He was half-sitting, half-leaning against a stack of salvaged blankets in the dim corner of the cramped interior. Beyond him, half-disassembled drone parts and crates of food cluttered the floors, forming makeshift partitions. The hush of whirring servos and the faint hum of the recycler seemed oddly soothing.
Mirelle was on her knees in front of him, hands sliding under the edge of his shirt. She glanced up with a smirk when he stirred.
“You’re awake, Master.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep. “Wish I could say the same for the rest of my body.”
Mirelle chuckled softly, pressing closer. She moved in a slow, teasing rhythm, clearly taking pleasure in drawing out every second. Kenji’s eyelids fluttered; despite the uncomfortable lumps of salvage crates around them, he found a measure of relief in her touch.
He tried to relax into it—but a flicker of movement drew his gaze to the opposite side of the Shack. Just beyond a pile of battered storage boxes, he caught a glimpse of Lira. She was crouched low, peering through a narrow gap, eyes wide and face flushed. She hadn’t announced her presence.
She was spying.
Kenji almost laughed. Instead, he reached out and tugged a nearby scrap of cloth to block her line of sight. As if on instinct, Lira darted backward, out of view—but she didn’t actually leave. He could sense her still hovering, still watching.
“Something funny, Master?” Mirelle asked, tilting her head.
“Nah.” He ran a hand over his face. “Just noticing how small this place is getting. No privacy.”
Mirelle gave a playful hum of agreement but didn’t pause her ministrations. Kenji forced his mind back to the moment. He had bigger problems than a nosy fourteen-year-old, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t grate on him.
If Lira thinks she’s being subtle, he thought, she’s dead wrong.
He closed his eyes, trying to let the rising heat wash away his annoyance. The Shack was never quiet—there was always a beep, a drone passing by, a faint roar of wind outside—but in that moment, Kenji managed to tune it out, focusing on Mirelle’s slow, insistent hands.
His breath caught in his throat when she shifted, pressing a final teasing kiss to his abdomen. She knew exactly how to test his patience—and he kind of appreciated that she didn’t rush.
“You’re in a better mood than usual,” Mirelle teased, trailing her fingers along his torso.
“Don’t push it,” he muttered, ignoring the tremor in his voice.
Behind the crates, Lira stifled a gasp. She probably hadn’t expected things to get so intense. Kenji stifled a frustrated sigh. He really needed to talk to her about boundaries—again.
But that was a problem for later.
“Don’t stop,” he ordered Mirelle, half-lidding his eyes.
She nodded in that obedient, yet sly way she had, and obeyed—pushing him just enough to the brink of discomfort, in the best possible way. Kenji arched slightly, half-hard cursing the piles of metal and parts that made this corner feel claustrophobic.
The world vanished for a moment, reduced to that single point of contact—until the console beeped, abrupt and loud.
Once.
Twice.
Kenji felt Mirelle stiffen. She pulled back, glancing over her shoulder at the Shack’s central monitor.
“You can ignore it,” she murmured, voice dripping with temptation.
Kenji cursed under his breath, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, but no.” He pushed her aside and sat up fully, frustration boiling under his skin. “Duty calls.”
Mirelle gave him a teasing smirk, but her eyes narrowed with clear annoyance. “Can we pick this up later?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Depends on how big a headache I get.”
He tucked his clothes back into something resembling decent order, ignoring the faint burn of unfulfilled desire, and climbed over a few stray crates. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Lira sliding silently away, flushing with embarrassment at being so obviously caught. She disappeared into the dim recesses of the Shack without a word.
Next time, he thought, I lock the door—if I ever get a door.
He trudged over to the main console. The beep repeated, short and direct.
[ALERT: VEHICLE DETECTED – UNREGISTERED SNOW SLED APPROACHING] Range: 0.9 km Speed: Moderate ID: Unknown
Kenji inhaled deeply, forcing himself to focus. “Great. Another early-morning visitor.”
Mirelle was already standing, adjusting her top and running a hand through her hair. “Think it’s just a trader?”
“Probably,” Kenji said. “Or some idiot who thinks they can do better than the last group who tried to rob us.”
He tapped a command, bringing up the Shack’s external cameras. Sure enough, a single snow sled cut across the horizon, bearing a handful of figures heavily bundled in thermal gear. Could be merchants, or explorers, or wannabe bandits.
Either way, he had to address them.
As Mirelle sauntered over with a parting wink, Kenji shook his head, still feeling the tingle of her earlier efforts. “Never a dull moment…”
Or a private one, he added silently, eyes sliding toward the spot where Lira had crouched a minute ago.
He braced himself for whatever was coming, forcing his mind to shift gears.
Pleasure could wait. Survival couldn’t.
Kenji pressed a few buttons on the Shack’s console, activating the front camera feed. Through the swirling white haze, a snow sled came into view—rusted plating, mismatched repairs, and a sputtering engine coughing thick exhaust.
“Distance: point-nine kilometers,” the system intoned.
He exhaled, still feeling the lingering frustration from his interrupted morning with Mirelle. One day, he mused, maybe I’ll actually enjoy a full session without a knock on the hatch.
Mirelle was beside him, her hair still tousled. She tilted her head in silent question—did he want her to go out there first? He shook his head. Better to handle this personally.
From the other side of the cramped interior, Lira peeked around a stack of crates. Her face was still pink from earlier, but curiosity burned in her eyes. Kenji ignored her for now, focusing on the console.
He switched on the Shack’s external PA, voice calm. “Approaching sled, state your purpose. If you’re here to trade, keep it civil. We don’t want any trouble, and I bet you don’t either.”
A moment’s static, then a crackling reply: “We’re merchants from the West. Got salvage. Heard you… had food.”
Kenji eyed Mirelle. She gave a little shrug—standard greeting. Could be harmless, could be fishy. He flicked the turret’s safety on rather than off, signaling caution but not aggression.
A few minutes later, the sled rolled to a stop at the Shack’s perimeter. Three figures hopped off—two men and a woman, each bundled in patched thermal coats. Their eyes went wide at the sight of Flanksteak Vengeance?, who stood like a statue near the front hatch. Frost clung to his bare skin, and dried blood streaked his arms from the previous night’s demon kills. He was intimidating without lifting a finger.
One of the newcomers swallowed hard. “Uh… we come in peace?”
Kenji stepped out, letting the Shack’s residual warmth follow him. “That’s good,” he said, voice calm. “We can talk business.”
They glanced nervously at Flanksteak, but he made no move. The woman cleared her throat. “Look, we got some salvage—old drone parts, a busted generator, some scrap panels. We heard you trade food for salvage.”
Kenji folded his arms, appraising the rusted crate they opened. Corroded metal, broken circuits, typical odds and ends. “Not bad,” he said neutrally. “Anything else?”
The woman nodded. “We also got, uh… a snow crawler. It runs, but it’s a little beat-up. Too risky hauling it to the Bastion, so we figured maybe you’d be interested.”
A flicker of interest crossed Kenji’s face. A snow crawler—just what he needed for a trip underground. He did his best not to show excitement.
“Let’s see it.”
They led him to the back of the sled, where a partially disassembled snow crawler rested. Ice-caked treads, cracked cockpit glass, chipped armor plating. The system’s passive scan flickered across Kenji’s HUD:
[Snow Crawler: Semi-Functional]
- Fuel Cell Type: Low
- Top Speed: Moderate
- Armor Grade: Tier 2
- Use: Snow Travel
Kenji gave a low hum. “And what are you hoping to get for this?”
The smaller man—clearly the talker—cleared his throat. “We heard your canned food is top-tier. Actually edible. We could use a decent supply, maybe some med packs if you can spare them.”
Kenji mulled it over. “Alright. Mirelle, check our storage.”
She gave him a sweet smile, then headed inside. Flanksteak remained silent as ever, drawing uneasy glances from the newcomers but not a word of threat from Kenji.
Within a minute, Mirelle reemerged carrying a small container with about a dozen of the Shack’s branded cans plus a couple of “Kenji’s Quick-Fix Boo-Boo Patches?” med packs. The traders exchanged relieved looks.
“That enough?” Kenji asked, tone even.
The merchants nodded, more than happy with the offer. Kenji watched them carefully—no signs of deceit. He exhaled a subtle breath.
“Deal,” he said. “I’ll take the crawler and that busted generator you mentioned. Food and meds for you.”
They hesitated only a second before nodding enthusiastically. “Sure. Thank you.”
In short order, both parties wrapped up the trade. Mirelle loaded the canned meals onto the sled while the traders helped Kenji’s builder drone haul the crawler parts into the Shack. It took some maneuvering—space inside was already at a premium—but the promise of a new vehicle outweighed the headache.
As they finished, one of the men glanced at Kenji with a nervous smile. “Appreciate the fair trade. Didn’t think we’d get such a good deal.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Kenji shrugged. “You gave me something I needed.”
They offered a quick wave, then hopped back onto their sled and rumbled off, disappearing into the snowy wasteland.
Mirelle handed Kenji a brief manifest listing the crawler, generator, and salvage scraps they’d acquired. “Not bad,” she said, “especially if that crawler’s fixable.”
“It will be,” Kenji replied, eyeing its rusted plating. “I’ve got plans for it.”
He turned to Flanksteak, who still stood near the hatch. “We’re heading underground soon. Gear up.”
The supersoldier gave no nod of acknowledgment, but Kenji knew the command was understood.
From behind a nearby crate, Lira peeked with a concerned frown. Why was Kenji so intent on going below? She bit her lip, torn between wanting to approach him and her lingering embarrassment. In the end, she did nothing, slipping away deeper into the Shack’s maze of salvage.
Kenji set his jaw, ignoring her retreat. His mind was on the underground bastion—on the possibility of finding a new Astarion candidate. With a fresh crawler, he finally had a reliable way to go searching for compatible recruits.
He touched the battered side of the crawler as the drone settled it into a corner. The Shack creaked, feeling more crowded than ever.
But soon, Kenji thought, I’ll upgrade this place. I have to.
He cast one last glance at Flanksteak’s unmoving figure, then ducked back inside, quietly issuing drone orders to clear a path and store the crawler components for future repairs.
Everything was in motion.
The crawler rattled like it was moments from collapsing entirely.
Kenji sat beside Flanksteak, who was wedged awkwardly behind the controls, his massive frame filling nearly half the cabin. They rumbled through snow-packed terrain toward Bastion 47-K, whose entrance lay hidden behind layers of ice, snow, and rusted metal gates.
Flanksteak’s expression never changed as he drove. Kenji had rigged the Astarion with makeshift armor plates scavenged from drone shells and scrap metal. Straps and bindings held it together, and a crude but lethal cleaver rested on his back. Though the gear looked crude, Flanksteak carried himself as if it were proper armor.
The crawler reached the entrance tunnel, a weathered gateway barely wide enough to pass through. Security systems at the gate flickered dimly—either powered down or long abandoned. The bastion had clearly seen better days.
Inside, moisture dripped down cracked walls, warmed slightly by ventilation ducts choked with dust and grime. People in threadbare clothing paused to stare at the newcomers, their eyes widening at the sight of Flanksteak. The crowd scattered immediately, stepping aside in hushed awe as the massive Astarion marched forward, expression blank and unreadable.
Kenji led Flanksteak toward the deeper markets, descending through rusted ramps and dirty walkways. Beggars and scavengers drew back quietly, recognizing power and danger when they saw it.
At the slave market, Kenji approached a shady, nervous-looking broker. The man eyed Flanksteak warily before turning to Kenji.
"Looking for something specific?" the broker asked carefully, keeping a cautious distance.
"Fully grown male," Kenji answered. "Healthy enough for transport. Other than that, don't care about condition—as long as he's compatible."
The broker nodded, sensing no room for negotiation. "This way."
He led them down a dim passage lined with rusted cages. Inside, prisoners huddled silently. Kenji activated his scanner, moving methodically from cage to cage.
[Compatibility: 4%] [Compatibility: 11%] [Compatibility: 0%]
He frowned, growing impatient. Finally, as they approached a cage near the end of the row, his system lit up green:
[Compatibility: 100% – Match Confirmed]
Inside, a thin, battered young man slumped against the bars. Probably early twenties, gaunt and pale, but definitely a fully grown adult. Good enough. Kenji nodded decisively.
"Him," Kenji said. "What's the price?"
The broker raised an eyebrow. "That one? He's half-dead already. You sure?"
"Perfectly sure," Kenji said coldly. "Price?"
The broker didn't argue further, gladly accepting Kenji’s offer—some canned food and minor trade tokens. Flanksteak silently stepped forward, lifting the unconscious slave as effortlessly like a kid.
Back at the crawler, Flanksteak carefully laid their new acquisition in the rear cargo hold, wrapping him loosely in thermal fabric to survive the cold trip back.
Kenji climbed back into his seat, satisfied. Another Astarion candidate acquired.
Flanksteak wordlessly took the controls again, navigating back through the frozen wasteland toward the Shack. Kenji settled back, already envisioning his next soldier’s rebirth.
Astarion #2
When the crawler finally crested the hill, the Shack appeared through swirling snow—cramped, battered, but oddly comforting in its familiarity. Kenji breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out onto the frozen ground with a stretch.
Flanksteak silently retrieved their unconscious cargo, the young man wrapped loosely in thermal fabric, still limp. Saeko and Elyra stood at the Shack’s entrance, exchanging curious looks at the sight.
“Another one?” Elyra asked, eyebrows raised.
Kenji nodded, pushing past her and heading toward the interior. “Yeah. Get the Minion Spawner? ready. Mirelle, clear the recycler area.”
Mirelle glanced at him briefly, clearly entertained by the ridiculous name the gods had chosen, but hurried to obey without comment. Saeko efficiently directed drones away from the cramped corner, creating enough space for the gleaming cylinder and its tangled mass of cables.
Flanksteak carefully placed the frail man into the pod’s padded interior. Kenji adjusted the unconscious body slightly, ensuring the restraints secured him comfortably.
“You’re getting an upgrade, kid,” Kenji murmured to the still-unconscious slave, stepping back as the pod sealed shut with a mechanical whisper.
The divine branding flickered boldly on the pod’s external monitor, a permanent reminder of celestial mockery:
[Minion Spawner? Activated]
Subject Compatibility: 100%
Genetic Ascension Sequence: Ready
Estimated Conversion Time: 6 Hours
Pod Integrity: Stable
Kenji pressed the confirmation key, and the pod immediately filled with a gentle white mist. Soft vibrations hummed through the Shack as the conversion process began, rhythmic pulses resonating through the metal floor.
Flanksteak stood nearby, completely unmoved by the event, while Mirelle leaned in, her curiosity evident. “Think he’ll turn out as intimidating as the first one?”
Kenji cast a sideways glance at Flanksteak, silently towering above them. “Probably. The pod decides all that. Size and strength aren’t really negotiable—they’re guaranteed perks.”
Kenji exhaled slowly, waiting for the gods’ inevitable naming prank. He didn’t have to wait long. The pod flashed again, displaying bold letters:
[Subject Designation Assigned: Brisket Oblivion?]
Mirelle barely stifled a laugh. Even Kenji felt his lip twitch upward at the absurdity. “Damn gods have too much time on their hands.”
He turned away from the pod, his thoughts shifting back to more immediate concerns. The Shack was clearly at its limit, filled with drones, people, and salvage. Adding another supersoldier was just pushing the boundary further. Lira, half-hidden behind the crates again, watched quietly, her eyes wide with envy and curiosity.
Kenji forced his attention back to the pod. “Mirelle, Saeko—make sure nothing bumps this thing for the next six hours. Drones especially. Clear?”
Both nodded swiftly, immediately ordering curious drones away from the humming pod.
Returning to his seat, Kenji eyed the system readout again—still holding steady at 100% saturation. He tapped the console impatiently, staring at the evolution interface. The Shack desperately needed more space, and soon. Thankfully, the next evolution was right around the corner.
He leaned back, arms folded, muttering under his breath:
“One more giant slab of muscle to squeeze into this tin can. The next upgrade can’t come soon enough.
Shack at Breaking Point
It had only been a few hours since Kenji activated the Minion Spawner?, but the Shack already felt impossibly cramped.
Crates of supplies were stacked against walls in precarious towers, drones hummed irritably around narrow walkways, and the sleeping arrangements had deteriorated into whatever space could be claimed at the moment. Elyra lounged across several storage containers, Saeko was wedged between drone charging modules, and Mirelle leaned uncomfortably against a battered refrigeration unit.
Kenji was half-sitting, half-slouching on his makeshift seat, rubbing his temples as yet another drone beeped angrily while blocked by salvage debris.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “We’re outgrowing this place faster than I thought.”
As if on cue, a drone carrying a piece of broken scrap bumped into another hovering drone, sending both into a noisy, irritating collision. Lira hurried forward, trying to separate them while muttering frustrated curses.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Mirelle said flatly, pushing a dangling cable away from her face. “It’s like we’re stuck inside a tin can full of angry bees.”
Saeko nodded, rubbing tired eyes. “Efficiency is plummeting. Inventory is impossible to track. If we don’t expand soon, something critical is going to break.”
Kenji glanced at the glowing Minion Spawner?, still quietly humming away in the corner. Another supersoldier meant more security, but also significantly less space.
“You’re right,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “We’ve pushed the Shack as far as it can go. It’s time to evolve.”
Lira glanced at him quickly, hopeful excitement flickering across her face. “Finally going to pick the next upgrade?”
He nodded. “System’s been at full saturation since yesterday. It’s ready whenever I am.”
He stood carefully, stepping over scattered crates and drone components, making his way to the console. Even getting to the system interface had become a hassle. Behind him, Flanksteak loomed silently, filling up even more precious space.
Kenji tapped the evolution interface. A soft chime filled the crowded Shack as options appeared clearly before him:
[Drone Hive Tier 2 Evolution Available]
? Structural Expansion: Substantially increases interior living and storage space, adds dedicated drone bays and sleeping quarters.
? Advanced Drone Docks: Improves drone coordination and efficiency, integrates advanced charging modules.
? Command Module Expansion: Enhanced control center and strategic planning area, optimized for tactical operations.
He didn’t hesitate, immediately selecting Structural Expansion. More space was the priority—the rest could wait.
[Selection Confirmed: Structural Expansion]
Evolution beginning in 30 minutes. Shack will enter lockdown for duration (estimated 3 hours). Prepare accordingly.]
Kenji straightened and turned around, raising his voice above the noise and confusion:
“Alright, everyone! Clear a space, pack what’s loose, and prepare yourselves! In half an hour, this place is getting bigger. System lockdown is coming!”
Immediate relief washed over the crowded interior. Elyra jumped off her makeshift bed and started gathering loose gear, Mirelle hurriedly reorganized crates, and Saeko barked orders at drones to create as much clear space as possible.
Kenji watched the chaos with mild amusement, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. Soon, the cramped mess would finally improve. They’d finally have space to breathe.
He cast a glance at Flanksteak, who silently stood nearby, unaffected by the chaos around him.
“Hope you’re comfortable,” Kenji said dryly. “Soon you’ll have some actual room to move.”
The supersoldier didn’t reply, but Kenji swore he saw a flicker of acknowledgement in those cold eyes.
Kenji leaned back, letting out a long, exhausted breath as the chaos around him continued.
The Shack had hit its breaking point.
But finally—finally—relief was on the way
System Trigger
The countdown ended, and a familiar chime echoed through the Shack:
[Lockdown Initiated. Truck Evolution Sequence Activated.]
Kenji steadied himself, gripping the edge of the console. Immediately, the Shack filled with a low, mechanical hum. Floors vibrated, walls shifted, and hidden modules clicked into motion, smoothly rearranging themselves.
The external appearance barely changed—anyone outside would see nothing more than the same battered food truck sitting stubbornly in the frozen wasteland—but inside was a different story entirely.
Kenji watched with satisfaction as walls slowly slid outward, the cramped interior expanding subtly yet dramatically. Spaces emerged where none had existed before, with hidden compartments rotating and locking seamlessly into place. Within minutes, the Shack’s chaotic interior transformed into something resembling an actual home.
At the front, a clean, professional trading counter materialized, neatly separating a storefront stocked with rows of Kenji’s food cans and trade items. Behind this counter, the Shack unfolded into a spacious and comfortable living area—bunks with real mattresses replaced the makeshift sleeping arrangements, storage compartments slid out neatly from the walls, and a dedicated drone docking area quietly hummed to life in the back.
“Well,” Mirelle purred approvingly, leaning over the newly formed counter, “this feels like an actual store now. Fancy.”
Saeko immediately went to inspect the newly organized shelves, sighing happily as she adjusted a can labeled “Kenji’s Apocalypse Chow?”. “Inventory perfection,” she said with quiet satisfaction. “No more scavenger hunts.”
Elyra stretched luxuriously on one of the new bunks, smiling slyly at Kenji. “Definitely an upgrade. No more sleeping with drone parts poking into sensitive places.”
Lira pouted playfully. “I kind of liked being squished. Felt cozy.”
Kenji shook his head, chuckling softly. “Kid, enjoy your new bunk and be grateful you’re not sleeping under a crate anymore.”
Flanksteak merely tilted his head slightly, clearly appreciating the newfound headroom—at least as much as the supersoldier was capable of appreciating anything.
The Shack’s console beeped happily:
[Truck Structural Expansion Complete!]
[New Module Installed: Integrated Drone Bay]
[New Module Installed: Comfortable Sleeping Compartments]
[New Module Installed: Expanded Front Store]
[Storage Capacity Increased: +150%]
[Comfort Level: Apocalypse Luxury Achieved!]
Kenji felt genuine relief as he returned to the console and called up the system summary.
Kenji’s Shack – Status Update
Modules Installed:
? Divine Auto-Turret (1x)
? Resource Recycler
? Drone Hive (Tier 2) – Integrated Drone Bay (NEW)
? Comfortable Sleeping Quarters (NEW)
? Expanded Front Store (NEW)
? Minion Spawner? Pod (Active: Brisket Oblivion? cooking, 2 hours remaining)
Drone Units Active:
? Scavenger: 6
? Builder: 4
? Combat: 5
? Sensor: 3
= 18 Total Drones
Supersoldiers:
? Active: 1 (Flanksteak Vengeance? – Ever intimidating, zero personality)
? In Conversion: 1 (Brisket Oblivion? – Medium rare, nearly ready)
Slaves—Er, Hardworking Team Members:
? Lira: Admin Assistant (Cute, helpful, clingy—zero chance, kid.)
? Elyra: Scout/Combat Support (Flexible in all the best ways.)
? Saeko: Logistics (Making cans and crates look sexier than they should.)
? Mirelle: Trade & Communications (Charmer, tease, and morning distraction.)
Crimson Core Status:
? Energy: 62%
? Biomass: Stable (Feed soon or brace for hangry demons.)
? Recent Activity: Calm (Too calm—stay paranoid.)
? Attraction Level: Moderate (Kenji is always popular—unfortunately, mostly with demons.)
? Environmental Conditions: Blizzard (Colder than a demon’s heart.)
? Interior Conditions: Comfy (Almost too comfy for the apocalypse.)
Kenji’s Total Resources Summary (Since Arrival):
? Food Cans Produced: 1,250
? Cans Traded: 320 (Net +930)
? Drones Manufactured: 18
? Supersoldiers Created: 1 (+1 pending)
? Slaves Acquired: 4
? Modules Unlocked: 6 total (including recent evolution)
Current Inventory:
? Food Cans: 930
? High-Quality Biomass: 175 units
? Salvaged Scrap: 520 kg
? Trade Tokens: 45
? Medical Kits: 12 (Kenji’s Quick-Fix Boo-Boo Patches?)
End of Chapter.