Glacial Monopoly: My Gifts Return Hundredfold

Chapter 3: The Calorie Interrogation

The blinding beam of the LED flashlight pinned the Iceborn scout against the cold concrete of the mezzanine.

For three seconds, the scout’s brain refused to process the reality in front of him. He had expected starving, shivering sheep. Instead, the harsh glare of the flashlight reflected off the pristine, matte-black steel of three military-grade machetes, all held by survivors whose eyes burned with the desperate, territorial rage of the newly fed.

The scout’s survival instinct kicked in. He lunged forward, raising his serrated combat knife to gut the closest man.

He didn't make it a single step.

Alex stepped out of the blind spot. He didn't swing a weapon. He simply drove his heavy combat boot directly into the side of the scout’s lead knee.

The joint inverted with a loud, wet pop.

The scout screamed, his leg collapsing under him. Before he hit the ground, Alex grabbed the back of the man's thick parka, slammed him face-first into a rusted steel pillar, and twisted his armed hand backward until the wrist dislocated. The serrated knife clattered to the floor.

"Tie him to the pillar," Alex ordered the three militiamen, kicking the knife away. "Use the high-tension cables from the elevator shaft."

The three survivors didn't hesitate. They swarmed the crippled scout, hauling him upright and binding his chest and arms to the rusted steel beam with thick rubber cables. The scout thrashed and cursed, blood pouring from his smashed nose beneath his human-skin mask.

Alex reached out and ripped the skin mask off the scout’s face. Underneath, the man was pale, scarred, and severely malnourished, despite his heavy gear.

Alex didn't interrogate him immediately. He didn't pull out pliers or threaten to cut off fingers. Physical pain was something people in the apocalypse dealt with every day. It built resistance.

Instead, Alex walked back down the stairs to the campfire. He picked up his own unopened MRE pouch, cracked the chemical heater, and waited for the steam to rise. Then, he walked back up to the mezzanine, carrying the boiling hot pouch of beef stew.

He pulled up a milk crate and sat down two feet in front of the bound scout.

Alex opened the pouch. He took the plastic spoon, scooped up a steaming chunk of processed beef covered in rich, salty gravy, and slowly put it into his own mouth. He chewed deliberately.

The scout’s curses died in his throat.

His eyes locked onto the plastic pouch. The overwhelming scent of sodium, fat, and hot meat hit his face. The scout swallowed hard. His adam’s apple bobbed frantically.

"I can cut pieces off you for an hour, and you might stay quiet," Alex said, his voice quiet, conversational. "But your body is starving. I can hear your stomach digesting itself. When was the last time you ate something hot? Something that wasn't frozen rat or human flesh?"

Alex scooped another spoonful. He blew on it, letting the savory steam drift directly into the scout’s face.

The scout’s breathing became ragged. A thick line of drool spilled from the corner of his mouth, freezing against his chin. His biological drive was completely overriding his training.

"Tell me about your camp," Alex said, eating the spoonful. "Numbers. Weapons. Defenses. You give me the truth, and I give you the rest of this bag."

The scout gritted his teeth, tearing his eyes away from the food. "Fuck you. Kael will skin you alive. He'll—"

Alex didn't argue. He just scooped up more beef and ate it. Slowly.

Minute by minute, the bag got lighter. The smell saturated the freezing air. The psychological torture of watching calories disappear in front of a starving man was absolute.

By the time Alex reached the bottom of the pouch, the scout broke.

"Wait!" the scout sobbed, his voice cracking, his eyes wild with animal desperation. "Wait. Stop eating. I'll tell you."

Alex paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Talk."

"Fifty men," the scout gasped, his eyes glued to the spoon. "Grid 09. An old hardware superstore on the surface. Concrete walls. Backup generators. Kael leads us. We have automatic rifles, but ammo is low. Mostly we use heavy crossbows and crude pipe bombs."

Alex memorized the data. Grid 09 was only three miles north. A hardware store meant building materials. Insulation. Wire. A real fortress.

"What else?" Alex demanded.

"That's it! That's the truth!" the scout cried, straining against the cables. "Now give me the food. You promised!"

"I did," Alex said.

He stood up, walked to the scout, and dumped the remaining two spoonfuls of warm stew and gravy directly onto the freezing concrete floor, right at the scout’s boots.

The scout stared at the splattered food in absolute horror. "What... what are you doing?"

"I don't feed the enemy," Alex said coldly.

He drew his hunting knife.

"You promised!" the scout screamed, thrashing wildly. "I gave you Kael's numbers! Let me go!"

"If I let you go, you report back. If I keep you, you consume calories I need for my people," Alex stated, stating the brutal math of the wasteland. "You were dead the moment you crawled down that shaft."

Alex stepped forward and smoothly drove the knife into the side of the scout’s neck, severing the carotid artery.

The scout convulsed, blood spraying against the concrete, freezing almost instantly. Within ten seconds, he was dead.

The three militiamen standing behind Alex swallowed hard. They looked at the executioner with a mixture of profound fear and absolute respect. There was no hesitation. No fake morality. Alex Ryder was a man who protected his own and exterminated threats.

Alex knelt and quickly stripped the body.

He found a heavy, makeshift mechanical crossbow slung over the scout’s back. It was welded together from car leaf springs and rusted rebar. He also pulled a crude, rolled-up piece of dried animal skin from the scout’s chest pocket. It was a hand-drawn map of the local grids, marked with Kael’s patrol routes.

Alex grabbed the crossbow and the map, leaving the corpse for the militiamen to loot, and walked back down to Platform 3.

Elena was standing by the fire, holding the rusted folding knife Alex had given her earlier. She watched him approach, seeing the fresh blood on his hands. She didn't flinch.

Alex stopped in front of her. He held out the heavy, rusted crossbow and the crude skin-map.

"Hold these for a second," Alex said.

Elena carefully took the heavy weapon and the map. The moment the items transferred to her hands, Alex’s retinas burned with the sharp, electric blue light of the system.

[ Gift Confirmed: Makeshift Crossbow (Durability 31%) + Crude Leather Map ] [ Class Resonance Detected: Tactical Arsenal / Intelligence ] [ Multiplier Triggered: 150x (Epic) / Concept Upgrade ]

[ Reward 1: Military-Grade Compound Crossbows x 150 ] [ Reward 2: High-Explosive Titanium Bolts x 1500 ] [ Reward 3: U.S. Army 3D Holographic Topographical Mapper x 1 ] Status: Deposited in Maintenance Locker 04.

Alex let out a slow, frosty breath. The system didn't just multiply the map by a hundred. It recognized the concept of the map and upgraded its technological tier to the absolute pinnacle.

He immediately turned and walked to Locker 04.

He didn't bother opening the massive crates of compound crossbows yet. He reached into the dark locker and pulled out a small, sleek black disc, no larger than a hockey puck. It felt dense, made of advanced polymer and cold metal.

Alex walked back to the center of the platform and set the disc on the floor. He pressed the center button.

With a low hum, the dark subway station was suddenly bathed in a soft, ethereal blue light.

Elena and the militiamen gasped, stepping back in shock.

Projected into the air above the disc was a perfectly detailed, three-dimensional holographic wireframe of the ruined city above them. Every collapsed skyscraper, every frozen street, and every subway tunnel was rendered in glowing blue lines.

"My god," Elena whispered, reaching a hand out toward the light. "What is that?"

"Our eyes," Alex said softly.

He tapped the edge of the disc. The map zoomed in, highlighting Grid 09. A large, square structure—the hardware store—glowed brightly. Inside the structure, fifty tiny red dots pulsed steadily. Heat signatures. Kael's camp.

But Alex’s eyes quickly shifted away from the hardware store.

He looked at the area directly above their own subway station.

Three new red dots had just appeared on the edge of the holographic scan. They were moving fast, converging on the subway entrance where the scout had just died.

The scout had missed his radio check-in. The hunters were here.

Alex looked at the blue glow of the hologram, then turned to his three newly armed men.

"Open the other crates in the locker," Alex commanded, his voice slicing through the cold. "Grab the crossbows. Load the red-tipped bolts. The wolves are at the door."