The steel door, bristling with spikes, opened slowly, followed by the steady sound of footsteps. For some reason, everyone’s throats tightened, feeling an involuntary sense of tension. After all, the 18th floor had killed before—they’d seen it with their own eyes. Here they came—slim, straight legs, with a sharp blade gleaming in hand. The 18th floor had some nerve, sending that ruthless young girl to lead the charge. What monsters! Behind her was the rumored national college boxing champ, a guy who could supposedly punch someone’s head clean off. Look—he’s got professional gear, with gloves the size of kettles. Then came two more men. One was holding a baseball bat, and the other... a spiked club?It was modified—a wooden bat embedded with rusty, sharp nails. One swing of that thing, and it’d be a straight ticket to the afterlife without a tetanus shot. Finally, at the back of the group, stood the 18th floor’s "face" and tallest representative. He sported a clean-cut buzz, a sharp, handsome face, and wore a casual grey outfit with his hands buried in his pockets. He looked like he was out for a weekend stroll, not a fight, and if that wasn’t irritating enough—their dog came too! These jerks claimed they didn’t have food. However, in such a short time, they’d fattened up a stray dog! Outraged, the crowd’s greed intensified, and they regretted their previous demands. They shouldn’t settle for a third of the supplies—they wanted it all. Everything from the 18th floor belonged to them now, including that dog! In this apocalypse, dogs were food, plain and simple. But here it was, feasting on what should’ve been theirs. As they clenched their fists and licked their lips, they could almost taste the victory that seemed so close. However, when Hunter saw the 18th floor's gear, a chill crept into his gut. These guys weren’t giving up their food without a fight. "Mr. Thatcher, what’s the meaning of this, bringing all these people to break down our door?" Nadia looked around at the packed hallway on the 17th floor. Not a single old person or child was in sight—just men, each one either openly holding a weapon or with one hidden in their clothes. In this building, there was every kind of person, with some looking healthy, and others sallow and gaunt. Regardless of their situation, all of them had their eyes on the 18th floor. Nadia looked at each face and, sure enough, spotted Wayne and a few others in the crowd. Heh. They’d lost weight, their eyes hungry for food, faces pale and haggard. That cocky swagger of the former campus "pretty boy" was long gone. Seeing the setup on the 18th floor, Hunter forced a smile to mask his nerves. "Nadia, we just came to talk. No need to go all out like this." Nadia cut to the chase. "The 18th floor doesn’t have what you’re looking for. And whatever we do have, we risked our lives for. Don’t even think about it." "Oh, come on, Nadia. We’re only asking because we’ve hit rock bottom." Despite the numbers on his side, Hunter wasn't eager to fight. He tried to play it off, his tone casual as he addressed the crowd. "We're all in the same boat here," he said, attempting to sound reasonable. "We have to come together, pool our resources, and use our strengths. That's the only way we’ll survive, right?" He gestured to the gathered men, his voice rising with a mix of authority and feigned camaraderie. "In these times, we’ve decided not to leave anyone behind. All resources go into one pot, and from now on, we share equally. No one in this building goes hungry." Hunter paused, scanning the room to make sure his words hit home. "Everyone else has pitched in. The 18th floor can’t play favorites, can they?" Hearing his self-righteous words, Nadia sneered. "And what if we say no?" "If it’s impossible, we’ll settle for a third of your supplies. We’ll pay it back when things get better," Hunter’s smile froze, trying hard to keep it together. "If you don’t believe me, we can write a promissory note." "Not happening." So, there was no more room for discussion. Tension crackled in the air. With confidence in their numbers, someone in the crowd shouted, "Forget it, Hunter! Just bust down the door and take it!" "Yeah, break it down! They were heartless first—don’t blame us for being ruthless!" "Think about it, Nadia. We’re all in the same building. No need to make this so ugly." Hunter’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly adopted a pleading look, as if the situation were a heavy burden on him. "You guys aren’t exactly starving. Why not give us a little?" "If you’re so keen on breaking down the door, go ahead," Nadia shot back. "Fine, we will! What are you gonna do about it?" One of the crazed, starving men lunged at the door with a crowbar. Nadia didn’t even draw her blade. Instead, she pulled a small object from her pocket and aimed it through the metal gate right at the man’s head. "Go ahead. Move another inch." "A gun—she’s got a gun!" The crowd recoiled, stumbling over one another to back away, terrified of stray bullets. Hunter’s face went pale. "Nadia, what are you doing?" Nadia’s gaze stayed icy. "Exactly what you asked for.""Let’s be reasonable!" Hunter’s heart raced as he spoke, his voice shaking. "Don’t do anything crazy." Nadia gave a cold smile. "Don’t worry. I’m more focused than I’ve ever been." "Don’t let her bluff you. It’s a plastic toy!" A mocking voice rang out from the crowd, raspy and low. Nadia’s eyes narrowed. "Wayne, if you’re a man, come out here. Quit hiding like a coward." Wayne felt a surge of rage. He’d tried his best to stay hidden, even wearing a hat, but Nadia spotted him anyway. Glaring, he snapped, "Nadia, I can’t believe how selfish you’ve become. You’re sitting on supplies and refusing to share! What’s the harm in helping us?" "Oh, I’m selfish? So what?" Nadia’s mouth twisted into a smirk. "I didn’t steal or cheat anyone. We worked for every scrap. Unlike you, who’s been getting by on favors, sucking up to anyone with supplies."In this world, survival came first. Who cared about dignity or pride? It started with women, but soon even some of the attractive guys got in on it, too. Survival was survival; nothing shameful in that. It was an open secret, but saying it out loud was another matter. People chuckled, casting amused glances at Wayne, who turned beet red. In a world like this, law and order had collapsed, and survival ruled over all. Most people with ample supplies had done unspeakable things to get them. Trapped here, with nowhere to go, they needed some form of amusement. Anything went. Wayne was the classic pretty boy type; it wasn’t a stretch to see how he got by. "Nadia, if you keep spewing nonsense…" Wayne’s face contorted in anger as he lunged forward, fists clenched. "You think I won’t hit you?" As if she feared his bluster, Nadia opened the gate, waving her gun playfully. "Come on, then. Bring it." The door wide open, Wayne’s bravado vanished. With everyone’s eyes on him, he gritted his teeth, muttering through clenched jaws, "Don’t let her scare you. That thing’s a toy."