Chapter 52: Western District Mall

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Western District Mall

Killian’s POV

Killian had always believed in preparing for the worst.

Because the worst had a habit of appearing when people least expected it.

The Western District Mall stood near the Remington ancestral home.

Large.

Accessible.

And more than enough to provide the supplies he needed.

Driving through the empty streets, Killian remained vigilant.

Bodies covered the roads.

Pedestrians.

Drivers.

Entire families.

Everyone had fallen asleep.

It should have been peaceful.

Instead—

The silence only made him uneasy.

His fingers unconsciously tapped against the steering wheel.

Tomorrow.

Everything would begin tomorrow.

At least—

That was what should happen.

Killian no longer trusted the word should.

Soon, the massive shopping center appeared.

Without hesitation, he entered.

His footsteps echoed softly throughout the empty building.

Rows of sleeping bodies lay everywhere.

Children.

Elderly people.

Employees.

Customers.

Killian didn’t spare them a second glance.

Not because he lacked compassion.

But because pity would not save them.

Survival required priorities.

And right now—

His priority was preparation.

Furniture.

Beds.

Mattresses.

Blankets.

Tables.

Bookshelves.

Everything disappeared into his space.

Time passed.

Killian moved through the mall with frightening efficiency.

The homeware section.

Kitchen appliances.

Generators.

Power banks.

Batteries.

Flashlights.

Water filters.

Portable heaters.

Nothing useful remained behind.

Eventually, he reached the outdoor and sporting section.

Camping tents.

Sleeping bags.

Portable stoves.

Hiking backpacks.

Emergency radios.

Fishing rods.

Climbing ropes.

Crossbows.

Axes.

Portable solar panels.

Even extreme sports equipment disappeared into his space.

As he swept another shelf clean, his footsteps slowly stopped.

Something felt off.

His emerald eyes swept across the surroundings.

Nothing.

Yet...

His instincts remained restless.

Silence.

Too much silence.

He could hear breathing.

Hundreds of people breathing.

But there was nothing else.

No coughing.

No snoring.

No phones ringing.

Nothing.

The atmosphere felt wrong.

Killian frowned.

His fingers twitched unconsciously.

Warmth spread beneath his skin.

The familiar sensation returned.

Particles.

Tiny.

Countless.

Invisible.

Yet somehow—

He could feel them.

The sensation was strange.

And addictive.

Not because it made him feel powerful.

But because it made him feel capable.

Prepared.

Safe.

His fingertips glowed faintly.

The metal shelf before him trembled slightly.

Inside his consciousness, a voice suddenly spoke.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Are you unconsciously manipulating atoms?."

Killian’s eyes lowered toward his hand.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

Silence.

Then—

"Interesting."

A pause.

Followed by another.

"I fail to understand what Master finds interesting."

Killian almost smiled. He had come to compare Ziki’s personality to that of a rebellious teenage son.

"Nothing."

"Then why ask?"

"Because conversations require participation."

"..."

Several seconds passed.

"I dislike meaningless conversations."

Killian calmly stored another camping lantern.

"Good thing I don’t."

"..."

For some reason, he could almost imagine Ziki’s expression.

Teenagers.

Honestly.

A twitch suddenly caught his attention.

Killian froze.

One of the sleeping bodies near the escalator.

Its finger moved.

His expression instantly became cold.

Not good.

Another body twitched.

Then another.

Too early.

Again.

Without hesitation, Killian abandoned the shopping cart.

His pace quickened.

Not running.

Running created noise.

Noise attracted danger.

And Killian Remington had survived twenty-six years by following one principle.

Never underestimate the unknown.

Not enemies.

Not fate.

And certainly—

Not the dead.

As he quickly left that floor, he noticed that aside from fingers twitching, not one body was getting up.

As he heading towards that third floor, he noticed a clothing department store. He walked in and swept everything, including manaquins and clothing racks, into his space..

Heading towards the fourth floor, he footsteps halted. Right in front to of him were children’s clothes and toys. This seemed to be the children’s floor.

His fingers twitched. He wasn’t sure if he would need anything for children but he decided to take it. Just in case.

What if a struggling child needed clothing? What if he could trade children’s toys with families thriving in the apocalypse. Once the government created the base, life would calm down. They would start trying to live as normal as possible. Perhaps he could trade children’s clothes and toys for better supplies or benefits in the future.

As he walked down the isles, he saw maternal clothing as well. He stopped and stared. He had no family in this world, what could he possibly need maternal clothes for?

Then, an image of a beautiful red head came to mind. What if she found a husband in the future and decided to start a family? As if driven by instinct, he swept everything into his space.

Although having a family during the apocalypse wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t exactly an issue either. Her and her brothers had prepared for the worst. He joined their group. He wanted to integrate with them as much as possible. He liked the family’s warmth.

Someday, she would marry and he would just be an outcast. Perhaps if he provided her with benefits, he could be considered an uncle to her future children. He needed to secure his place in this family. That was the only way to stay connected to them and help each other survive.

Ziki couldn’t help but ask "Are you going to be a father?"

"No" Killian answered calmly.

"Then why are you collected maternal clothes and children’s necessities?" Ziki asked.

"Well, if I want to stay a member to the survival group I’ve joined, I’ll need to pull my weight. My relationship is particularly close to Penelope. She’s a beautiful woman. One day, she might form a family. If I prepare this for her then my chances of not being cast aside are low. I could become her children’s godfather if possible." Killian answered honestly.

"Or father" Ziki responded.

"Father?" Killian asked.

"If she is beautiful, why would you allow someone else to marry her?" Ziki asked.

"We’re not in that sort of relationship." Killian seriously answered.

"Do you find her beautiful?" Ziki asked.

"of course, any man would." Killian responded.

"So, why give another man a chance to have her?" Ziki couldn’t understand his thought process.

"We are friends." Killian answered and continued to walk towards the staircase to exit the fourth floor.

"I meant to tell you this earlier, but when do you plan on obtaining spiritual artifacts?" Ziki suddenly asked.

"Soon."

Killian planned to visit the national museum tomorrow night.

"Good."

"You’ll need a considerable amount of spiritual essence if you want the hatchling to emerge."

Killian’s footsteps halted.

Hatchling?

His expression slowly changed.

"...Hatchling?"

"Yes."

"From the egg."

Killian frowned.

"What egg?"

Silence.

Absolute silence.

"..."

"..."

"..."

For some reason—

He could almost hear Ziki taking a deep breath.

"The black egg inside the mountain cave."

Killian blinked.

Then blinked again.

"When did I get an egg?"

Another long silence followed.

"You dripped blood onto it."

"The day you discovered the spiritual spring."

Killian stopped walking.

His expression became complicated.

Slowly—

Memories resurfaced.

The sharp shell.

The cut on his hand.

The blood.

The cave.

And then—

"Oh."

That was all he said.

Honestly—

He was mentally exhausted.

He would worry about the mysterious egg.

The spiritual artifacts.

And whatever else Ziki neglected to tell him...

Tomorrow.

Right now—

He simply wanted to go home.

And sleep.