In the third month of the apocalypse, I hid in the largest supermarket chain in the city.
Outside, for half a piece of moldy biscuit, the former neighbors would kill each other with swords, and the former goddess was willing to sell everything.
And I am debating whether to have M9 grade Wagyu Teppanyaki for tonight's midnight snack, or open a can of replica abalone that was specially served before the apocalypse.
Outside the door, my ex-girlfriend who was hooking up with the gang boss was leading dozens of strong men to smash down the door, screaming at me to hand over all my supplies and spare my life.
I slowly cut off a piece of steak with a newly copied table knife, dipped it in some black pepper juice and put it in my mouth.
Yeah, tender and juicy.
After eating and drinking, I walked to the door of the warehouse, looked at their desperate and greedy faces on the surveillance camera, and burped.
Then, I silently consumed the 10 energy cores I had just removed from the monster.
Bite!
God-level copying system prompts: 100 six-barreled Gatling guns and 500,000 rounds of ammunition have been copied.
I opened the warehouse door and showed a kind smile to the group of hungry guys with green eyes outside.
"Everyone, are you hungry? Do you want to eat some... Piping hot peanuts?"
