Fallout Game Merchant 2.0

The world plunged into a new Ice Age. As the frozen apocalypse spread, 95% of humanity perished. In his first timeline, Cyrus Knovell's kindness cost him everything. The people he had helped betrayed him and left him for dead. Fate, however, granted him a second chance. He awakened one month before the world froze, gaining a dimensional ability that let him store anything without limit. Now he hoarded supplies by the billions and built a fortress no one could breach. While others shivered, starved, and traded their dignity for a morsel, Cyrus lived in comfort. The desperate came begging. The manipulative vixen: "Cyrus, let me into your shelter, and I'll be your girlfriend, okay?" The spoiled rich heir: "Cyrus, I'll give you all my money for just one meal!" The greedy neighbors: "Cyrus, you shouldn't be so selfish. You should share your supplies with us!" Cyrus remembered their betrayals. Lounging in his steel fortress and savoring his private paradise, he sneered, "Your survival has nothing to do with me. I'd rather feed the dogs than feed you."

I didn't want to be a hero, I was forced into this. Or death is my punishment, but I don't want to experience it anymore. So, I guess I'll need to save this world even if I don't want to. I'm just reincarnated here to be a merchant after all from what I can see. Let's do this! Kill this Von Cron`e Gon guy. He doesn't stand a chance against me and my allies.

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.

After being chosen by a horror game, I took over a food stall in a small town. A ghoul tried to eat me, his huge, bloody mouth a gaping maw, but I quickly shoved a focaccia sandwich into it. He chewed and then said, “Oh, forget it. With food to eat, I’ll kill her tomorrow.” The next day, I made delicious pierogies, then skewers and stews. All the ghouls who stopped by gave up on trying to kill me, focusing on eating instead. The audience watching me was shocked that I could survive all the way to the end with just my cooking.

I get reborn, this time bound to a simp system. In my previous life, when the apocalypse happened during Christmas Eve, I gave Victoria Blake, a beautiful woman, shelter and respite, only for her to backstab me in the end. Apparently, she had revealed my home's location to a scion named Tristan Cole when I wasn't paying attention. Not only did those bastards take over my shelter, but they also tossed me to the zombie horde. When Tristan asked Victoria if she felt guilty, she just reclined in his arms while tittering daintily. "That's just one of the lapdogs I've reared. If he's dead, then so be it." Now that I'm given a second chance at life, I'll make sure to repay them for the pain and hurt they've caused me in my previous life.

One day, billions woke up on an endless highway. One vehicle each. One life each. No exits. Others got scooters, bicycles, or tractors. Jake Maddox got a beat-up motorhome. Level-one zombies have 20 strength. Humans have 5. And Cthulhu monsters lurk in the mist. This isn't a game—it's a slaughter. But Jake has a cheat: Gold Mods. He glances at his status screen and smirks. "Not enough stats? Gold mods to the rescue." [Fuel Tank] + [Infinite] = unlimited fuel. Floor it and leave everyone choking on dust. [Tires] + [Indestructible] = unbreakable, unshakable, unstoppable. No attack gets through. [Motorhome] + [Spatial Folding] = a mobile fortress that fits it all — storage, pool, villa, armory, and more. [Windows] + [One-Way Transparent] = armored steel to the outside, panoramic views from within. Total safety, zero claustrophobia. While others shiver and barter their souls for half a bottle of gas, Jake sits in his climate-controlled motorhome, eating a steaming-hot chicken pie, watching a Cthulhu boss try to break in. His calm response? "That tentacle would taste pretty good grilled." … From Lv.1 Beater Motorhome to Lv.100 Ark of the Old Ages—as long as Jake can imagine it, no mod is off the table. Gold mods. Show me your limits.