It had been two years and eight months since the war began.

    Before the war, I had assumed that by this point, there wouldn’t be many people left alive.

    Reality, however, had proven me wrong.

    Even if it’s just a shell of its former self, the government still exists, and countless people have managed to take root and survive here and there.

    But lately, I can''t help but feel that everything is nearing its limit. And I doubt I’m the only one who thinks so.

    Even I, Park Gyu, who proudly considers myself the most thoroughly prepared survivalist in all of South Korea, have started to sense a creeping crisis.

    What threatens our survival isn’t just the Legion faction or the monsters.

    External threats are merely one of many factors that jeopardize our survival.

    Living—true survival—encompasses the everyday struggle of life.

    And to live, we need supplies.

    If I were to put it in game terms, they’re like HP.

    Just as a game character dies when their HP hits zero, we do too when our resources are depleted.

    Traditionally, there are two major ways to replenish dwindling supplies: looting and scavenging.

    Looting isn’t really my style, nor is it an easy task.

    As seen during the Defender incident, everyone has leveled up.

    In other words, the gullible fools who would sit helplessly in their homes, waiting to be plundered, have all long since died out.

    The easier option is scavenging.

    Calling it “scavenging” is a polite way to put it, but in reality, it’s more like “scrapping.”

    It involves rummaging through abandoned houses or even corpses to secure supplies.

    These two methods of survival were never options before the war.

    However, with the apocalypse dragging on and humanity’s surprising resilience proving stronger than expected, I’ve started to reconsider my approach.

    It was Rebecca who gave me the nudge to change my perspective.

    *

    People need various supplies to survive, but at its core, it always boils down to the traditional essentials: food, clothing, and shelter.

    For now, the food situation is relatively stable.

    I''ve managed to convert most of my frozen supplies into long-term rations, and I occasionally farm small plots in my territory to pass the time.

    One of my few joys is planting and harvesting the seedlings Kim Elder passed on to me, along with what I had already stored away.

    However, my farming isn’t consistent or organized.

    Unlike DSIREA and others who excel in agriculture—those who plant crops neatly in square-shaped fields and harvest them efficiently—I scatter seeds sporadically across various spots.

    This isn’t because I’m an idiot but because I want my fields to look nothing like traditional farms.

    My “plots” are as small as a single shoe in some places or large enough to barely stretch out my body in others.

    It’s inefficient, labor-intensive to water, vulnerable to pests, and yields far less than a proper farm. But compared to the risks of discovery, those disadvantages are trivial.

    A person like me, marked by the Legion faction, can’t afford to proudly display their fields like DSIREA, posting pictures titled “Skelton Farm” online. That’s the kind of arrogance that could invite a Legion artillery barrage, wiping out an entire year’s harvest in seconds.

    Still, this approach only works for now. It won’t hold up in a year or two.

    At best, my reserves will last another year.

    Even with the long-term “brick rations,” I might survive five years, but I’d probably lose my mind or succumb to some other ailment long before that.

    The bigger issue than food is the aging infrastructure.

    Electricity and plumbing were top-notch when installed, and I had expert advice during construction, so they’re holding up fine for now.

    The batteries, however, are a different story.

    No matter how many I stockpiled, time isn’t kind to them. After three years, the charge capacity and voltage have noticeably dropped.

    But the most critical issue is the fuel.

    The quality of the fuel is deteriorating steadily—something I’d anticipated.

    Fuel isn’t something that lasts forever.

    Gasoline doesn’t even make it a year, and diesel, at best, lasts about a year and a half.

    I had pre-ordered diesel known for its longevity, added preservatives to prevent oxidation, and stored it in vacuum-sealed tanks, but even that couldn’t stop the passage of time.

    Every time I open a valve to use the fuel, air inevitably seeps in through the gaps. Not even a major corporation could prevent that.

    Korea’s infamous seasonal swings and humidity haven’t helped either.

    Sure, we boast four seasons, but the reality is we get the world’s harshest climates in one "gift set."

    Rebecca’s predecessors froze to death en masse during the Korean War, not because they were incompetent but because they couldn’t have imagined a country as hot as the Pacific islands could get that cold.

    Fuel shortages are becoming a serious problem.

    That morning, Rebecca sent me a message.

    From: COOKIEMONSTER123

    Message: Skelton, this winter will be freezing.

    Mutations are undoubtedly terrifying creatures, but their numbers aren’t overwhelming.

    Their larger size makes them more noticeable, and their bigger bodies demand greater sustenance—something that doesn’t improve with increased intelligence or size.

    Even in China, where mutations are abundant, most have died due to starvation or infighting.

    Some mutations that prey on humans have been killed by the humans themselves.

    In this area, there are no villages or wildlife to sustain mutations.

    It’s a barren wasteland.

    Still, I couldn’t let my guard down.

    With an axe in one hand and a rifle in the other, I approached the abandoned house cautiously.

    Thud!

    I kicked open the door and stepped inside.

    The stale air was thick with dust, and the faint scent of decay lingered—likely from corpses long reduced to husks.

    Click.

    Moving slowly and carefully, I began to search the house.

    When scavenging abandoned homes, it’s essential to search the entire property.

    Skipping areas like the attic or basement out of laziness could expose you to a counterattack from someone hiding there.

    This is even more critical if you plan to spend any amount of time in the house. For safety’s sake, you should also inspect nearby houses.

    If someone is hiding within range and they’re armed, they could pose a significant threat.

    The object of my search wasn’t hard to find.

    In the boiler room, a massive wood-burning boiler stood intact, showing no signs of major damage.

    Next to it were two mummified corpses.

    Unsettling, but at least it confirmed that there were no immediate threats in the house.

    The real problem was the boiler’s weight.

    Just by looking at it, I could tell it was at least 150 kilograms.

    It’s not impossible for me, Skelton, to lift, but just barely.

    And a strained back equals death in this world.

    Catch a cold, you die.

    Get too cold, you die.

    That’s the reality we live in.

    Should I bring in a forklift?

    The boiler was only 9 kilometers away, but using a forklift for such a distance was no trivial decision.

    I’d probably have to bring it back anyway, maybe load it onto a truck.

    At least I had secured the boiler.

    Now, I needed to search the area thoroughly.

    I’d have to return eventually, so I might as well scout the surroundings properly this time.

    Holding my rifle at the ready, I moved into the adjacent house.

    This one was smaller but well-built, with a quaint charm.

    Most of the first-floor windows were shattered, but the second-floor windows and others out of reach were pristine and offered a clear view of the outside.

    The moment I stepped inside, I hesitated.

    Should I turn back?

    This house... someone was living here.

    I could feel it.

    No matter how well they tried to hide it, my instincts were sharp.

    Engaging with people wasn’t a good idea.

    Anyone prepared to bunker down with weapons and shoot on sight wasn’t worth tangling with.

    “...I’ve come to the wrong place. I’ll leave now. I have no intention of fighting, so please don’t misunderstand.”

    Speaking toward the unknown resident, I slowly began to back away.

    But I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when two lights flickered in the darkness.

    People.

    “E-excuse me!”

    It was a child’s voice.

    Not one, but three children.

    They were all skin and bones, looking like walking skeletons.

    “Do you... have any food?”