Sweet Apocalypse System

Dr. Boby’s breathing sounded like a broken diesel engine struggling uphill. His lungs were burning, his throat parched as if he had just swallowed a handful of desert sand.

"Run, Dogy! Don't stop to sniff their asses, you idiot!" Boby yelled, leaping over a collapsed snack shelf.

Ahead of him, a large Golden Retriever with dust-dulled golden fur ran nimbly. The dog, Dogy, glanced back, giving him a look that clearly said, 'You're the slow one, Boss. I'm just waiting for you to die so I can eat your corpse.'

"Damn it, I know what you're thinking!" Boby cursed again, his foot slipping slightly on a puddle of drying blood on the convenience store's tiled floor.

CRASH!

Behind them, a glass display case shattered. Dozens of pale hands with black fingernails clawed at the air. A wet growling sound, like someone gargling thick blood, filled the narrow aisle. They were no longer human. They were the remnants of Bandung’s population who had failed to 'move on' from their fleeting lives as zombies, the living dead, or whatever cool name they had now.

Boby didn't care. His main problem wasn't the rotten teeth ready to tear out his throat, but something more internal. His hands were shaking violently. His vision started to blur, black spots dancing in the corners of his eyes. Cold sweat the size of corn kernels poured down his temples, not just from fear, but because his body was screaming for fuel.

Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. Boby's natural enemy, more deadly than any zombie bite.

"Where... where is that damn shelf..." Boby muttered in a panic, his eyes sweeping over the empty shelves already thoroughly looted by other survivors at the start of the outbreak.

Instant noodles? Gone.

Rice? Vanished.

Canned milk? Only dented cans remained, their contents now a nest of maggots.

Dogy barked loudly at the end of the aisle, right in front of the iron door to the back storage room. He was signaling.

Boby squinted. On the bottom shelf, buried under a scattering of baby diapers, was a familiar maroon gleam. Boby's heart pounded, faster than it had when he was being chased by the horde just moments ago.

There it was. A SilverQueen Chunky Bar. King Size.

"Treasure..." Boby whispered with a crazy smile. He snatched the chocolate like a goalie catching a penalty kick.

But he didn't have time to celebrate.

"GRAAAGHHH!"

A zombie in a ragged cashier uniform leaped from behind the counter. Boby screamed in surprise, reflexively kicking the zombie in the groin—a futile move since corpses don't feel pain in their testicles.

"Die, you! Wait, I forgot you're already dead!" Boby hit the zombie's head with a broken broom handle he'd picked up earlier.

Crack!

The zombie's head tilted to the left at an unnatural angle, but it kept coming.

"Dogy! Cover me!"

Woof!

Dogy leaped, slamming into the cashier zombie's chest, knocking it backward. With a predator's precision, Dogy bit the zombie's neck and snapped it with a satisfying crack.

"Good boy! Smart dog! Now run to the storage room!"

Boby stumbled toward the iron door at the back. Dogy followed close behind, acting as a living shield for his fragile master. They both burst into the stuffy warehouse.

SLAM!

Boby slammed the iron door shut and immediately slid the heavy bolt to lock it. A second later...

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The iron door shook violently. On the other side, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of zombies were trying to break in. The sound of claws scraping metal was sickening, like chalk screeching on a blackboard, multiplied by a thousand.

Boby slid down to the floor, leaning against a stack of empty cardboard boxes. He was out of breath. He raised his right hand. The chocolate bar was still clutched tightly. The wrapper was crumpled, the expiration date clearly visible: OCTOBER 2024.

It was now 2025. A year past due. Mold might have colonized the inside.

"A year..." Boby chuckled, a sound of desperation. "Vintage chocolate, Dog. This would fetch a high price at a crazy person's auction."

Dogy sat in front of Boby, tongue lolling, also panting heavily. The dog looked at Boby, then at the chocolate in Boby's hand, then back into Boby's eyes. His gaze was sharp, judgmental.

"What?" Boby asked cynically. "You want a share? Don't even think about it. This is my life, Dog. Without this, I'll pass out in five minutes, and then we'll both be an all-you-can-eat buffet for them outside."

Dogy snorted, then rested his head on his front paws. He looked resigned.

"Don't look at me like that, damn it," Boby rambled, his hands shaking violently as he tried to tear the chocolate wrapper. "I'm a doctor, okay? I know medicine. My body is screaming, 'Hey Boby, where's the glucose? Your brain needs food!' You don't know what it's like to feel withdrawal when all you need is sugar? Of course not. Because you're a dog. Your life is simple. Eat, sleep, lick your ass."

THUD! THUD!

The iron door's hinges began to bend. A little light seeped in through the widening gap. The stench of rotting corpses wafted in.

"Hold up! Get in line!" Boby yelled toward the door, then refocused on the chocolate wrapper.

His fingers were too slick with sweat. His strength was gone. The foil wrapper felt like it was made of titanium steel.

"Come on..." Boby started to cry. Tears of frustration dripped down. "Open... please open... I just want to taste sweetness one more time before I die..."

Dogy stood up. The fur on his back bristled. He let out a low growl toward the door. The gap in the door widened further. Rotten hands started reaching in, groping the air, trying to grab anything they could pull.

"Dogy, back up!" Boby ordered, his voice hoarse. "I can't open this! My hands... my hands won't move!"

Hypoglycemia had reached a critical stage. Boby's muscles began to cramp. His consciousness faded in and out. He saw two of Dogy.

"I... I'm trash, aren't I, Dog?" Boby chuckled, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Dying in a convenience store warehouse, hugging expired chocolate, accompanied by a dog. If this were a movie, the audience would demand a refund."

Dogy barked loudly, snapping Boby back to reality.

CRACK!

The top hinge of the door broke. The iron door tilted, nearly collapsing. Through the large gap, a bald zombie head with half its face peeled off poked through. Its cloudy white eyes stared directly at Boby.

"GRAAA!"

"Yeah, yeah! I know you're hungry!" Boby bit the edge of the chocolate wrapper with his teeth. He yanked his head hard.

Riiip!

The wrapper tore. The aroma of old chocolate mixed with a slight rancid smell spread. To Boby, it was the scent of heaven.

He looked at the contents. The chocolate was white in places—sugar bloom or mold, Boby didn't care.

The warehouse door finally gave way.

CRASH!

It fell onto the floor.

A flood of the living dead poured in.

Dogy leaped forward, biting the hand of the first zombie that tried to grab Boby. The dog fought bravely, tearing, shaking his head to rip the enemy's flesh. But there were too many of them. One zombie kicked Dogy, sending him sprawling into a pile of cardboard boxes.

"DOGY!" Boby screamed.

A cold, slimy hand gripped Boby's neck. Sharp fingernails dug into his skin. A female zombie's face, with a mouth torn back to her ears, moved close to his, her breath smelling like a sewer stirred with a dead rat.

"Get off me, you bastard!"

Boby didn't try to release the grip. In the final second, with trembling hands, he crammed the moldy chocolate bar into his own mouth.

He didn't chew. He swallowed the large piece whole, letting the pungent, slightly bitter sweetness explode on his tongue.

His throat choked. His eyes bulged.

The zombie in front of him opened its mouth wide, ready to bite Boby's nose.

But suddenly, time seemed to stop.

Not figuratively. Time genuinely felt like it was slowing down. Dust particles floating in the air stopped moving. The zombie's gaping mouth froze in position. The sound of growling faded into a strange, static hum.

A warmth spread from Boby's stomach. Not ordinary warmth, but a burning heat, spreading through his veins like molten lava. The dizziness from hypoglycemia vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of energy so massive that Boby felt his head might explode.

A blinding blue light appeared right in front of Boby's retina. Digital text floated in the air; the font was retro 8-bit but perfectly clear.

[Detecting Emergency Glucose Intake...]

[Blood Sugar Level: 400mg/dL (CRITICAL HIGH)]

[Conditions Met.]

[Welcome, Host.]

[THE UNIVERSE DAD SYSTEM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.]

"What the hell..." Boby gaped, chocolate smeared on his teeth.

The text changed again.

[Processing 'Expired Chocolate'...]

[Side Effect: Explosive Diarrhea (Later).]

[Main Effect: INSTANT SUPER STRENGTH (Now).]

[Would you like to accept the 'Raging Dad' Package?]

[Y / N]

The zombie's hand was still gripping his neck. The tips of its teeth were already touching his nose. Boby didn't have time for logic or medical thought.

"Yes! YES! Y! WHATEVER IT IS, DAMN IT!" Boby screamed.

The blue screen flickered.

[Transaction Successful. Glucose converted into Muscle Mass.]

[Mode Active: ONE PUNCH DAD.]

The next second, time returned to normal.

"GRAAA—"

Before the zombie could finish its scream, Boby's right hand moved on its own. It wasn't the weak movement of a malnourished doctor, but a lightning-fast motion accompanied by a small sonic boom.

BOOM!

Boby's fist slammed into the zombie's lower jaw.

The effect was absurd. The zombie's head didn't just break; it detached from its neck, shot upward like a rocket, pierced the warehouse ceiling, and vanished into the rafters.

Black blood splattered across Boby's dumbfounded face.

In the corner of the room, Dogy, who was just recovering from being knocked down, stared at his master with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open.

Boby stared at his smoking fist. The veins in his arms bulged, glowing reddish as if magma flowed beneath his skin.

"I..." Boby swallowed, tasting the remnants of chocolate in his throat. "I just punched a guy's head so hard it flew away?"

The blue screen reappeared at the edge of his vision, this time accompanied by a notification sound that resembled a cash register.

[Remaining Power Duration: 59 Seconds.]

[Warning: Calorie debt will be collected after duration expires. Prepare your kidneys.]

"Huh?"

Hundreds of other zombies at the entrance turned in unison toward Boby. They weren't afraid. They just saw fresh meat that had suddenly become more muscular.

Boby grinned. His cowardly smile vanished, replaced by the grin of a man who had just found a very dangerous new toy.

"Okay," Boby said, stretching his neck. "Who else wants candy?"