Apocalypse Rebirth: My Gold-Eating System

nt a perfect canvas for her racing thoughts. One million dollars. The current price of gold was just under tw

the scent of decay filling her lungs, the weight of gravity settling on her shoulders.

ugh the gloom, and searched for the largest precious metals dealer in Manhattan. Sh

cuff of her trench coat and left the old house, locking the door behind her

oanna pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. A man in a tailored suit approached her, his smile polished and practiced. But his eyes-his eyes flickered over her simpl

like a faint insult, his tone dripping with c

es. She pulled up her mobile banking

d on the display

he color rose slightly in his cheeks. When he spoke again, his voice had shifted. The

Right this way. P

nd the wire transfer confirmed, he presented her with a heavy, black briefcase. She clicked it open. Inside, nestl

w blocks away: a dingy, graffiti-covered public restroom in a small park, the kind of place no one looked at twice. The walls were covered in layers of spray-painted tags, the floor sticky

nfectant stinging her nose. She placed the heavy briefcas

solved into the pristi

or. She opened the briefcase and placed the gold bars onto a s

s wavered, then melted like wax, transforming into a shimmering, liquid light t

ic chime echoed t

s met. Zone unlocke

ssed and slid open with s

led with endless aisles of towering, empty metal shelves. At the very entrance, where the first s

ack and beverage items," the system explained. "As a bonus for your first un

A large red button on its console

f chips, cases of soda. But there were also several gray, blank spaces. The wh

Click.

d on a g

h large, cheerful lett

uth slightly agape. She blinked. The words did not change. "T

ess laugh that echoed off the white walls. Even the universe, it seemed, wanted to remind her that luck was not on

o the same mental box where she kept her fear and he

briefcase onto one of the shelves. It vanished instantly. She thought about

n the last. The system responded without hesitation, without lag. It was like extending her own arm, like think

as a rock on the other. The dog-a skeletal thing with ribs poking through matted fur-had sunk its teeth into her forearm before she could snatch the prize. She had walked away with bare

. The gnawing,

g. Not a single empty space would remain. Not one. She would stockpile enough food to feed an ar

he splashed cold water on her face, looking at her reflection in the cracked mi

on her phone again.

lready dwindling. It wasn't enough. Not for the fortress she needed

idea began to f

llapse. Debts would become meaningless. Credit scores

ted the poor for generations, bleeding them dry with interest rates and hidden fees. In two month

t lid, the briefcase at her feet

t credit lines. Unsecured personal loans. Anything t

ad even finished loading. Loan application. Personal information. Income verification-she used the million-dollar

n-dollar deposit, and the deed to a house

ce, three times-then erupted into a symphony of vibrations, each notification a new approva

, your loan has

be available w

valued

checkmarks and cheerful confetti animation

m thought they had found a fresh lamb to fleece. They had no idea the