Part 1: A New Day on the Surface

  The morning frost clung to the truck’s windows like a stubborn memory. Outside, the wasteland stretched in every direction—silent, cold, and empty in that eerie way only the surface could be.

  Kenji sat on the edge of his bunk, sipping from a steaming can of Kenji’s Coffee-Flavored Misery?, the system’s attempt at replicating something resembling coffee. It tasted like bitter defeat and synthetic caffeine, but it was hot, and that was more than most could hope for.

  Lira was curled up on the floor beside the heater, hugging a warm blanket and mumbling in her sleep. Elyra, as always, was up early, patrolling outside with a scavenged spear slung over her shoulder. Her silver hair swayed as she moved past the turret’s passive scan arc.

  Kenji opened the system console, checking overnight alerts.

  [Trade Network Status: ACTIVE]

  [New Inquiries: 3]

  [Incoming Potential Traders: ETA 4 hours / 9 hours]

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Guess the rumors are spreading faster than I thought.”

  People were starting to believe the legend—a relic of the old world, running a food shack in the apocalypse. A living fossil serving hot beans and mystery meat in the middle of a frozen hell.

  He tapped another screen.

  [Power Core Status: 84%]

  [Crystal Fuel Reserves: Stable]

  [Upgrade Progress: 21%]

  Kenji paused.

  “Wait… what’s this?”

  He hovered over the bar labeled Upgrade Progress, which he’d never noticed before. It had appeared beneath the power core diagnostics, subtle and mostly unmarked.

  “System. Explain this bar.”

  [Upgrade bar increases with every infused monster crystal.]

  [When filled, new upgrade path options will unlock.]

  “Upgrade paths? Like what?”

  [Options will be revealed upon bar completion. Possible categories include defense systems, mobility upgrades, production modules, or others.]

  Kenji leaned back, staring at the screen.

  So… I’ve been grinding XP without knowing it. Figures.

  It was good to know, though. If nothing else, it gave him something to work toward. He made a mental note: keep collecting crystals. Maybe one day he’d unlock a “turn-everything-into-a-gun” mode.

  The truck hummed softly beneath him. The turret outside clicked quietly as it rotated, always scanning. Lira stirred behind him and mumbled something incoherent before pulling the blanket tighter.

  Kenji took another sip of misery-in-a-can and sighed.

  “Let’s see what kind of nonsense today brings.”

  Outside, the frost was beginning to melt—just slightly. Somewhere out there, someone was heading his way. Starving. Cold. Probably armed.

  And most likely desperate enough to trade their last possessions for a hot can of Kenji’s Baked Bean Regret?

  Part 2: First Trade of the Day

  The soft ping of the proximity alert brought Kenji out of his morning slump.

  [INCOMING LIFEFORM – APPROACHING FROM SOUTHEAST]

  [THREAT LEVEL: LOW]

  He pulled up the external camera.

  One figure.

  Wearing mismatched armor—mostly bone, fur, and patched synthleather. A tattered hood obscured their face. No sled, no escorts. Just one scrawny survivor dragging a backpack behind them through the snow.

  Kenji snorted.

  “Another bean-seeker.”

  He opened comms.

  “State your business.”

  The figure stumbled to a stop, breathing hard.

  “I-I heard the stories… hot food… I’ve got something to trade! I swear!”

  “Let’s see it.”

  The survivor reached into their coat and pulled out a hard crystal the size of a fist—dull green with cracks. Then, from the bag, a chunk of what looked like mutated beast meat, frozen stiff.

  Kenji tapped his console.

  [SCANNING TRADE OFFER…]

  [ITEM 1: Faded Monster Crystal – Energy Value: 0.9 Cans]

  [ITEM 2: Corrupted Beast Carcass Chunk – Biomass Grade: Low]

  [TOTAL TRADE VALUE: Equivalent of 1.4 Cans]

  Barely enough for a full meal…

  He cracked open the hatch slightly and slid a single warm can through.

  Kenji’s Creamy Guilt Stew?

  “A reminder that you’re still alive. Unfortunately.”

  The traveler fell to their knees as the scent hit them.

  “Oh… god…”

  They cracked it open, took one bite—and sobbed. Right there in the snow.

  “It’s real. It’s hot. It doesn’t taste like roach paste!”

  Kenji rolled his eyes and closed the hatch.

  Inside, Lira appeared at his side, watching through the screen.

  “You think he’ll come back?”

  “If he survives long enough to finish that stew, probably.”

  Elyra chuckled from the back of the truck. “You’re starting to get a reputation.”

  Kenji checked the network console.

  [MENTION TAGS INCREASED: +12]

  [New Descriptors: ‘The Shack Ghost,’ ‘The Last Chef,’ ‘Can God’]

  “Can God?” he muttered.

  The system chimed.

  [Public nickname detected – Accept or Reject?]

  “Reject. Immediately.”

  [Rejection logged. The gods are disappointed.]

  Kenji sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  “They’ll come crawling. One after another. All for a can of hot regret.”

  But he was starting to enjoy it.

  A little.

  Part 3: Beast in the Snow

  The wind carried more than cold today.

  Kenji felt it in his gut. Something off. The kind of silence that didn’t last in the apocalypse.

  The turret beeped softly.

  [MOTION DETECTED – HIGH SPEED]

  [TARGET: MUTATED ICE HOUND – CLASS: COMMON – COUNT: 1]

  Kenji squinted at the screen. A sleek, bone-armored beast charged across the frozen ground—limbs too long, mouth open wide enough to unhinge a jaw.

  “Ugly mutt.”

  The turret didn’t wait.

  Whirrrrr… BOOM.

  A clean plasma burst caught the beast mid-pounce. It flipped backward in a blur of smoke and snow, then dropped like a broken toy.

  Kenji calmly sipped his Kenji’s Salted Silence Stew?, watching the body twitch for a second before going still.

  From outside, Elyra’s voice called in over comms.

  “Target down. Clean shot.”

  Lira peeked up from behind a crate. “It sounded close.”

  “Didn’t get the memo about the turret,” Kenji muttered.

  Elyra dragged the corpse back with little effort, ice cracking beneath its weight. Kenji was already scanning the remains.

  [MUTATED ICE HOUND – BIOMASS VALUE: MODERATE]

  [CORRUPTION: LOW – SAFE FOR PROCESSING]

  [CRYSTAL CORE: INTACT – MINOR TIER]

  “System, convert it. Meat and fuel.”

  [Confirmed. Processing… +2.4% Upgrade Progress.]

  Kenji raised an eyebrow.

  The upgrade bar ticked slightly forward on the screen.

  He stared at it a little longer than usual.

  “Keep feeding you and I get stronger, huh?”

  He leaned back, opened the trade network console, and began typing—not in desperation, but with careful wording.

  TRADE LISTING POSTED

  LOOKING TO IMPROVE – Defense Parts & Equipment Welcome

  Got spare drone cores? Turret mounts? Sensor arrays?

  I’m accepting trades on gear that keeps things quiet and calm out here.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Hot meals in return. You know where to find me.

  – K

  The post went live.

  Kenji tapped the can on the counter before taking another bite of what was definitely not pork.

  “Let’s see who brings scrap for stew.”

  Outside, the wind picked up again—and something growled back.

  Part 4: The First Defense Trade

  The first response to Kenji’s trade post arrived faster than he expected.

  [INCOMING GROUP – ETA: 5 MINUTES]

  [PARTY SIZE: 3]

  [ARMAMENT: MELEE – UNBALANCED LOADOUT]

  [BIOMETRICS: ELEVATED HEART RATE – HIGH STRESS]

  Kenji watched through the turret cam as three figures trudged through the snow. Dirty, underdressed, no sled. Nothing that even resembled trade goods.

  “Here we go…”

  Lira stood beside him, arms folded. “They’re not carrying anything useful.”

  Elyra was crouched near the rear hatch, sharpening a blade. “They’re here for free food.”

  Kenji didn’t open comms. He didn’t greet them. He just waited.

  The moment one of them broke formation and started to circle wide, the turret clicked into a low hum.

  [TARGET LOCKED]

  The first man rushed the Shack.

  THWOMP!

  One clean shot.

  He dropped, steam hissing from the hole in his chest.

  The second screamed and ran forward with a crude axe.

  THWOMP.

  Another body hit the snow.

  The third froze, hands in the air, mouth open.

  Kenji tapped the external speaker.

  “Nice try.”

  The survivor fell to his knees. “P-please! I wasn’t part of it! I-I’ll trade info! Bandit camp, I swear! South ridge!”

  Kenji rolled his eyes. “System, verify?”

  [MATCHED WITH LOW-CREDIBILITY CHATTER – LOCATION PROBABLE, BUT SOURCE UNRELIABLE]

  “Didn’t think so.”

  The turret whined threateningly. The man turned and bolted into the snow.

  Kenji didn’t waste the shot.

  Instead, he opened the system interface.

  [COMBAT LOG UPDATED – HOSTILE GROUP NEUTRALIZED]

  [ADDITIONAL RECOMMENDATION: PROCESS BODIES FOR BIOMASS]

  [YIELD ESTIMATE: ~1.2 Cans Per Human Corpse]

  Kenji raised an eyebrow.

  “You telling me I can cook with people now?”

  [Clarification: All organic biomass is convertible. No species bias. Recycling is efficient.]

  He sighed.

  “Ethics really took the long nap out here.”

  Elyra stepped outside and dragged the corpses one by one to the biomass chute near the generator. The system buzzed contentedly as it broke them down, bit by bit.

  [+1.2% Upgrade Progress]

  [+1.3% Upgrade Progress]

  Kenji cracked open a can of Kenji’s Victory Chili?, leaned back, and exhaled through his nose.

  Lira sat beside him, frowning slightly.

  “They didn’t even have food. Just desperation.”

  Kenji grunted. “Desperation has calories.”

  The turret resumed its quiet patrol. The Shack hummed. The generator pulsed warmer.

  And in the snow behind them, nothing moved—just the fading steam of another bad idea, executed cleanly.

  Part 5: Reputation Grows

  Somewhere beneath the frost-bitten surface, in a half-lit tunnel deep within Bastion’s outer ring, a scavenger warmed his hands over a rusted barrel fire and whispered to his crew.

  “I heard he fried three guys with a single turret shot.”

  “Just one shot?”

  “Clean through the first two. The third ran. Smartest move of his life.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Tried to steal a can.”

  The others stared in silence.

  “Did they even get to taste it?”

  “Nope. Died hungry.”

  The legend of the Shack Man, Can Ghost, Apocalypse Cook, and—most mockingly—Grandpa Godmouth was spreading like frostbite. No one agreed on the name, but they all agreed on one thing:

  Hot food. On the surface. For trade.

  And maybe—just maybe—a place worth risking your life for.

  Back at the Shack, Kenji reviewed the latest system report.

  [TRADE NODE STATUS: GROWING]

  [PUBLIC TAGS INCREASING: +34 in 24 hours]

  [MENTIONS: “Hot Can Demon,” “Ghost Cook,” “Relic Vendor,” “Safe Zone”]

  [RUMORS: “He eats demons,” “Immortal food god,” “One-eyed war chef”]

  Kenji pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “One-eyed war chef?”

  Lira sat nearby, folding blankets for no reason at all.

  “They’re scared of you. That’s good, right?”

  Elyra handed him a satchel of gathered scraps. “Or they want to find you. Depends on who shows up next.”

  Kenji tapped the side of the screen.

  “System. Estimate how many people know where I am.”

  [Current Visibility Radius: 17.4km]

  [Estimated Individuals Actively Seeking Location: 9 parties]

  “How many are probably not friendly?”

  [~47% Based on Movement Patterns and Loadouts]

  Kenji leaned back.

  No rest for the hungry or the paranoid.

  Another alert popped up.

  [UPGRADE BAR: 27% FULL]

  It was slow, but steady. Every crystal, every corpse, every scrap of meat processed through the biomass chute brought him closer to something more. Bigger guns. More protection. A flying fortress maybe—one day.

  But for now, he had stew to stir and raiders to scare.

  “Let them talk. I’ll be here when they’re ready to trade.”

  He cracked open a fresh can of Kenji’s Mutual Respect Ration?, watched steam curl from the lid, and waited for the next hungry soul to come knocking

  Part 6: A Stranger’s Offer

  The snow crunched under heavy boots.

  Kenji watched the figure approach through the external cam feed—alone, but far too confident for a typical scavenger. Clean coat. Reinforced armor. Not limping. Not starving. That was a rare sight.

  More telling?

  He had a radio on his belt. One that actually worked.

  [INCOMING LIFEFORM – IDENTITY: UNKNOWN]

  [THREAT LEVEL: UNDETERMINED – NO WEAPONS DRAWN]

  Kenji didn’t open the hatch. Not yet.

  Instead, he tapped the comms. “You’ve got ten seconds. Start talking.”

  The man stopped about ten meters out, raised both hands, and spoke calmly.

  “Name’s Corven. I represent the Ironfang Guild. We operate out of Bastion Delta. We’ve been watching your… operation.”

  Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So you’re spies now?”

  “Just traders,” Corven said with a smile. “We’ve heard the stories—some sound ridiculous, others too specific to be fake. You’ve got something unique. And my people… well, they like cans.”

  Kenji stared at the console.

  Ironfang. Mid-tier syndicate. Mostly arms dealing and high-risk surface salvage. Not friendly, not stupid either.

  “Let me guess. You’re here to offer a partnership.”

  Corven didn’t flinch. “We’d like access to regular food shipments. In return, we offer protection. Information. Maybe even tech salvage you can’t scavenge alone.”

  Kenji tapped his console again.

  [TRADE OFFER DETECTED – PENDING NEGOTIATION]

  [SYSTEM ADVICE: REPUTATION BENEFIT POSSIBLE – RISK: ALLIANCE OPENS POSITION TO EXPLOITATION]

  He let the silence hang.

  Lira peeked over his shoulder. “He looks too clean.”

  Elyra already had a hand near the hatch lever. “Want me to test his reflexes?”

  Kenji cracked his neck and opened the comms again.

  “I’ll give you a sample. One can. No promises.”

  Corven smiled wider. “More than fair.”

  Kenji dropped a warm can through the chute.

  Kenji’s Allegiance Meat Medley?

  “Neutrality never tasted so good.”

  Corven caught it, popped the lid, sniffed once—and raised his brows.

  “That’s… real meat?”

  Kenji didn’t respond.

  Corven took one bite. Chewed. Swallowed. And looked up like he’d just been shown fire for the first time.

  “Alright. You’ve got my attention.”

  Kenji tapped his finger on the console.

  And I’ve got yours

  Part 7: Negotiation Games

  Corven leaned against a crooked slab of ice-covered metal, still chewing slowly on the last bite of Kenji’s Allegiance Meat Medley?. He looked thoughtful—like a man trying to remember what real food tasted like before the end of the world.

  Kenji watched him through the monitor with the same expression he used for malfunctioning vending machines.

  “You got the sample. What now?”

  Corven raised his comm unit. “I report back. They’ll want more.”

  “They always do.”

  “Look,” Corven said, standing straight again, “we’re not trying to own you. We’re not the big guys. But you’re pulling attention. From worse people than us.”

  Kenji didn’t answer right away.

  The system chimed quietly.

  [FACTION INTEREST: CONFIRMED – IRONFANG GUILD – NEUTRAL-OPPORTUNISTIC]

  [RISK ASSESSMENT: LOW-MODERATE – TRUSTWORTHY FOR SHORT-TERM GAINS]

  He switched to voice. “What kind of trade volume are we talking?”

  “Depends what you’ll offer and how often. You’ve got a growing rep down in Bastion. Hell, people think you’re some kind of lost relic—old world tech user, ancient soldier, maybe even an experiment.”

  Kenji smirked.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “They’re calling you things like ‘The Shack Ghost,’ ‘The Warmonger Cook,’ and—my favorite—‘Old Man Fullmetal Chef.’”

  “I hate all of those.”

  Corven chuckled. “Keep feeding people, and they’ll keep inventing titles. All I want is first rights to relay the word. My people handle communication, keep your name clean, and we bring in high-value customers. Think noble contracts. Black market contacts. Rare parts.”

  Kenji leaned back, arms crossed.

  He didn’t like syndicates. He especially didn’t like middlemen.

  But he liked rare parts.

  He opened a private system window and typed:

  [SET CONDITIONAL TERMS – LOW-LEVEL TRADE OPENING ONLY – NO LOCATION DISCLOSURE – ALL DEALS VETTED INDIVIDUALLY]

  [AUTO-DENY: Demands for food storage, mass shipments, or loyalty clauses.]

  Then he tapped the comm.

  “Fine. You can tell your people I’ll listen. But I don’t answer to anyone. No syndicate, no nobles, no fake protection offers.”

  Corven gave a sharp nod. “Understood.”

  “I’m not part of your world. I’m just the guy with the beans.”

  “And a turret that vaporizes idiots,” Corven added with a smile.

  Kenji cracked a grin. “Exactly.”

  Corven took one last breath, nodded again, and turned into the snow. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The turret tracked him but didn’t fire.

  Kenji exhaled through his nose and muttered, “This just got more complicated.”

  The system buzzed.

  [New Trade Route Flagged – IRONFANG NETWORK – Potential Access: Weapon Salvage, Prototype Drones, Armor Mods]

  Well… now we’re cooking.

  Part 8: What Lies Beneath

  Down in Bastion’s darker levels—where light flickered and fungus grew in the cracks—rumors whispered louder than facts.

  A scavenger leaned across a bar counter made from scrap metal and whispered, “I heard his turret isn’t even powered by crystals—it runs on souls.”

  Another piped up, slurring slightly, “Nah, man. It’s leftover war tech from the Forgotten Armory. They say he’s got nanobots that cook for him.”

  The bartender just laughed. “He’s probably a failed god experiment. Or some kind of immortal. My cousin swears he saw the truck float.”

  Every person had their own theory about the Shack Man. Most of them were wildly wrong, and Kenji preferred it that way.

  Back on the surface, Kenji sipped a cup of Kenji’s Reheated Realism?, watching the trade network light up with new messages.

  [MENTIONS: +22 – Most Common Tags: “Ghost Cook,” “Relic Vendor,” “The Meal Reaper”]

  “Meal Reaper?” he muttered.

  The system chimed politely.

  [Your reputation has exceeded local boundaries. Several factions are now aware of your existence. No one, however, knows anything factual about your origin.]

  “Good. Let them keep guessing.”

  Kenji leaned back and opened his food stock logs. Supplies were holding strong. A few processed beast corpses from yesterday added more biomass. The upgrade bar had quietly ticked up again.

  [UPGRADE BAR: 32%]

  Another message popped in—an anonymous request from the network.

  [Interested in trading secrets for stew?]

  He blinked.

  “That’s new.”

  He didn’t reply.

  Lira walked past humming, while Elyra cleaned her spear near the hatch.

  Out here, things stayed quiet… for now.

  But beneath that quiet, the world was watching. Wondering. Whispering.

  And none of them had a clue what they were dealing with.

  Part 9: Rumors from the Underground

  Far below the surface, beneath reinforced steel and dim flickering lights, the world buzzed with one name.

  Kenji.

  Whispers of a food truck on the surface—still functional, still firing, still feeding—had trickled through every layer of Bastion society. In the slums, they called it luck. In the black markets, they called it leverage. Among the nobles?

  They called it an opportunity.

  In one of Bastion Sigma’s private domes, a noblewoman tapped a holo-map with her gloved hand. The room was warm, sterile, lined with guards in gleaming white armor. Her convoy had been prepping for hours—snow-traversing vehicle calibrated, anti-thermal cloaks packed, weapons checked.

  “Send a scout team to verify the Shack’s coordinates. Bring the armored crawler. I want to taste what the surface hasn’t tasted in a century.”

  Her guards nodded, half of them modified. Some had glowing eyes. One had a mechanical jaw that clicked when he bowed.

  “Yes, Lady Veiss.”

  Up top, the wind screamed.

  Kenji didn’t care. He was checking the trade logs.

  [TRADE NODE STATUS: ACTIVE – OUTSIDE BASTION INTEREST CONFIRMED]

  [HIGH-VALUE SIGNAL: NOBLE CONVOY – ETA 16 HOURS]

  He grunted.

  “They’re really coming all this way… for a can of chili.”

  Lira looked up from her polishing duties. “Do they even know what’s in it?”

  Elyra snorted. “Probably not. Nobles just want to be first.”

  Kenji leaned back in his seat, staring at the screen.

  “They’ll bring fancy gear. Guards with metal arms. Tanks on legs. And they’ll still beg for beans.”

  The system beeped in acknowledgment.

  [REPUTATION TAG UPDATE: “Surface Saint”]

  [Caution: Increased visibility draws increased envy.]

  Kenji closed the alert.

  “Good. Let them come. I’ll feed them all… and drain their wallets.”

  Outside, the wind howled like it knew something was coming.

  Inside, Kenji’s Shack hummed.

  Waiting

  Part 10: A Bigger Bite

  The rumble came first.

  Snow vibrated under the Shack’s reinforced frame as Kenji’s turret rotated, already locking onto the signal coming from the south ridge. Through the camera feed, a long black crawler emerged—eight wheels, six stabilizing legs, high-tech plating, and an armored hull that looked custom-modded.

  A noble convoy.

  The turret pinged.

  [SIGNATURE DETECTED – VEHICLE TYPE: HEAVY TRANSPORT]

  [ESCORT UNITS: 6 – CYBER/GENETICALLY ENHANCED]

  [THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE – NO AGGRESSIVE ACTION DETECTED]

  Kenji watched them crawl to a stop thirty meters out. The lead crawler hissed open, steam rising around the exit ramp. A tall woman stepped out—wrapped in reinforced fur, her every movement as calculated as her expression was cold.

  “System,” Kenji said. “Give me a noble readout.”

  [ID: LADY VEISS – HOUSE: BASTION SIGMA – TRADE HISTORY: CLEAN]

  Behind her, her guards spread into a practiced formation. One had a mechanical eye. Another had a fully cybernetic arm ending in a built-in blade. None looked underfed. All were armed.

  Kenji didn’t blink.

  “State your name, trade intent, and don’t waste my time.”

  She smirked slightly, voice clear through the comms.

  “Lady Veiss. I represent Bastion Sigma’s trade council. We’ve come to establish first contact… and to eat.”

  One of her guards stepped forward with a black reinforced case, opening it with a quiet hiss.

  Inside was treasure.

  ? Two mid-tier monster cores, faintly glowing.

  ? A combat-grade neural chip.

  ? A sealed ration of rare beast meat.

  ? A set of clean, working power cells.

  ? Salvaged drone armor plating.

  ? A vial of clear serum—high-end stimulant.

  Kenji’s system calculated fast.

  [Total Estimated Value: 27.5 Cans]

  Kenji responded flatly. “You’ll get six cans. The rest goes to processing fees, turret insurance, and emotional damage.”

  “Emotional damage?” Veiss asked.

  “You made me open a hatch in the middle of a blizzard.”

  She actually smiled.

  Kenji hit the release. The cans dropped onto the snow one after another, steaming from the heating seal.

  ? Kenji’s Executive Steak Relief?

  ? Kenji’s Elitist Mushroom Casserole?

  ? Kenji’s Velvet Bean Medley?

  ? Kenji’s Cultured Chicken Stew?

  ? Kenji’s Spoiled Rotten Chili Deluxe?

  ? Kenji’s Noble Noodle Nest?

  Her guards twitched at the names. Veiss picked up the first can and popped it open.

  A gust of savory steam escaped. She blinked once—then slowly took a spoonful.

  A long pause. Then her lips parted slightly.

  “This… is actual food.”

  “Of course it is,” Kenji said. “You paid almost thirty cans for it.”

  Veiss stood silently, savoring another bite. Then: “We’ll be back.”

  “Bring more than a snack box next time.”

  “And what would you want, Shackmaster?”

  “Drone parts. Turret scrap. Maybe a laser cannon.”

  “Charming.”

  She signaled her convoy to depart. The crawler rumbled back into motion, vanishing into the snow like a ghost ship.

  Inside, Kenji leaned back in his chair.

  Lira peeked up. “You think they’ll cause problems?”

  “Only if they’re dumb enough to try.”

  Elyra, polishing a blade, chuckled. “I hope they try.”

  The Shack hummed. The turret settled back into idle.

  And Kenji opened one last system alert.

  [Upgrade Progress: 38%]

  [Reputation Tag Unlocked: ‘Feeder of the Elite’]

  Kenji groaned.

  “I hate nobles.”

  But he liked their trade.

  End of Chapter 3.