Welcome, Apocalypse

Chapter 6: The Midnight Restock

The hundred-eyed customer leaned down, its multiple joints clicking like a symphony of breaking dry branches. A smell like ancient dust and cold copper filled the store, drowning out the scent of spicy ramen.

“Arga, don’t move,” Mira hissed from behind the cigarette rack, her voice thin enough to snap. “Whatever that thing is, it’s not human.”

“No kidding, Mira,” Arga muttered, his grip on the counter so tight his knuckles were deathly white. “Hey, big guy. When you say ‘satisfaction,’ are we talking about a specific flavor or, like… my soul? Because the menu is still being updated.”

“The Essence,” the creature vibrated. Its voice didn’t come from a mouth; it came from the air itself. “The shards of the shattered moon are drifting in the sector nearby. Fetch them, Merchant. My coin is heavy, but my patience is thin.”

A massive, obsidian-like coin slammed onto the counter. It didn’t make a sound. It partially sank into the wood, pulsing with a sick, gravity-defying rhythm.

[System Alert: Urgent Restock Mission Triggered!]

[Objective: Retrieve 5x Void Shards from the ‘Sector 4 Ruins.’]

[Reward: Permanent Shop Fortification & Level 2 Inventory.]

[Failure Penalty: Displeasure of a Great Elder. (Summary execution of staff and customer.)]

“Great,” Arga groaned, looking at the glowing blue text. “So, if I don’t go out into the literal end of the world to play delivery boy, we all get turned into snacks.”

“You’re leaving?” Ben gasped, clutching his wounded shoulder. “Arga, there are literal armies of those things out there!”

“The System isn’t giving me a multiple-choice quiz, Ben,” Arga said, reaching under the counter for a handheld radio he’d pulled from the new inventory. “Mira, catch. Stay on this channel. If anything moves outside that isn't me, you lock the inner grate. Got it?”

“Arga, this is suicide,” Mira said, her hands shaking as she took the device. “The smog is thick enough to choke a horse.”

“Then I’ll be a very fast, very breathless merchant,” Arga said, grabbing a sleek, tactical hoodie from the newly materialized black boxes. He zipped it up, checking the interface on his sleeve. “Keep the door keyed to my biometric signature. If I’m not back in thirty, well… assume the store has a new manager.”

He didn’t wait for them to argue. He stepped through the swirling starlight threshold.

The silence of the ruins hit him like a physical blow. The violet smog had settled into a low, rolling carpet of toxic gas. Arga held the radio to his mouth, his voice a tight whisper.

“Mira? You there? I can’t see more than three feet in front of me.”

“Loud and clear,” Mira’s voice crackled through the static. “The sensor on the counter is showing your heartbeat. Arga, it’s… really high. Relax.”

“Hard to relax when the sky looks like an open wound,” Arga replied, ducking behind a burnt-out shell of a car. “System, show me the coordinates.”

[Navigation: 300 meters North-East. Avoid the shadows that pulse.]

“‘Avoid the shadows that pulse,’” Arga repeated. “Informative. Thanks, System. Really helpful stuff.”

“What was that?” Mira asked.

“Just talking to my imaginary boss,” Arga whispered. “Wait. Freeze. I hear something.”

The sound of scraping metal echoed from the ruins of a nearby department store. Arga flattened himself against a pile of rubble, his lungs burning behind his mask. A silhouette—tall, spindly, and covered in what looked like jagged iron plates—was prowling the intersection.

“Arga?” Mira’s voice was urgent. “The radar just picked up a massive signature ten meters from you. What are you seeing?”

“A very large reason to stay off-shift next time,” Arga hissed. “Stay quiet. It’s checking the cars.”

He held his breath as the iron-clad thing sniffed the air, its movements jerky and unnatural. It let out a low, grinding growl before moving deeper into the alley. Arga didn’t wait. He sprinted in the opposite direction, his boots silent on the asphalt.

“I’m at the spot,” he panted, looking at a cluster of floating, jagged purple crystals hovering above a crater. “It’s like a graveyard here. Mira, are you seeing this?”

“No, but the energy reading is off the charts,” she said. “Hurry up. Something else is moving on the main road. Something fast.”

“Just need… three more… almost there,” Arga muttered, snatching the glowing shards out of the air. They felt cold, sucking the warmth from his palms. “Got ‘em. Moving back now.”

“Arga, move! Now!” Mira screamed through the speaker. “The signal behind you—it’s closing the gap! Fast!”

“I’m running! I’m running!” Arga bolted, his legs screaming with fatigue. “Is it the iron thing?”

“No, it’s smaller! Lower to the ground!”

Arga risked a glance over his shoulder. In the violet haze, he saw two glowing red eyes. They weren't high up. They were level with his knees. The sound of rapid, four-legged footsteps thundered behind him.

“Keep the door open!” Arga shouted into the radio. “Mira, have Elias ready at the latch! I’m coming in hot!”

“We’re ready! Ten seconds!”

The store’s amber glow appeared through the fog like a lighthouse. Arga lunged forward, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic bird. He could hear the creature’s breath behind him—a rhythmic, wet huffing sound.

He dove through the starlight portal just as the door interface flared to life.

“Lock it!” Arga screamed, hitting the linoleum hard and skidding across the floor.

Elias slammed the manual override. The door hissed into place, and the barrier hummed with a violent, electric intensity.

“Did you get it?” Ben asked, rushing over. “Arga, you’re bleeding.”

“Scraped my knee,” Arga panted, rolling onto his back. He held up the five glowing shards. “I’m alive. Mission… accomplished.”

Mira leaned over him, her face pale. “Arga. Don't move.”

“What? I’m safe now,” he said, trying to sit up.

“Look at the glass,” she whispered.

Arga looked. On the other side of the reinforced window, there was no sign of the creature. No monsters. Just the empty, violet smog.

Then, the sound started.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

It wasn't a bang. It wasn't a roar. It was the sound of a long, sharp nail slowly dragging across the bottom of the glass.

“Maybe it’s just a stray?” Ben suggested, though he looked like he was about to faint.

“A stray doesn't track a human for six blocks through a Void-Tide,” Arga said, standing up on shaky legs.

The customer—the Elder entity—stepped toward Arga, ignoring the scratching. “The shards, Merchant. My coin waits.”

“Here,” Arga said, handing them over. “Take them and get out.”

The entity looked at the shards, then back at the door. It let out a sound like low, gravelly laughter.

“You have brought more than shards back, Merchant,” it hissed. “You have brought a Stalker. It does not want your noodles.”

The scratching stopped. In its place, a low, guttural voice vibrated through the door frame, mirroring the entities' own frequency.

“Merchant…” the voice from outside rasped. “You dropped your… change.”

A massive, serrated claw jammed into the small gap where the door met the floor, and the reinforced metal began to groan as if it were being opened by a god-like strength.