Strongest Deliveryman In The Apocalypse

Sharon hated wasting time.

Especially in places like Zone E-46—the frontier.

This was the last strip of habitable territory before the lands turned into unending monster territory. The air here was sharp, almost metallic, as if the wasteland was reminding everyone that humanity was barely clinging to life.

If she and her entourage hadn't come here, there would be no traces of flesh within the radius of this place—only machines remotely piloted by experts.

Her boots clicked against the reinforced asphalt of the patrol road as she finished her inspection.

A dozen armored soldiers saluted her before dispersing back to their checkpoints.

"Nothing," Sharon muttered to herself, arms folded. "No breach, no movement, not even a ripple on the scanners."

The escort at her side, a young man, hesitated before speaking. "Ma'am, maybe the image was—"

"Scrambled? I know what you're going to say." She cut him off, sharp eyes narrowing on the horizon. "And I don't like being paranoid either. But don't forget—that S-Rank Deepcrawler King just exploded without any identifiable cause last week. A monster like that doesn't just… die. Something definitely killed it."

The aide shuddered as he remembered.

"It couldn't have been a Rider. Not even an S-Rank Rider would take that thing alone."

"Exactly." Sharon's lips pressed thin. "So the question is… what did?"

The wasteland wind howled as though mocking her unease.

Sharon sighed and shook her head. Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe the world wasn't always one step away from collapse.

Then, in the distance, she heard it.

VROOOOM.

The sound of an engine. A large one.

She turned, expecting a military patrol. Instead…

A battered old truck came rumbling down the cracked road, its engine growling with confidence completely at odds with its aged, yet shimmering body.

"…What the hell?" Sharon blinked. "Who drives a civilian truck in this zone?"

The truck slowed as it neared the checkpoint.

The driver—a young man with messy brown hair, dust-streaked clothes, and an expression of calm indifference—casually pulled to the side.

He leaned out of the window and gave a polite nod, as if he were dropping off groceries instead of intruding on one of the most heavily monitored areas in the sector.

"Evening," he said. "Road's clear today."

Sharon's eye twitched. "Stop the vehicle!"

The robot soldiers tensed, weapons ready. The driver blinked, confused, before slowly parking.

He stepped out, dusting his jacket. "What's this about? Do you want to see my RDC?"

"This is a high-security zone," Sharon said, striding up to him. Her presence made the soldiers and escorts stiffen even straighter.

"Who are you, and what rank are you?"

The man pointed casually to himself. "Me? Rider. E-Rank. Name's Sobin."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sharon stared at him as if he'd claimed to be a farmer who had wandered into a nuclear bunker.

"...E-Rank?"

"Yeah." He nodded, unfazed. "Why?"

She tilted her head. "Do you have any idea where you are right now?"

"Uh…" Sobin scratched the back of his head. "... Zone E-46, right? GPS says I'm here, and I recognize the area, so—"

"How were you even allowed in?" Sharon's brows shot up. "You're inside the frontier defense line. This isn't a tourist stop. Only Riders with high clearance—or soldiers under command—have access here. And you claim you're an E-Rank?"

Sobin's face stiffened. His first thought was immediate: 'Crap. I'm in trouble, aren't I?'

Quickly, he raised both hands in mock surrender.

"Wait, wait—don't misunderstand. I didn't sneak in! I was asked to come here for my Rank Re-evaluation. Official orders. Association's seal and everything."

He pulled out his RCD and shoved the message on screen in front of her.

Sharon squinted at the glowing seal of the Rider Association.

It was actually genuine!

Her frown deepened. "Re-evaluation… here? For an E-Rank?"

"That's what it says," Sobin said, shrugging like this was the most normal thing in the world. "I figured I just had to show up and take some tests. Honestly, I thought you were the examiners at first. Was about to ask where the sign-in sheet was."

Sharon pressed her palm to her temple.

'This doesn't make sense. Re-evaluations are usually handled in mid-tier zones, not the central frontier hub. Why is an E-Rank being called here?'

Then it clicked.

If Sobin had registered as a Rider here, then the system would force him to return to this sector for formal re-evaluation.

But why would someone so low-ranked be allowed to register here in the first place?

She eyed him more closely.

His stance wasn't nervous. His tone wasn't defensive. He looked… almost bored. That wasn't how E-Ranks usually acted in her presence.

'Does he not know who I am?' Sharon wondered.

"Interesting…" she murmured.

Sobin misread her thoughtful expression instantly. His gut tightened.

'Is she angry? Do they fine you for showing up early? Crap, maybe I should've taken my time before coming…'

It seemed like the culture of this Apocalyptic world was to be tardy.

Sobin had experienced this firsthand in every delivery he ever made, so he was used to it at this point. He expected the Rider Association to be different, but they clearly also operated on the same wavelength as everyone else.

'Maybe they haven't even prepared for the Re-evaluation. Should I come back later?'

Thankfully, before Sobin could spiral further, Sharon spoke. "I'd like to observe your Re-evaluation."

"Huh?"

"You heard me." She folded her arms. "I want to see exactly what kind of Rider you are. Is that a problem?"

Sobin blinked.

From her crisp suit, commanding tone, and the way soldiers obeyed her without question, he assumed she was some kind of upper-tier bureaucrat.

Maybe even a wealthy businesswoman funding the Riders.

If that was the case…

He straightened his posture and forced a professional smile. "Of course not, ma'am. Always glad to make a good impression on potential clients."

"Clients?" Sharon almost choked.

"Yeah. You look like the kind of person who might need bulk deliveries in the future. Just putting it out there—I handle fragile items, perishables, and even express requests. Guaranteed satisfaction."

The escort beside Sharon coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. She immediately glared at him until he snapped back to attention.

Meanwhile, Sobin was already opening Bessie's passenger door. "If you'd like, you can ride along. Front seat's got the best view."

The soldiers gawked as Sharon—leader of Sector E's Zone leadership, the woman feared and respected across the frontier—was casually invited into a rusty delivery truck like she was carpooling to the market.

And to their horror… she accepted.

"Very well," Sharon said coolly, though her lips twitched at the absurdity. "I'll take you up on your offer."

She climbed in, brushing imaginary dust from the seat before settling with rigid poise.

"Tch!" Bessie's voice echoed silently.

Sobin slid into the driver's side, adjusting the mirrors with practiced motions. "Seatbelt's on the right. Bessie can be a little bumpy."

"Bessie?"

"My partner," Sobin said, patting the dashboard. The truck purred in response, almost smugly.

Sharon arched a brow. "You named your vehicle."

"Of course." Sobin's tone was dead serious. "You don't spend this much time together without forming a bond. She's got more personality than most Riders I've met."

The truck honked twice, as if agreeing.

Sharon sat back, stunned. '…Is he joking, or does he actually think the truck understands him?'

She was certain that this Rider was mentally unstable.

If that was the cause, she actually needed to keep an eye on him, especially in such a highly sensitive zone. She had initially wondered if he could be a spy or secret Plunderer, but the idiot was clearly too stupid for that.

Unknown to Sharon, Sobin's behavior was fairly normal.

He wasn't crazy at all.

Bessie could actually communicate, so he wasn't exaggerating anything. Besides, since he was simply a go-lucky guy who had found himself in a misunderstanding, who could blame him for how he acted?

Of course, neither Sharon nor Sobin knew the full situation, so they could only rely on their respective perspectives.

Such a shame, really… they both really meant well.