The Shack Awakens

  Kenji groaned as he cracked one eye open to the familiar ceiling of his truck’s living quarters. The mattress groaned with him, protesting the weight of a man whose back had seen too many decades of abuse and not enough massages lately. The Shack’s internal heating system hummed softly, and more importantly, the unmistakable smell of beef stew with garlic rice filled the air.

  He sat up with a grunt. “At least one thing in this world makes sense.”

  Outside his quarters, Lira was already awake and working like a busy little secretary bee. Her humming carried a mix of cheer and menace—a clear sign she was in a good mood and also probably plotting something. Kenji didn’t mind. Her loyalty was absolute, and she could organize stockpiles better than half the logistics AIs from his old world.

  “Morning, old man!” she chirped from the food window as he stepped into the main cabin. “I updated today’s menu. Wanna see?”

  Kenji squinted at the glowing screen. The Shack’s divine system had, of course, given everything names that would make any serious chef weep. Today’s menu featured:

  ? “Nuclear Nachos with Realish Cheese”

  ? “Apoca-Ramen”

  ? “Beefy End-of-Days Stew”

  ? “Wasteland Wakey-Wakey Breakfast Burrito”

  ? “Limited Edition: Deviled Dog with Pickled Ghoul Bits” (not actually containing ghouls—probably)

  Kenji groaned. “I told the system to tone it down.”

  Lira giggled. “It said no. Again.”

  The Shack’s exterior sensors pinged a few times. Through the front display, Kenji could already spot two groups approaching—one looked like scavengers on foot, huddled in heavy fur cloaks, and the other was a lightly armored crawler vehicle with noble insignias half-scraped off.

  More traffic, more mouths to feed.

  Kenji leaned back in the driver’s chair, which he had long since claimed as his “thinking throne.” “So… people really are stupid enough to risk the surface for snacks.”

  “They say you’re a legend now,” Lira added, opening a new crate of supplies. “Someone even called you the Wasteland Vendor-God.”

  He blinked. “The hell kind of title is that?”

  “The funny kind,” she said with a smirk.

  Kenji rubbed his face. Not even a week ago, he was just trying to survive out here. Now, people were calling him a god for heating up cans and not murdering them.

  Still, the Shack was running smoother than ever. The turret had cleaned off last night’s frost, the generator was purring along, and the system reports showed a steady rise in biomass reserves and surface reputation. His hidden upgrade bar, quietly ticking in the background, was now at 62%.

  “Everything’s too quiet,” he muttered. “That means something stupid is about to happen.”

  Lira just smiled. “Well then. Let’s make some stupid money while we can.”

  A Tasty Trade

  The wind howled across the icy plains as a sleek, armored crawler pulled up near the Shack. Kenji squinted through the observation window, sipping broth with one hand while flipping through trade logs with the other.

  This ride wasn’t the usual scrapheap-on-wheels. Six rugged tires, high-end shock suspension, turret hardpoints, and a working heat-radiator system. That meant professionals.

  The crawler hissed to a stop, and three figures stepped out: two guards in snowproof battle gear, and a weathered man with a cybernetic eye and frost-scarred knuckles.

  “You the Shack guy?” the man called.

  Kenji opened the serving hatch halfway and leaned out. “What gave it away? The glowing vending lights or the fact I’m the only one dumb enough to park on the surface?”

  The man grinned. “Fair. We’ve got meat. Not junk. A-rank kill, from The Other Side. Cleaned, frozen, and fresh.”

  Kenji’s eyes flicked to the crate they lowered from the back of the crawler. The moment the lid cracked open, his system lit up like a Christmas tree.

  [Scan Complete]

  Item: Abyssal Direwolf Meat (A-Rank – The Other Side)

  Biomass Value: EXTREMELY HIGH (approx. 25–30 cans per slab)

  Condition: Surface Freeze Preserved

  Magical Traces Detected – Boosts internal power processing efficiency

  Kenji nodded thoughtfully, remembering what Elyra—his loyal beastwoman guard—told him about the hunter ranking system just days ago.

  “A-rank hunters are elites. They don’t chase rabbits. If they bring something in, it’s because it nearly killed them—or they want it to impress someone.”

  He gave a lazy shrug. “I’ll give you ten cans per slab. Premium menu.”

  That made the man hesitate. His guards glanced at each other.

  “Ten?” he asked, skeptical. “That’s… kind of low for A-rank kill meat, don’t you think?”

  Kenji smirked. “Alright. Let me ask you something. You planning to go underground? Sell it in Bastion? What’s the current market rate down there—thirty creds? Forty? Then pay an entry fee, wait through customs, and have some noble asshole tell you it’s cursed and offer you five?”

  The man said nothing.

  Kenji leaned on the ledge. “And let’s say you want canned food instead. Who do you buy it from? Those shady vendors near the outer tunnels? The same guys who get their supply from me, then slap a fifty percent markup?”

  Now that got a reaction.

  “You really think you’ll get a better deal than ten fresh cans, hot and ready, right here, where no one’s breathing recycled fart air?”

  The hunter’s shoulders relaxed. His cybernetic eye flickered, processing.

  “…Alright,” he said. “Ten per slab. We’ve got three.”

  Kenji gave a lazy wave. “Unload ’em. Enjoy your curry rice.”

  They handed off the crates. The moment the meat entered the Shack, the system drank it in greedily.

  [Biomass Intake: +87 Cans Worth]

  Upgrade Progress: 74% → 83%

  Inside, Lira sighed dramatically as she handed the guards their food. “He acts like he’s being generous.”

  Kenji leaned back into his chair, grinning. “That’s because I am. I let them walk away with full bellies instead of full regrets.”

  He popped open a dessert tin labeled “Wasteland S’mores (Now with 40% Less Sadness)” and took a bite.

  “Let ‘em keep hunting monsters,” he said. “I’ll just keep selling them something that tastes better than regret.”

  The Price of Flesh

  The hunters were barely out of sight when a ragged group came trudging across the snowy plain, pulling a low sled lined with iron cages. Kenji watched from the Shack’s doorway, a can of hot stew in one hand, and quietly noted the desperation in their eyes.

  “Slavers,” he muttered. “They’re here to buy.”

  Lira wrinkled her nose, peering over his shoulder. “You think they can afford us?”

  Kenji shrugged. “They must have something worth trading, or they wouldn’t risk the surface.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  As they neared, the lead slaver raised a gloved hand in a stiff greeting. His breath steamed in the cold air. “You the one selling canned food?” he rasped. “We need supplies—real food, not cockroach bars.”

  Kenji nodded. “Depends. What’re you offering?”

  The man gestured to the cages on the sled. “Slaves. All still breathing. Most can work. One’s a beastkin. Dangerous, but strong.”

  Without a word, Kenji walked past him to inspect the cargo. Most of the captives were half-frozen, curled beneath thin blankets. But one stood out: a tall, red-haired beastkin with piercing golden eyes that burned with defiance. Even with a metal collar locked around her neck, she managed to stand upright, her gaze never wavering from Kenji.

  [System Scan – Beastkin Female Detected]

  Condition: Malnourished but stable

  Combat Potential: High

  Loyalty Projection (Post-imprint): Very High

  Estimated Value: 6 cans

  “She tore through one of our dogs,” the slaver muttered. “Almost cost us a man. Would’ve sold her underground, but…” He shrugged. “Too risky to haul her all the way back to Bastion right now.”

  Kenji turned to another cage, spotting a frail girl who looked barely conscious. “What about her?”

  “Scavenger. Not much fight in her, but she’s alive,” the slaver said.

  Kenji straightened. “I’ll give you eight cans total—good meals, hot and sealed—for both of them.”

  The slaver glared. “Eight? You’re joking. That beastkin alone should be worth fifteen.”

  Kenji set down his can of stew and folded his arms. “Taking them underground will cost you more time, bribes, and risk than you can afford. Especially if they’re this weak. Any bandit attack, any glitch in your sled—those girls die, and you get nothing.”

  He paused, letting the wind howl for a moment. “Or you can buy my food right now. High-grade cans people pay a fortune for in Bastion—if you decide to resell them. Or just eat them yourselves.

  Lira stood behind Kenji, arms crossed. The slaver glanced at the Shack’s turret, which swiveled slightly, its lens glinting under the pale sun. A quiet threat.

  The man finally sighed, shoulders sagging. “Fine. Eight cans. Hand ’em over.”

  Within minutes, Kenji had the slavers purchase those eight cans: various stews, ramen, and even a rare dessert tin. Relief flashed over their faces. In exchange, they unlatched the two cages, hauling out the half-conscious girl first. The beastkin followed, her chains rattling—but her posture never breaking.

  Lira guided the weaker girl into the Shack. The red-haired beastkin looked at Kenji with an expression that was more curious than afraid, even as her collar synced to his system ID.

  Just inside, Elyra glanced up from cleaning a blade, her gaze flicking momentarily to the new arrivals. No jealousy, no hostility—just a small nod of acknowledgment.

  Kenji lingered at the doorway, exhaling as the cold wind bit at his skin.

  “Two lives in exchange for eight cans,” he muttered. “Better than trying to sell them in Bastion, I suppose.”

  Lira edged closer, her arms still folded. “Food’s precious. People come cheap.”

  He gave a small smirk and turned to follow them in. “Exactly. And loyalty’s a bargain if you know how to pay for it.”

  The metal door hissed shut behind him, sealing out the chill.

  Of Thieves and Turrets

  That night, the Shack’s interior was almost peaceful—warm air pumping through the vents, a soft hum from the generator, and the faint rattle of supplies shifting in their crates. Lira busied herself with reorganizing the newly acquired stock of canned meals, while Elyra quietly polished her knives in a corner. The red-haired beastkin girl, still collared and underfed, observed from a distance, watching Kenji with cautious curiosity.

  Kenji himself was hunched over a small console near the driver’s seat, tweaking the Shack’s security parameters. The system displayed various camera feeds outside, each angle tinted blue-green by low-light sensors. Even this far from Bastion, rumors had spread—he knew opportunists would come poking around sooner or later.

  Just past midnight, the turret’s motion sensors beeped.

  [System Alert]

  Movement detected: perimeter breach

  Threat classification: Unknown

  Kenji pulled up the camera feed. Four silhouettes crept through the darkness, hugging the sides of an icy ridge. They wore patched winter gear and carried mismatched rifles or makeshift blades—low-level bandits, by the look of it. Probably desperate for real food.

  Lira peered over his shoulder. “We should lock the doors.”

  Kenji snorted. “Already done.”

  Outside, the group advanced in a loose formation, one eye on the Shack’s turret as they tried to approach from a blind spot. They failed. The turret whirred softly, rotating with uncanny precision. Before the thieves even realized they’d been spotted, a rapid burst of energy rounds lit up the night.

  They scattered, but it was too late. Two went down immediately, dropping with smoking holes in their coats. A third fell screaming, only half a leg remaining from the knee down. The last bandit froze in place, arms raised, rifle clattering to the ground.

  The beastkin girl flinched at the sudden noise, eyes narrowing. Elyra kept cleaning her blade, seemingly unbothered. Lira swallowed hard but said nothing. Kenji yawned, stood up, and grabbed a heavy coat.

  “I’ll go see if any of them survived,” he muttered. “Might learn something.”

  He stepped outside into the cold. The turret’s lights flickered over bloody snow and the trembling figure of the one bandit still breathing. Kenji knelt, meeting the terrified man’s eyes.

  “You picked the wrong place,” Kenji said flatly.

  The man tried to speak, sputtering a desperate apology. Kenji just sighed, dragging him closer to the Shack. His system beeped with a prompt to interrogate or dispose. Lira and the others watched from inside.

  “Let’s hear him out,” Kenji decided. “Maybe he has friends who want to make the same mistake”.

  Tales of the Shack

  Morning came with little warmth. A watery sun barely broke through the clouds, leaving the plains in a cold gray light. Kenji took a moment to bury the remains of last night’s raiders, shoveling snow over their bodies. It was messy work, but leaving corpses around the Shack would only attract predators—or worse.

  Inside, Lira fried up thin cuts of canned ration on a portable skillet. The smell was pleasant, though the mood felt tense. Elyra paced near a window, blade in hand, her gaze flicking between the new red-haired beastkin and the endless ice outside. The beastkin, collar still firmly locked, watched Kenji with cautious intensity, as if trying to figure him out.

  When Kenji re-entered, Lira’s eyes were drawn to the bloodstains on his gloves. “Any last words from that one who was still breathing?”

  Kenji shook his head. “Just curses. He thought the Shack would be easy pickings.”

  He stepped to the Shack’s control console near the driver’s seat. A short-range broadcast signal blinked with fresh pings from travelers who picked up his location beacon:

  “Seeking hot food. Have salvage, might come if conditions allow.”

  “Heard rumors of a surface vendor. Can you confirm? We’re short on supplies.”

  Kenji smirked. Word was definitely spreading—but the more rumors circulated, the bigger the target on his back. He exhaled, scanning the horizon feed from his cameras.

  “I’m not too worried about small raids anymore,” he muttered, “but if someone musters a real force…”

  Lira frowned. “An army? Would they bother?”

  Kenji shrugged, resting an elbow on the console. “In this weather, it’s a nightmare for large groups—blizzards, bandits, wandering beasts. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Some noble or warlord might get ambitious.”

  He opened a maintenance panel, eyeing the Shack’s systems. They were running smoothly, but he was still missing certain parts for the truck’s first major upgrade.

  “I just need to power this place up before that day comes,” he said, half to himself. “If an army does show, I’d rather have some actual teeth.”

  Lira clucked her tongue. “Teeth, huh?”

  “Turret’s not enough to shred a whole battalion,” Kenji pointed out. “Not yet. But each bit of salvage we collect gets me closer to the truck’s evolution.”

  Outside, an alarm beeped. Kenji checked a camera feed: a small drone soared in the distance, scanning the area with a glowing lens. Probably a noble’s scout. He tapped a quick command. The turret whirred, taking aim. A single burst of energy lit the sky, sending the drone plummeting in pieces.

  Kenji gathered the wreck and tossed it into the recycler. The system beeped a brief alert:

  [System Update]

  Salvaged Advanced Drone Parts

  Upgrade Progress: +8%

  He allowed himself a rare flicker of satisfaction. Each piece of scrap might push him closer to making the Shack unstoppable.

  “They’ll send more,” Lira warned softly, laying the fried rations on a plate.

  “Good,” Kenji said, returning inside. “I need all the salvage I can get.”

  She gave him a wry look. “Just don’t invite a whole legion.”

  Kenji took the plate from her and bit into a strip of crisped meat. “As long as they trickle in one drone at a time, I’m happy.”

  He glanced at the newly acquired beastkin. She watched him intently, as if she could sense the tension simmering beneath his calm words. Elyra offered her a reassuring nod but said nothing.

  Kenji allowed himself a tight smile, trying not to think about a future where an entire army marched across this frozen wasteland, hungry for his food and his life.

  He needed more power, and soon

  A Little Too Bright

  It started three days ago with a skyquake.

  Kenji was halfway through a nap when the turret blared to life with a warning more urgent than usual.

  [ALERT – HIGH-ENERGY OBJECT INBOUND]

  Groggy and annoyed, he dragged himself to the Shack’s main hatch just in time to witness a burning-red object tearing through the sky. It streaked across the clouds like a divine missile and slammed into the tundra with a thunderous boom, kicking up ice, snow, and a glowing shockwave that rattled every can in his inventory.

  He’d thought it was some kind of meteor—or maybe a pre-apocalypse weapon finally falling out of orbit. But when the steam cleared, it was something else entirely.

  Nestled in a crater of cracked permafrost was a jagged red crystal, the size of a grown man and humming with deep, rhythmic energy. Its glow lit up the storm like bloodfire. Kenji’s system wasted no time:

  [ITEM IDENTIFIED: CRIMSON CORE – DIVINE-GRADE FUSION CATALYST]

  [WARNING: EXTREME ENERGY POTENTIAL. HAZARDOUS. DO NOT INGEST.]

  “…Why is that even an option?” Kenji muttered.

  He considered leaving it. Anything labeled “divine-grade” was guaranteed to be cursed in some cosmic way. But curiosity—and a crippling addiction to system upgrades—won out.

  He rigged a tow sled, strapped on every layer of insulation he owned, and spent two miserable hours dragging the core across the frozen hellscape back to the Shack. It vibrated the entire way, like it was laughing at him.

  Back inside, the system offered a single suggestion:

  [PROCESS VIA SYSTEM RECYCLER? Y/N]

  Kenji sighed. “Fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  The moment the core dropped into the recycler chute, the truck convulsed. Lights surged and dimmed. The turret rebooted with a snort. The floor shifted as energy coursed through every panel and conduit.

  [UPGRADE PROGRESS: +23%]

  That single core had pushed the bar all the way to the top.

  [TOTAL UPGRADE PROGRESS: 100% – THRESHOLD REACHED]

  And just like that, things got… quiet.

  Kenji didn’t expect fanfare. Not after the last time the system tried to celebrate—there had been confetti, a mocking fanfare, and one disturbing can labeled “Kenji’s Party Slop?.”

  But this time, the upgrade announcement arrived with little more than a soft chime. Outside, above the Shack’s roof, something new had formed—a crimson-red orb floating in slow rotation, emitting gentle pulses of warmth and energy.

  The Crimson Core had not just been processed—it had been integrated. Now it hovered like a miniature sun, bathing the immediate area in faint red glow and keeping the worst of the frost at bay. The ambient temperature within a hundred-meter radius noticeably rose, making it the warmest place for kilometers in any direction. It didn’t melt everything, but it took the edge off the cold—enough for people to breathe without frostbite setting in instantly.

  It also pulsed rhythmically, the energy waves rolling out like invisible ripples.

  Kenji’s system had explained it in brief:

  [CRIMSON CORE EFFECT: ENVIRONMENTAL STABILIZATION ENABLED – LOCAL TEMPERATURE REGULATED]

  [CAUTION: ENERGY PULSES ATTRACT DEMONIC ENTITIES AND BIOLOGICAL ANOMALIES. EXPECT INCREASED AGGRESSION IN SURROUNDING ZONES.]

  More monsters would come. Stronger ones. The Shack had gone from a cold mystery to a glowing beacon—and it would draw things desperate for warmth or power.

  And yet, not all of the Core’s effects were dangerous.

  [ADDITIONAL FUNCTION DETECTED – CORE RADIANCE AURA]

  [GRADUAL RECOVERY ZONE ACTIVATED – HEALS MINOR INJURIES, FATIGUE, AND NON-FATAL INJURIES]

  It wasn’t a miracle cure, but it helped. Scratches closed quicker. Sore muscles relaxed. People slept deeper and woke up less cold, less tired. It turned the Shack into more than just a food stop—it was a place to recover, even if only slightly.

  And according to a final note buried in the system logs, the Crimson Core’s potential was far from tapped:

  [CRIMSON CORE POTENTIAL: LONG-TERM EVOLUTIONARY NODE DETECTED]

  [WARNING: POWER CAPACITY AT 3% – FUNCTIONAL AS MINIATURE STAR IF STABILIZED]

  [POTENTIAL USE CASES: ADVANCED POWER GRID, SELF-SUSTAINING BASE MODULE, LIFE-SUPPORT ECOSYSTEM]

  [NOTE: CORE WILL EVOLVE IN TANDEM WITH TRUCK UPGRADES. HIGHER TIERS WILL RESULT IN STRONGER ENERGY PULSES.]

  [DANGER: THE STRONGER THE CORE, THE STRONGER THE DEMONS IT WILL ATTRACT.]

  Kenji raised an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me this thing could eventually run my whole truck, power a base, and grow vegetables if I play nice?”

  [YES. PLEASE DO NOT FEED IT TRASH.]

  [FOOTNOTE: GIFT COURTESY OF THE GODS – YOU’RE WELCOME, SNACK LORD.]**

  Kenji rubbed his chin. “So… heat, minor healing, and a monster spotlight. Guess that’s balanced… in a ‘screw you’ kind of way.”

  Snow that touched the Shack’s roof melted slightly. The howling wind dulled in the radius around it.

  Kenji stared upward through the Shack’s ceiling viewport and muttered, “So now I’ve got a glowing target above my head. Fantastic.”—there had been confetti, a mocking fanfare, and one disturbing can labeled “Kenji’s Party Slop?.”

  But this time, the upgrade announcement arrived with little more than a soft chime.

  [SYSTEM NOTICE: UPGRADE COMPLETE]

  [NEW MODULE INSTALLED: CORE EFFICIENCY SUBROUTINE ALPHA]

  [ADDITIONAL FEATURES UNLOCKED: MINOR STRUCTURAL EXPANSION, INTERIOR LAYOUT OPTIMIZATION]

  [CRIMSON CORE REACTIVITY DETECTED – CURRENT ENERGY LEVEL: STABLE]

  [WARNING: CORE PULSE MAY INCREASE DETECTION RANGE]

  Kenji stared at the console. “That’s it?”

  [DID YOU WANT AN EXPLOSION, SNACK LORD?]

  “No, I want heat that doesn’t flicker like a dying toaster.”

  [INTERIOR COMFORT MODULE: 17% IMPROVEMENT. STOP WHINING.]

  The Shack didn’t transform into a flying fortress. No massive guns. No meat-based auto-cooks. Instead, a subtle hum filled the walls. The lights stabilized. The floor panels leveled. And at the back of the Shack, a sealed compartment unlatched with a hiss.

  Kenji wandered over, coffee mug in hand. Inside was a narrow chamber, gleaming with unused system ports and labeled in minimalist script: “Modular Expansion Bay.”

  It looked practical. Nothing fancy. Just useful.

  Lira peeked in behind him. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

  “Nope. System’s calling it an optimization.”

  Kenji nodded. “Sort of. It’s subtle this time. We got a closet and better lights.”

  Lira crossed her arms. “No new defenses? No upgrades to the turret? No flavor unlocks?”

  Kenji shrugged. “Apparently comfort’s the new priority.”

  [MODULE NOTE: STRUCTURE NOW EMITS LOW-LEVEL ENERGY SIGNATURE DURING OPERATION. DETECTABLE AT RANGE.]

  Kenji’s mug paused halfway to his lips.

  “…What.”

  [SIGNATURE AMPLIFIED BY CRIMSON CORE. PASSIVE PULSE MAY ATTRACT ATTENTION. YOU’RE WELCOME.]

  Kenji slowly set the mug down.

  “Of course. Of course it does.”

  Outside, miles away in the snow-blasted distance, something stirred beneath the ice. A shape, large and hungry, turned toward the Shack.

  Kenji didn’t know it yet, but the world had just noticed him again.

  And this time, it wasn’t coming for soup.

  The console beeped again.

  [EVOLUTION PATH OPTIONS UNLOCKED – TRUCK TIER II READY FOR SELECTION]

  [DISPLAYING COMPATIBLE CONFIGURATIONS BASED ON CURRENT MODULES AND CRIMSON CORE INTEGRATION]

  Kenji blinked. “Wait—this wasn’t mentioned before.”

  [YOU DIDN’T ASK. ENJOY YOUR MENU, SNACK LORD.]

  End of chapter.