CHAPTER 58: INTERACTING WITH THE SYSTEM

Riku cooped himself up in an office room of the supermarket.

[User: Riku Hayashi Level: 8

Experience Points: 30,683/52,435

SP BALANCE: 290,245

Armory Shop:

Skills:

[[Skill Points Available:20]

Weapons Handling: Lv. 3 (30/60 SP)

Melee Weapon Proficiency: Lv. 3 (30/60 SP)

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Lv. 3 (30/60 SP)

Stamina & Endurance: Lv. 3 (30/60 SP)

Scavenging:Lv. 1 (0/10 SP)

Tactical Awareness: Lv. 2 (20/30 SP)

Driving: Lv. 0 (0/10 SP)

Piloting: Lv. 0 (0/10 SP)

Maintenance & Engineering: Lv. 0 (0/10 SP)

Medical Knowledge: Lv. 2 (10/20 SP)

]

Riku was looking at the new stats after receiving the huge rewards from taking in the survivors, and a disappointment flickered across his face.

"Wait, that’s it? Only two levels increase even after that?"

He couldn’t believe it, but still remembered that the reason why was because the system leveling sucks. It starts from zero when you level up. So it feels like starting to square one after the levels up.

But still, he was grateful for the power the system had granted him. After all, he wouldn’t survive long without it, especially after encountering special infected to which he knew would appear more as the apocalypse progressed.

Now for the skill points. There are 20 of them, he planned on getting each of his stats above level 1 and there were still a bunch of level 1 skills.

"So maintenance and scavenging I guess," Riku muttered.

He dragged the points into place with a mental flick.

[Scavenging increased to Level 2!]

[Maintenance & Engineering increased to Level 2!]

The shift came instantly. It wasn’t like strength or endurance, where muscles flexed harder. This was deeper. His eyes flicked to the nearest stack of boxes in the basement and something clicked. The bent corners, the faded print, the way dust had settled—he knew without opening them that half the cans inside were still sealed, the other half spoiled. His nose picked up faint threads he’d never noticed before: musty cloth versus mold, edible oil versus rancid grease.

Then another wave hit—practical knowledge slotting into his skull like a puzzle snapping together. His mind flashed with schematics of carburetors, electrical wiring, fence bracings. How to check if a generator was clogged. How to repair a rifle’s firing pin with nothing but a file and grit. It hurt for a second, like an icepick through the temple, but when it faded, the clarity remained.

Riku rubbed his forehead, exhaling. "Alright. That’s better."

Now for the other features he received.

[New Feature Unlocked: Wheel of Fortune!]

The message pulsed across his vision, crisp letters glowing in the dimness of the office room.

Riku straightened from the desk where he’d spread a scavenged map. "Wheel of... Fortune?" he muttered, suspicious. The name didn’t fit the cold, clinical tone the System usually carried. This sounded like a damn game show gimmick.

A translucent panel shimmered into being, occupying the air in front of him.

The Wheel of Fortune.

It was exactly that—a huge circular dial, bright with sections of color-coded rewards. The glow made his eyes ache just to look at it.

Ten slots gleamed across the wheel.

4 Slots: SP Rewards. Numbers scrawled across them—50,000... 100,000... 250,000... and one that dwarfed the rest: 500,000 SP.

3 Slots: Chests. Wooden, silver, and gilded—small, medium, large. No description, no hint of contents, just the silent promise of "loot."

2 Slots: Capsules. One for XP, one for SP, each with a ×2 multiplier burned into the glowing icon.

1 Slot: Blank. Black, featureless, offering nothing.

The wheel hovered, waiting.

Riku narrowed his eyes. "So... a slot machine." He rubbed his thumb against his fingers, jaw tightening. "Figures the System would throw in a gamble when I least need it."

Yet the temptation prickled hot in his chest. The chance at half a million SP—that was no joke. Enough to buy upgrades, weapons, maybe even fortify this entire supermarket into something worth calling a fortress.

He clenched his jaw. "Fine. One spin."

The panel responded instantly.

[Spin initiated.]

The wheel blazed into motion. Colors blurred, icons streaking past in dizzying rotation. The hum grew louder, vibrating in his bones. Miko’s voice echoed faintly through the door outside—calling Hana to eat—but Riku’s world had tunneled into this single spin.

Slower. Slower. The click-click-click of the pointer sharpened as it hopped from prize to prize. His breath caught in his chest. The wheel stuttered, teased between a silver chest and the massive golden SP wedge. His fists clenched.

Click.

Click.

The pointer dropped.

[Congratulations! You have received: 500,000 SP.]

The office filled with light. The number slammed into his HUD like a hammer blow.

SP Balance: 790,245

Riku exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Half a million... just like that." He laughed once, humorless. "Wheel of Fortune, huh? Guess you earned the name."

[You have used your Spin Ticket. Get more by completing missions or killing a super special infected monsters]

The message blinked once, then faded.

"Of course, the first one was free," Riku thought. Still, 500,000 SP, that’s a lot of SP which he could use to purchase more high-end weaponries. Heck even a vehicle.

Speaking of vehicles, maybe it’s time that he found one for himself.

He opened the Armory Shop and browsed for vehicles.

There he saw a variety of models.

Civilian Tier

Pickup Truck (reinforced bed, 4 seats) — 15,000 SP

Delivery Van (armored panels, high storage capacity) — 18,000 SP

SUV (4WD, off-road capable, 5 seats) — 20,000 SP

Military Tier

Humvee (standard armor, 4 seats, mountable turret point) — 25,000 SP

JLTV (Joint Light Tactical Vehicle, improved armor, V-hull for mines, 4 seats + cargo) — 30,000 SP

MRAP (Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicle, heavy armor, 6 seats) — 35,000 SP

Riku leaned closer, scanning the details. The civilian vehicles were cheap, functional. Easy purchases. But they wouldn’t last long outside the city—one overturned bus, one crashed pile-up, and a delivery van was as good as a coffin.

The military models drew his eye immediately. Humvees. JLTVs. Real vehicles built to take punishment and keep rolling. His maintenance skill pulsed in his head, giving him flashes of schematics—how to swap out an alternator, how to fix a broken axle, how to keep an engine alive with minimal tools. With his new knowledge, he could keep one of these running for years if he had the fuel.

But he browsed for more, believing that there’d be more. And then, he saw it.