the world of the coming apocalypse, both the living and the dead were nothing more than 'food.'

Chapter 3 Food

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