LOSS System: Last Store Standing

As Jack watched the distant wasteland, the system’s voice suddenly sounded in his mind.

“Human, emergency mission issued,” the system said.

“Objective: resolve the current threat within twenty-four hours.

“Failure penalty: one resource previously converted into an unlimited supply will be randomly revoked.

“Success reward: basic supply permissions will partially unlock. Megan will receive one opportunity to choose one resource currently available in the convenience store and convert it into an unlimited supply.”

Jack hadn’t expected an emergency mission to appear now, much less for the system to classify the approaching group as a threat before they had even arrived.

But something about this mission was different.

Compared with the previous emergency missions, the failure penalty was almost laughable. Those had threatened Jack’s life or the destruction of the convenience store. This time, he would only lose one unlimited resource.

The reward made the system’s intentions even more obvious.

“LOSS, what are you trying to do?” Jack asked in his mind. “Is this your way of making up for what happened to Megan?”

The system ignored him and announced the remaining time.

“Mission countdown: twenty-three hours and fifty-five minutes.”

Jack chuckled and turned his attention back to the trading post.

“Vane, come here.”

Once Vane joined him, Jack lowered his voice.

“Tell everyone to stay away from the trading post for now. Have Mort get ready, but make sure he stays out of sight until we need him.”

Vane seemed surprised by the order, but he didn’t ask for an explanation. He nodded and went to notify the others.

Some time later, fourteen figures appeared over the low rise in the distance.

They approached in a loose group without carrying any supplies. A few of them held stones, casually tossing them into the air and catching them again as they walked.

As the distance closed, they saw Jack, Megan, and Elias waiting in front of the trading post—and the supplies stored inside the unfinished building.

The man leading the group made no attempt to hide the greed in his eyes. He strode straight toward them as though the place already belonged to him.

When he reached the trading post, he gave the half-finished building a quick once-over before raising his chin at the three people standing in front of him.

“Who’s in charge here? Get out here and talk.”

Jack was about to step forward, but Elias caught his arm and went ahead alone.

“What do you want?”

The man laughed, and the others behind him joined in.

“We heard you’ll trade food for anything—even rocks.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Several of his men raised the stones in their hands, while one casually tossed his onto the ground in front of the trading post.

“Well, we brought rocks.” The man looked back at Elias with a mocking smile. “What? You don’t welcome customers?”

Elias didn’t even look at the stones.

“So you came here looking for trouble?”

“Trouble?”

The man immediately put on a serious expression, as if Elias had just made a completely unreasonable accusation.

“No. We came here to trade. Since when does that count as causing trouble?”

The leader snatched a stone from one of his men and tossed it lightly in his palm.

“We spent two whole days getting here. Twenty loaves of bread and twenty bottles of water for one stone. That’s more than fair, don’t you think?”

The men behind him burst out laughing.

Several survivors standing nearby could barely hide their anger. One of them finally spoke up.

“That’s not a trade. It’s extortion.”

The laughter stopped.

The leader slowly turned toward him.

“You got a problem with that?”

The survivor faltered under his stare.

“N-No.”

Then the leader noticed the handcart beside them, piled with the food and water they had just received.

“Well, look at that. Seems like you got quite a haul.”

Still holding the stone, he strode over to the handcart.

“Since you don’t have a problem, let’s make a trade too.”

He tossed the stone onto the cart.

“The stone is yours. Everything on the cart is mine.”

Before the survivors could respond, he waved his men over.

“Keep an eye on the cart. We’ll take it with us when we leave.”

His men immediately crowded around the survivors, cutting them off from the handcart.

“Stop!”

Elias’s voice cut through the commotion.

The leader turned slowly and looked him over with open contempt.

“What? You planning to stand up for them?”

He pointed at the survivors surrounded by his men and laughed.

“With just the three of you?”

The rest of the group immediately joined in.

“Stay out of this, old man, or we’ll beat you down with them!”

“Exactly! Know your place before you start shouting at our leader!”

“Boss, stop wasting time with them. Kill anyone who gets in our way and take all the supplies!”

That was enough for Jack.

These people weren’t traders. They were nothing more than thugs who preyed on the weak and became fearless whenever they had numbers on their side.

Jack turned toward the man who had threatened to kill anyone who resisted, then leaned closer to Megan and lowered his voice.

“Find Mort and tell him to come over. Then find Vane and have him gather everyone else. The women and children stay behind. Have the others come to the trading post in separate groups. Don’t let them all show up at once.”

Megan left without asking any questions.

Jack turned back to the man who had threatened to kill anyone who stood in their way and walked straight toward him.

“Who did you just say you were going to kill?”

The man hadn’t expected Jack to confront him so directly. Startled, he glanced at the others around him. With all his companions watching, that moment of hesitation quickly gave way to anger.

“You little—”

Smack!

Jack’s palm struck his face before he could finish.

The sharp crack silenced the trading post. The man’s head snapped to the side, and for a moment, he could only stand there.

Jack struck him again with the back of his hand.

Smack!

“I asked who you were going to kill.”

The man staggered back a step. Before he could answer, another slap landed across his face.

“Speak. Who were you going to kill?”

The leader finally snapped out of his shock.

“You’re fucking dead!”

He raised a hand, ready to order his men forward, when a low, raspy voice came from behind the trading post.

“Who’s causing trouble?”

“Who the fuck said that?”

Still furious, the leader cursed before turning around. The moment he saw who was approaching, however, it was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown straight into his face. Every trace of anger vanished, and he went rigid where he stood.

Mort came toward them with his back hunched, dragging his distinctive chained hammer behind him.

The heavy hammerhead carved a trail through the sand and gravel, while the chain scraped across the ground with every step. The sound wasn’t loud, but one by one, the men preparing to rush Jack stopped where they were.

The moment the leader recognized Mort, the last of his anger disappeared.

Mort stopped in front of him and slowly raised his head.

“I’m the one who said it.”

His cold gaze settled on the leader.

“You got a problem with that?”

Sweat broke out across the leader’s forehead.

“N-No.”

What was Locksmith Mort doing here?

This was supposed to be nothing more than a small trading post that had appeared not long ago. How could it possibly have anything to do with the Locksmith?

“Move.”

Mort’s sudden growl made the leader stumble back several steps, nearly crashing into the men behind him. Before he could recover, Mort had already walked past him and reached Jack.

Jack was still dealing with the man who had threatened them.

“What happened?” Mort asked.

Jack ignored the question and struck the man again.

“I asked who you were going to kill.”

When Jack raised his hand once more, Mort caught him by the wrist.

Jack looked over.

Mort shook his head.

“Don’t dirty your hands.”

Only then did Jack stop. He flexed his tingling hand while the thug stumbled back, clutching his swollen face. Every trace of his earlier arrogance was gone.

Jack watched him for a moment, then turned to Mort.

“How did you usually deal with people like this?”

Mort swept a cold gaze over the group.

“Kill them.”

The thug’s legs gave out beneath him.

He dropped to the ground and scrambled backward, too terrified to care about the pain in his face.

“Don’t kill me! I was just talking! I didn’t do anything! I swear!”

The leader knew they had picked the wrong target.

But all thirteen of his men were watching. If he backed down now, none of them would ever take him seriously again.

And he still wasn’t willing to walk away from the supplies inside the trading post.

Forcing down his fear of Mort, he raised his voice.

“Let him go, or you’ll regret it!”

Mort turned toward him with a cold smile.

“And what exactly are you going to do?”

The leader glanced back at his men. The whole group had gathered, and the sight gave him just enough courage to keep going.

“There are fourteen of us. How many do you have?” he demanded. “So what if you’re Locksmith Mort? You think you can take all of us by yourself?”

The words seemed to steady him. He straightened his back, trying to recover some of his earlier swagger.

“If you know what’s good for you, hand over the supplies. Give us enough, and we’ll let today’s little misunderstanding go.”

His grin returned.

“Otherwise, we’ll stay right here. Let’s see who still dares to come trade with you once we’re waiting outside.”

The survivors beside the handcart went pale.

They knew it wasn’t an empty threat. This group would happily stay near the trading post, waiting to rob anyone who came or went.

Jack laughed.

“You still haven’t figured out what’s happening, have you?”

The leader glared at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Whether you leave or not is no longer up to you.”

Footsteps sounded from behind the trading post.

Cass appeared first, followed by Vane and Gordon. Then Thomas, Harvey, Reed, and the others began arriving from different directions, coming in separate groups just as Jack had arranged.

Within moments, the nearly empty area around the trading post was filled with people.

The leader’s face stiffened.

He clearly wanted to back down, but with all thirteen of his men watching, he forced himself to hold his ground.

“So you found a few more people. What difference does that make?” he demanded. “If we decide to leave, you really think you can stop us?”

He didn’t wait for Jack to answer.

“Let’s go!”

His men had already lost every trace of their earlier swagger. They immediately released the survivors they had surrounded and hurried after their leader. The thug on the ground scrambled to his feet as well, terrified of being left behind.

“Did I say you could leave?”

Jack’s voice stopped them from behind.

The leader hesitated for only a moment before continuing forward without looking back, pretending he hadn’t heard.

Jack glanced at Megan and gave her a slight signal.

She understood at once.

Megan drew the revolver, raised it toward the sky, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The gunshot tore across the wasteland.

All fourteen of them stopped dead. Not one dared to take another step.

The leader slowly turned around. Whatever defiance he had left vanished the moment he saw the revolver in Megan’s hand.

“You… you have a gun?”

Jack watched him for a moment before taking off his coat and tossing it aside, revealing the submachine gun hanging against his body.

The leader went pale.

He might have been willing to gamble against a single revolver, but the sight of the submachine gun crushed what little courage he had left.

Jack walked up to him with a mocking smile.

“You were right. We have guns.”

He patted the submachine gun.

“And more than one.”

Sweat rolled down the leader’s forehead. He stumbled back half a step, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost all its earlier confidence.

“This is all a misunderstanding.”

He forced an awkward smile.

“We were only joking. Please, just let us go. We’ll leave right now, and we’ll never come back.”

The thirteen men behind him had gone just as silent. None of them dared to make another move.

The survivors beside the handcart finally recovered from the shock. Seeing the same men who had been threatening everyone moments ago now standing there and begging to be released gave them a certain sense of satisfaction.

At the same time, they had become far more cautious around Jack and the others.

Elias noticed the change.

Elias didn’t try to explain. He simply returned to the trading post, took out several cans of beef, and brought them to the survivors.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

He held out the cans.

“Please take these as compensation for the trouble.”

The survivors immediately tried to refuse.

“You don’t have to do that. None of this was your fault. They were the ones who—”

“Take them,” Elias said gently. “It’s all right.”

They tried to refuse again, but Elias insisted. In the end, they accepted the cans.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Everything is under control now, so you can head back without worrying.” Elias stepped aside to let them pass. “And you’ll always be welcome here.”

The survivors thanked him again before checking the ropes on their handcart and making sure none of their newly acquired supplies were missing.

They soon left the trading post, though even after putting some distance behind them, they continued glancing back.

Elias watched until they were safely on their way, then returned to Jack without sparing the leader another look.

“What should we do with them?”

The question sent a chill through the leader.

Jack slowly turned toward him, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.

The leader shifted uneasily under his gaze.

After letting the silence stretch for a moment, Jack finally spoke.

“Since you were so determined to stay, you can stay here forever.”