All Chapters of Reborn With Infinite Supplies System in Apocalypse: Chapter 11
- Chapter 20
46 chapters
Chapter 11 - Weapons Unlock
The first gunshot echoed through the ruins like a lie.Too loud. Too desperate. Fired by someone who believed noise still meant authority.I crouched on the rooftop across from the sports complex and watched the chaos unfold exactly as I had predicted. The barricades had failed. The boys’ group was breaking apart from the inside, panic shredding whatever formation they’d pretended to have.Zombies poured in through the gaps like water finding cracks.I haven’t moved yet.Timing mattered.A man fell near the entrance, pipe slipping from his hands as three infected descended on him. Screams ripped through the air, raw and animal. The girls who had followed the boys stumbled backwards, faces pale, mouths open in disbelief.This was the moment hope died.The system pulsed in my peripheral vision.Combat Authority detected.Exclusive User Privilege confirmed.Weapon Module unlocked.A second panel slid open beside it, crisp and precise.Available Arsenal:Handguns × UnlimitedAmmunition ×
12. Reputation
Tanya laughed loudly on purpose.Sound still meant something on the girls’ campus. It carried. It gathered attention. It told people where confidence lived—or where it pretended to.“So that’s it?” she said, voice sharp as glass. “One boy with a gun and suddenly everyone’s a believer?”A few girls shifted uncomfortably. Others watched her with thinly veiled relief. Tanya said the things people wanted to say but were too afraid to own.Kyle.His name had become a pressure point and whispered with hunger. Spat with resentment. Wrapped in fear, curiosity, and something dangerously close to reverence.Tanya refused all of it.“He’s not a saviour,” she continued, pacing near the fountain. “He’s a thief who got lucky. Hoarding food while people die and calling it a strategy. Pathetic.”Someone muttered, “He saved them.”“Please,” Tanya scoffed. “Anyone with weapons could’ve done that.”She didn’t believe it. Not fully. But belief wasn’t the point.Reputation was.If Kyle became untouchable,
13. Emotions Feed the World
I stopped thinking of food as food.That shift happened quietly, somewhere between Tanya kneeling and the system’s soft confirmation hum. Hunger still existed, but it had become background noise, like wind outside a sealed room. What mattered now was input and output. Cause and effect.Emotion and reward.I returned to Paradise not to eat, but to think.The silence there welcomed me like a held breath. The waiter stood exactly where I’d left him, hands folded, eyes empty. The shelves were still full. The water is still clear. Abundance untouched, waiting behind rules that no longer felt mysterious.I summoned the panel.It appeared instantly, obedient, familiar now.I didn’t ask for supplies.I asked for data.“Display Emotional Function Point log,” I said.Lines of text unfolded in precise columns. Names. Emotional classifications. Yield values. Time stamps.I read them all.Fear: Significant.Humiliation: High.Gratitude: Moderate.Anger: Moderate.Restraint: Low.Submission: Variab
14. The First Invitation
I didn’t think he would choose me.When my name left Kyle’s mouth, it felt like a mistake—one that I hadn’t realised was wrong yet.“Nandini,” he said, calm, precise. “You’re coming with me.”The courtyard went quiet.Not the tense quiet of fear, but the stunned kind, where people pause because their expectations have just been denied. I felt eyes turn toward me, measuring, comparing. Some were confused. Some resentful. A few were relieved that it wasn’t them.I stood there with my hands clasped in front of me, my mind oddly blank.“Why her?” someone whispered. Loud enough to be heard.I wondered the same thing.I wasn’t the prettiest. That was Aarohi.I wasn’t the coldest. That was Rhea.I wasn’t the richest or loudest or sharpest-tongued.I was just… there.Helping when I could. Sharing water when it still existed. Sitting beside girls who cried and saying nothing, because sometimes words made it worse.Kyle didn’t explain himself. He never did.He turned and walked, and somehow my
15. The Truth
I stood alone in Paradise after Nandini left.The door had sealed behind her without sound, restoring the space to its original stillness. The waiter returned to his place, hands folded, gaze unfocused. The shelves remained full. The lights are steady. Nothing here reacted to what had just happened.Except for the system.I didn’t summon the panel right away.I needed to sit with the afterimage of her presence, with the discomfort it had left behind. It was unfamiliar. Annoying. Not pain exactly, but a pressure behind the ribs, like something unfinished.She hadn’t begged.Hadn’t performed.Hadn’t broken.Worse, she hadn’t optimised.She had offered to share when she had every reason not to.And the system had responded.Not loudly. Not generously. But enough to matter.That was the problem.I finally called the interface.It appeared instantly.Emotional Function Log Updated.Subject: Nandini.Primary Emotion: Voluntary Sacrifice.Secondary Emotion: Moral Continuity.Yield: Low to Mo
16. They Call Him a Devil
They didn’t say his name at first.Names made things real, and no one wanted that. So they whispered instead—shapes without edges, fear without proof. Stories passed mouth to mouth like contraband, growing sharper every time they changed hands.By the time they reached me, he was no longer a person.He was a thing.“They say he makes girls kneel.”“They say he enjoys watching them break.”“They say he smiles when they cry.”I listened without reacting, arms folded tight against my chest, back pressed to the cold wall of the lecture hall that had become our shelter. The air inside was stale again. Hunger had returned quietly, like it always did—no alarms, no drama. Just the slow tightening in the stomach, the dull ache behind the eyes.The whispers fed on that ache.Someone said he was worse than the zombies because at least the dead were honest. They only wanted flesh. Kyle wanted something else.Your dignity.Your fear.Your choice.I didn’t interrupt them. I rarely did.Being the ic
17. A Meeting Without Food
I announced it without ceremony.No stage. No threats. No spectacle.Just a single sentence, spoken calmly in the open corridor where voices carried and rumours multiplied faster than truth.“For the next twenty-four hours,” I said, “there will be no food. No water. No exceptions.”Silence hit first.Not outrage. Not panic.Silence—the kind where people don’t immediately understand what they’ve just lost.Then the sound came back all at once.“What?”“You can’t do that.”“Is this a joke?”I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and walked away before the questions could harden into pleas. The system didn’t interrupt me. No warnings. No resistance.That alone confirmed it was possible.Back inside Paradise, the door sealed behind me, muting the chaos outside. The waiter remained motionless, as if the world beyond didn’t exist.I didn’t ask for anything.I sat.Minutes passed.Then the first notification appeared.Emotional Function Points acquired: Confusion.Yield: Low.I nodded slightly
18. Pride Is Louder Than Hunger
I had never been ignored in my life.Even before the world ended, people listened when I spoke. Money did that. Confidence did that. The certainty that you belonged somewhere higher than the rest of the room did that. In the old world, my name opened doors. In this one, it still carried weight—at least among the girls who hadn’t yet bent their backs or lowered their eyes.So when I climbed onto the overturned desk in the central hall, they looked up.Not all of them. Some were too tired. Some are too hungry. But enough.“That’s enough,” I said, my voice sharp, cutting through the low murmurs and the sound of shallow breathing. “We’re not doing this anymore.”A few heads lifted. A few eyes narrowed.“Doing what?” someone asked hoarsely.“Feeding him,” I snapped. “Feeding his system. His games. His need to watch us crawl.”A ripple went through the room. Anger, recognition, relief. I felt it catch, like a spark finding dry grass.“He’s turned us into workers,” I continued. “Clean this,
19. The Wrong Choice
I told myself it was temporary.That was the lie I held onto as we slipped out through the broken service gate at the far edge of campus, five of us moving quietly, shoulders hunched, breaths shallow. Temporary protection. Temporary shelter. Temporary distance from him.Kyle.Saying his name in my head felt like touching a bruise.The girls behind me trusted me because they always had. Because before the world ended, people listened when I spoke. Campus beauty was a shallow title, but it came with expectation. Confidence. Direction.They believed I knew where I was going.I did not.The boys camp was three buildings over, past a courtyard choked with overturned benches and dried blood stains. We moved quickly, stepping over debris, flinching at every distant sound. Zombies roamed farther out now, drawn to movement, to noise, to hope.But the boys had promised protection.We had heard it whispered in the halls before the lockdown tightened. That they had weapons. That they had numbers.
20. Men Who Want to Be Heroes
They came in a group.Not quietly. Not cautiously.They came loud, shoulders squared, voices raised before they were even close enough to see me clearly. I heard them first from inside Paradise, the sound bleeding through the barrier like pressure against glass.Anger had a tone. So did performance.I stepped out before they reached the courtyard, letting the door seal behind me. The open space amplified their noise, turning it into something reckless.Five boys. No, men, they would have insisted. Most of them were familiar faces from before the collapse. Class representatives. Sports captains. The kind who had been used to being listened to.Each of them carried something sharp.Knives. A broken pipe. One had a metal rod scavenged from a bedframe. None of it was enough to make me tense.What caught my attention was their posture.They weren’t here to fight.They were here to be seen.“You,” the one in front said, pointing at me. His hand shook slightly, though he tried to hide it. “W