Strongest Deliveryman In The Apocalypse

The first light of dawn bled across the wasteland, painting the jagged horizon in a thin wash of red. Out beyond the production zone's rusting gates, armored transports idled in formation, their heavy engines thudding like distant war drums.

This was the convoy.

Dozens of reinforced haulers, each loaded to the brim with processed metals, compressed fuel cells, and crates of rare alloys needed at the frontier outpost.

Their worth was incalculable.

Without this shipment, the outpost would grind to a halt within weeks.

Which was why the Association had dispatched Riders.

Three heavy bikes, two sand-crawlers fitted with shock cannons, and one sleek, matte-black dune racer lined up before the convoy. Each bore the proud insignias of D-Rank Riders. And at the center, astride a gleaming reinforced quad, was the convoy leader—a C-Rank Rider named Jarek.

Jarek was built like the front of a truck.

His bald head shone in the light, and his scarred arms flexed easily as he adjusted his gauntlets. Everyone in the Association knew him: a rising talent, already leading full convoy missions by his late twenties.

His mere presence was reassurance for the convoy's escorts.

And then… there was Sobin.

Bessie's weathered frame rolled up the ridge and rumbled into view. Dust plumed behind her like a second sunrise.

The other Riders turned to look—and instantly, whispers began.

"...That's him? The E-Rank?"

"Seriously? HQ sent an E-Rank to this mission? It must be for Re-evaluation or something."

"He's probably just tagging along. No way he'll actually contribute."

"But is he supposed to be here already? Shouldn't it have taken a few more weeks or something?"

Indeed! Sobin was only supposed to appear once they were almost done with their treacherous journey, yet he had arrived before they even set off. This was a mystery to the Riders, but since they weren't bureaucratic by nature, they let the matter go.

It wasn't their business anyway—especially since Sobin had properly identified himself.

"Meh… as long as I get paid, I'm good." Most of them held this stance, so they didn't think too deeply about Sobin's strange punctuality.

Sobin parked Bessie lazily behind the convoy, leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head. To the sneers and side-eyes of the other Riders, he seemed oblivious.

Jarek, however, wasn't so subtle.

He drove his quad forward until it stopped just short of Bessie's bumper.

His voice carried, low and firm.

"Rider Sobin, correct?"

Sobin blinked and sat up. "Yeah. That's me."

"You understand the terms of this mission? This isn't a joyride. Convoy escorts are long, grueling, and dangerous. Monsters lurk in every dune. Raiders prowl every ridge. We need Riders who can carry their weight."

"Sounds good," Sobin said cheerfully, patting Bessie's dash. "I'll keep up."

A ripple of derisive laughter spread among the Riders. One of the D-Ranks scoffed.

"Keep up? Kid, just don't slow us down."

Jarek gave a curt nod, though his eyes were hard. "Fine. Fall in at the rear. And if things get bad… stay out of the way."

Sobin grinned. "Sure thing, boss."

The convoy began to roll.

Hours stretched long as the transports crawled across the wasteland, their heavy wheels groaning over uneven terrain. The sun climbed, then burned hot overhead, baking the Riders in their armor.

Sobin lounged in Bessie's cabin, one hand on the wheel, humming to himself. Compared to his usual solo deliveries across death-trap routes, this crawl was painfully slow.

'Man, at this rate, I could've done three deliveries already,' he thought, stifling a yawn. He glanced at the Riders up ahead, slicing through dunes with practiced maneuvers, posturing as though their every move was critical.

To him, it all looked like kids playing at being serious.

*******

The first monsters arrived at noon.

A pack of Razorbeasts burst from the sand, tusks glinting, eyes crazed with hunger. The convoy halted, and immediately the D-Rank Riders sprang into action.

Engines roared. Blades and cannons flashed. Within minutes, the beasts were scattered, their corpses smoking on the sand.

The escorts cheered themselves, slapping shoulders and revving engines in celebration.

Sobin scratched his head. "All that for a couple of mutts? Tch. They even let two get close to the transports."

He tapped Bessie's wheel. She could've flattened the whole pack in seconds. But no one asked, so he stayed put.

And the mission dragged on.

By evening, the mood had shifted.

The convoy moved slower. The Riders sweated harder. Every so often, another wave of monsters struck, forcing the group into another skirmish.

They always prevailed—but sloppily.

Sobin watched them, unimpressed. 'These guys are D-Rank? They waste so much energy on small fry. If it were me, I'd just honk the horn and scare half of them off.'

"They're so weak, Master! None of them compare to you!"

The System, which had been silent for so long finally had no choice but to comment.

[You're not an ordinary Rider, Sobin. Your otherworldly energy makes you very dangerous to the residents of this world, and that includes Monsters. You scare them, so most of them wouldn't even find trouble with you]

"Is that so…? Then would you mind sending me home?"

[I already told you… NO.]

"Was worth a shot anyway…" Sobin sighed, resting his cheek against his hand as Bessie trundled on.

Then the ground trembled.

Not a small tremor. Not the skittering of beasts.

BOOOOOM!!!

A thunderous quake rolled beneath the sands, deep and resonant. Transports shuddered, suspension creaking. The lead Rider nearly lost control of his bike.

Everyone froze.

Then, with an earth-splitting roar, the dune ahead exploded.

Sand geysered skyward. From the depths emerged a massive, writhing body—segmented, armored, and covered in jagged ridges. Rows of teeth gnashed in a circular maw large enough to swallow a truck whole.

A Giant Sandworm—Rank C!

The Riders paled.

"Sandworm!" someone shouted.

"Damn it—how did it get this close?!"

"Protect the convoy!"

Panic rippled instantly. Engines sputtered as Riders scrambled for formation.

Sobin tilted his head. "...That's it? All this fuss over a big worm?"

His neighbor, one of the convoy escorts, gawked at him. "That's a C-Rank! Don't you get it?! It takes multiple C-Rank Riders working together to take down one Sandworm! And we only have Jarek—"

Sobin glanced toward the leader.

Jarek's face had drained of color. His quad idled motionless. His gauntlets trembled visibly on the handles.

He wasn't moving.

The convoy guards shouted for orders. The D-Rank Riders yelled strategies that overlapped, contradicting one another. The Sandworm screeched again, lurching toward the first transport.

The whole mission was seconds from collapse.

Sobin sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Unbelievable. You guys are panicking over this? If I don't do something, the cargo's toast."

He slipped Bessie into gear.

The truck rumbled forward, smooth and steady, cutting through the Riders' chaos like a ship through calm water.

Gasps followed him.

"What's he doing?!"

"Is he insane?!"

"That's suicide!"

The Sandworm loomed overhead, its maw opening wide.

Sobin tapped the steering wheel once. "Bessie, let's wrap this up."

"YES MASTER!" The engine roared.

With a speed that defied her weathered frame, Bessie surged forward. Sand exploded behind her wheels as she shot straight into the monster's path.

The Sandworm lunged—

—and Bessie slammed into it.

BAM!

The impact was cataclysmic—a thunderclap of steel against flesh!

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!

Segments shattered like brittle clay. The Sandworm's shriek was cut short as its colossal body folded inward, torn apart in an instant.

Chunks of monster flesh rained across the desert, steaming and twitching. The ground quaked as its bulk collapsed lifelessly into the sand.

Silence followed.

Every Rider, every escort, every guard stared wide-eyed at the smoking remains.

One strike. One hit. The C-Rank threat reduced to scattered meat.

By an E-Rank.

Sobin rolled Bessie to a stop. He leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms casually.

"Finally. Some breathing room. Now maybe this convoy won't take a hundred years."

His words cut through the stunned silence, casual as a man complaining about traffic.

The Riders could only gape.

Jarek's lips trembled, his pride shattering like the Sandworm's shell.

And Sharon's orders to capture Sobin, still crawling through the Association's networks miles away, had yet to reach this convoy. Since he had arrived here so quickly, they hadn't been informed that he was a suspicious man.

To them, Sobin was still just an E-Rank Rider.

Except now… no one dared to believe it.