Strongest Deliveryman In The Apocalypse

The underground fortress of the Plunderers stretched beneath the ruins like a hidden city.

Concrete walls reinforced with scavenged steel beams loomed tall, their surfaces lit by dim floodlamps that buzzed with a faint, sickly glow.

At the heart of this den of criminals lay a chamber carved from old foundations—transformed into something decadent. The Plunderer Boss reclined on a wide, tattered mattress draped in mismatched silks and furs.

His body was massive, muscles bulging like coiled ropes beneath his scarred skin.

Rings clinked on thick fingers as he raised a half-empty bottle of liquor to his lips, downing it in one savage gulp.

Around him, women lounged on the sheets, their laughter ringing out as they fed him half-rotten grapes, stroked his arms, and whispered empty praises. Their eyes carried no joy, only fear wrapped in false smiles.

Yet the Boss drank it all in with greedy satisfaction.

"Ahh!" He roared with laughter, slamming the empty bottle onto the floor. Glass shattered, and the women flinched. "This is life, eh? This is power! To take what you want, when you want it—that's the law of this rotten world!"

His laughter shook the room. The women forced chuckles, leaning closer though every fiber of their being screamed to pull away.

But then—

Bang!

The chamber's metal door burst open. A Plunderer stumbled inside, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face.

"B-Boss! Intruder! There's an intruder inside the base! He—"

The Boss's grin fell. His eyes sharpened like a predator's.

"You dare interrupt me?"

Before the messenger could explain, the Boss snatched a pistol from the furs beside him. With a deafening crack, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through the man's skull. He collapsed instantly, blood pooling across the floor.

The women screamed and covered their faces.

The Boss sneered, lowering his weapon. "Trash. How dare he ruin my mood."

But as his rage cooled, a memory surfaced.

'Wait…Didn't I tell the men…? His brow furrowed. 'Yes. I told them to report intruders immediately, even if it meant disturbing me.'

For a moment, silence stretched. Then he barked out a laugh, shrugging.

"Eh! My bad." He waved dismissively at the corpse. "He followed orders too well. Wrong place, wrong time."

The women stared in horror, but the Boss had already risen from his nest of silks, stretching his massive arms.

"Ladies, I'll be right back. Don't miss me too much." His grin stretched wide, teeth flashing.

He grabbed a heavy, fur-lined cloak from a chair and swung it over his shoulders. With strides that shook the floor, he marched out of the chamber.

************

The fortress's main hall was in chaos.

Dozens of Plunderers had gathered, weapons raised—swords, clubs, rifles scavenged from old caches. But none dared advance.

They circled around a single man standing in the center.

Of course, who else would it be but Sobin?

He stood calmly amidst the groaning heap of unconscious Plunderers, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Blood streaked across the stone floor, but none of it belonged to him. His expression carried not a shred of concern—only faint irritation, as if he'd been forced to waste time.

Behind him, two trembling Plunderers—the same survivors from earlier—clung to his shadow like frightened dogs.

The hall fell quiet as the Boss appeared at the far end. His bulk filled the entrance, his cloak swaying like a predator's mane.

His eyes narrowed at the sight before him.

One glance at the collapsed men told him everything.

This intruder wasn't normal.

The two surviving Plunderers lit up at the sight of their leader. They rushed forward, pointing desperately.

"Boss! That's him! That's the one! He's the intruder!"

The Boss's lip curled into a smirk.

"And you two…" His voice rumbled, cold as stone. "You brought him here, didn't you?"

Their faces drained of color. "N-no, Boss, we—"

"Traitors." His voice boomed through the hall. "You dare betray your comrades? You dare side with an outsider?"

The two shook violently, stumbling back.

"N-no! We didn't betray anyone! We—we just—"

The Boss's glare cut them off. "Pathetic rats. You deserve death."

They bolted back to hide behind Sobin, using him as a human shield.

"Please! Don't let him kill us! Protect us!"

Sobin blinked slowly. "...You're hiding behind me?"

The Boss took a step forward, his shadow stretching across the hall. His grin widened.

"Don't worry, little rats. Once I crush this fool, you'll be next."

Sobin tilted his head, frowning faintly. "Wait… are you calling me the fool here?"

The Boss chuckled darkly. "Of course. Who else would walk willingly into a lion's den, stand against my army, and expect to leave alive?"

Sobin raised an eyebrow. "...Huh. Guess that makes sense."

The Boss spread his arms, basking in his own dominance. "You've stepped into my world, boy. And in my world, I am king."

"King, huh? All I see is a thug with too many muscles and not enough brain cells." Sobin's lips twitched, unimpressed.

"W-what?!"

"When I was warned about Plunderers by the Association, I thought you were like Terrorists or something. The greatest threats that exist in this world apart from Monsters. But what a letdown…" He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"You people are nothing but glorified bandits!"

Gasps echoed among the Plunderers. A few even laughed nervously before silencing themselves under their leader's glare.

The Boss's grin didn't falter. In fact, it grew wider.

"Arrogant. I like that." His hand dipped beneath his cloak. "But arrogance alone won't save you."

From within the folds, he drew a weapon.

At first glance, it resembled a gun—sleek, black, its barrel humming with faint energy. Strange inscriptions glowed faintly across its frame.

The survivors gasped.

"T-that's… Boss's Artifact!"

The Boss lifted the weapon proudly. "This, boy, is no ordinary firearm. It is a Rider's Artifact—C Rank. I claimed it back when I still worked for that pesky Association…"

Sobin's eyes narrowed. His instincts sharpened.

The Boss stroked the weapon lovingly, his voice dripping with pride.

"It looks like a simple gun, doesn't it? But appearances deceive. This beauty doesn't fire bullets. No… it unleashes compressed energy at such force that flesh and steel alike are obliterated. Entire squads have fallen before it."

He aimed the barrel squarely at Sobin's chest.

"You think you're strong? You think you're untouchable? One pull of this trigger, and you won't even realize you're dead."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Fear mingled with awe.

Sobin raised his hands slowly, his voice calm. At this point, he was already panicking.

'The System didn't tell me anything like this! So there are magical weapons in this world too?'

[I thought I mentioned it, though. Sorry, my bad…]

'Y-you—!"

"Any last words, idiot?" The boss chuckled as he watched Sobin squirm. They were always like this—after seeing his Artifact, even the most confident person would shrink in fear.

"Now, wait…" Sobin leaked out a nervous laugh. "No need to be hasty. We can—"

The Boss's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Die, fool."

BZZZTTT!

A deafening crackle of energy filled the hall as the Artifact roared to life—

And the shot fired.