post-apocalypse I can turn anything in to a weapon

Ren's hands trembled as he stared at the now-empty street below. He had just defeated a Mutant Ghoul with nothing more than a desk lamp and his raw instincts. His pulse raced. The adrenaline from the fight still surged through him, but it was soon replaced by a creeping sense of reality. This wasn't a game.

He leaned against the cracked window frame, his head spinning. I need to get out of here.

His apartment was a mess—clothes piled on the floor, empty snack wrappers, and the remnants of his last gaming session scattered across the room. He hadn't noticed it before, but now, in the wake of his first real fight, the chaos of his surroundings felt suffocating. The walls seemed to close in on him as the weight of the situation hit him like a truck.

Ren swallowed.

What now?

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

Think like a gamer.

First, assess the situation:

The city was in ruins.

Monsters roamed the streets.

He had no food, no plan, and no backup.

His heart pounded in his chest. The weaponization skill was powerful, but it had limitations. The mana drain and cooldown meant he couldn't rely on it indefinitely.

Ren ran a hand through his hair, the stress creeping into his shoulders. I'm not going to survive this on my own.

---

A Survivor's First Step

Suddenly, there was a loud thud from the hallway. Ren's head snapped toward the door, his breath catching.

A soft voice called out from the other side.

"Is anyone there?"

Ren froze. The voice was shaky, unsure.

A survivor?

He didn't hesitate for long. Stepping quickly, he grabbed his reinforced club from the floor and crept toward the door.

The monsters might be everywhere.

Ren slowly cracked the door open, keeping his back pressed against the wall. His heart raced again—he was unprepared, but he couldn't ignore the chance of meeting another human.

"Who's there?" he called out, his voice more hoarse than he expected.

A slight figure stepped into view.

It was a young woman, maybe in her late teens, dressed in tattered clothes. She had wild, tangled hair and bloodied hands. She looked terrified, her eyes darting nervously.

"I—I saw the monster," she said, voice trembling. "I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do."

Ren sized her up quickly. She was injured—not badly, but enough to make her a liability. She wasn't armed either.

"Alright," Ren said, his voice steadying. "Listen, I'm not sure what's going on either, but we need to stick together. I'm Ren. You?"

She glanced down, almost embarrassed. "Lena."

Ren nodded. "Lena, I don't know what the hell's going on, but there's a lot more out there than that ghoul."

She shuddered. "I saw… I saw them. They just… came out of nowhere."

Ren clenched his fists around the club. This wasn't going to be easy.

---

A New Skill Awakens

Ren looked at Lena, then back at the hallway. He couldn't stay here forever—there was too much danger. They needed to move.

He opened his system window again.

"Open Skills."

He scanned through his available skills. The Weaponization skill was powerful, but his mana would run out quickly if he kept using it. He needed something else.

Then, it happened. A new skill appeared.

> [New Skill Unlocked: Survivor's Instinct]

Effect: Heightened awareness of immediate surroundings. Increases the likelihood of avoiding danger by 20%.

Passive: Automatically detect weak points in enemies when in close proximity.

Ren blinked.

Was this a passive skill?

It seemed like the system had recognized his current situation and granted him something useful. His mind raced with possibilities. This could give me the edge I need.

He needed to test it.

---

Out of the Frying Pan

Ren motioned for Lena to follow him, then cautiously opened the door.

The hall was dark, save for the eerie red glow from the cracks in the walls. The city's destruction was more apparent the further they went—rubble littered the ground, broken furniture scattered around, and the faint scent of rotting flesh lingered in the air.

The monsters could be anywhere.

Ren's instincts kicked in. He walked slowly, his head on a swivel. Every creak of the floorboard, every groan from the building set his nerves on edge.

As they reached the stairwell, a loud growl echoed from above.

Ren froze. That wasn't human.

He turned to Lena, his finger pressed to his lips.

The growl grew louder, and soon, a shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.

A mutant dog.

Its eyes were wild, glowing red in the dim light. Its skin was stretched tight over its ribs, and it had sharp teeth that snapped in the air. It looked hungry.

Lena gasped. Ren's heart raced.

He turned to her, his voice quiet but urgent. "Stay behind me. If it gets close, I'll take care of it."

But there was no time to waste.

He focused, trusting his new skill. He felt a sudden surge of awareness—his mind sharpened.

The mutant dog lunged, and Ren reacted instinctively. He swung the reinforced club just as it pounced.

CRACK!

The dog's head snapped back, but it wasn't enough to kill it. It snarled and ripped at the floor, readying itself for another attack.

Ren's heartbeat thumped in his ears. The Survivor's Instinct kicked in—he saw the weak point, the soft underbelly of the creature.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and drove the club straight into its stomach. The mutant dog let out a horrible screech, its body twitching, then finally went still.

Ren stood over it, breathing heavily.

Lena's voice trembled behind him. "You… you did it."

Ren exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "It's not over yet."

They had only just begun.