Chapter 7 : The Literal Weight of Survival…

You know, I used to think survival was about being smart. Having a plan, and staying ahead of the undead.

Turns out, sometimes survival is just about lifting heavy crap over and over until your arms stop shaking and your legs don't give out.

That's what my life had become; moving supplies, night after night, like a ghost hauling her unfinished business.

I locked my car, glancing down the quiet street. My storage unit sat in the same depressing row as a dozen others, each one a rented warehouse of someone's hoarded dreams.

You already know that mine was packed with something a little more useful than dusty old furniture and childhood trophies…I'm talking about; food, water, medicine, tools. Anything that could be traded or used when the world went to hell.

I yanked open the rolling metal door. Stacks of crates glowed under the dim LED light; canned goods, energy bars, MREs, and more. I exhaled. Just a few more nights.

The Grind Continues.

At first, it was miserable.

The crates weren't impossibly heavy, maybe 20, 30 kilos each… But after carrying them for blocks, it felt like my arms were going to fall off.

The first night, my body screamed in protest but the only thing that kept me going was the annoying notification saying "YOUR STRENGTH HAS MILDLY INCREASED".

By the end of the first night, my shoulders burned, my legs felt like lead, and by the time I dumped the last crate into the bank vault, I was practically crawling back to my car.

And then, the Cherub System pinged me.

...….STRENGTH +0.1

CARRY WEIGHT THRESHOLD INCREASED BY 2KG

It was one of the first times the system acknowledged something so mundane. No flashy rewards, no overpowered skills…just a tiny nudge.

A reminder that I was getting stronger.

That stupid notification got stuck in my head.

The next night, when I wanted to quit after two trips? I pushed through for a third. The night after? Four. Each time, the system whispered annoying notifications of encouragements in golden letters, little breadcrumbs leading me forward.

And slowly, it stopped feeling like a struggle.

My arms didn't shake as much.

My breath evened out.

My grip tightened instead of slipping.

Three weeks in, I wasn't just lifting crates, I was stacking two at a time.

A month later, I was carrying three.

Somewhere along the way, exhaustion turned into a challenge. I wasn't just doing this to stockpile anymore. I wanted to see how far I could go.

Not everyone ignored my late-night marathons.

Mr. Harrison, the old bank security guard, had been watching.

I noticed him watching me one night, standing outside the security booth with his arms crossed, squinting like he was looking for ghosts.

"You got yourself a new workout plan, missy?" he asked casually as I passed by, a crate tucked under each arm.

I forced a laugh. "Something like that. Gotta stay fit."

"Uh-huh," he said, tapping his flashlight against his hand. His eyes darted between the car, overflowing with supplies. Way too much for me to have unloaded by myself and me. He clearly expected me to be gasping for air on the ground, completely worn out.

Instead, I was standing there, perfectly fine.

I walked past him without another word.

After that, I felt his eyes on me more often.

Some nights, I'd catch a glimpse of him behind the security cameras, watching the feed. Other times, he'd loiter near the parking lot when I arrived, like he was just happening to take a smoke break at 3 AM.

Once, I tried unloading five crates at once, just to see if I could. His sharp inhale was loud enough that I almost laughed.

By the time I reached my final transfer night, moving supplies wasn't a chore anymore, it was instinct.

The last crate sat at the edge of my storage unit, waiting. I rolled my shoulders, gripping it tight. My fingers curled around the reinforced edges.

Just one more trip.

I carried it out onto the empty street, adjusting my grip as I walked. My pace was steady, effortless.

This was the last of it. After months of work, the vault was full.

I was ready.

That should've been the end of it.

But as I stacked the final crate inside the underground vault, the system did something it had never done before.

Golden light exploded across my vision.

...….HIDDEN CONDITION ACHIEVED!

REWARD: DIMENSIONAL STORAGE UNLOCKED

I stumbled back, my breath catching in my throat.

Dimensional Storage?

I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes, but the golden symbols didn't go away. They hovered in front of me, floating like weightless ink against the air.

...….HIDDEN CONDITION ACHIEVED!

REWARD: DIMENSIONAL STORAGE UNLOCKED

My pulse hammered.

Dimensional Storage?

I had seen plenty of system rewards; tiny strength increases, minor stamina boosts, boring stuff.

But this? This was different.

A quiet hum filled my ears, not a sound exactly, more like a vibration deep in my bones. Instinctively, I reached out with my mind, half-expecting nothing to happen.

Something answered.

A void..vast, empty, endless..unfurled inside a place that I can sort of see and feel.

It wasn't dark, not exactly.

More like a space that had never needed light in the first place.

A sense of weightlessness pressed against me, like standing on the edge of a deep, bottomless lake.

And then.. my fingers twitched, and the crate in front of me vanished.

No sound.

No delay.

Just…gone.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Holy shit.

I crouched down, waving a hand through the air where the crate had been. Nothing. The concrete floor was bare.

Had I just… destroyed it?

No, that didn't feel right.

I could still sense it, floating inside that weightless space. Like I had put it somewhere else.

I focused again, reaching for that strange connection. Come back.

The crate reappeared instantly, landing with a dull thud.

I staggered backward, my mind racing.

Not only was this real, but it was instant. No weird delays, no animations, just…in and out, like magic.

This wasn't just storage. This was power.

And it was mine.