God Simulator: The Goddesses In The Simulation Are All Real

The next morning brought a quiet resolve. The faint hum of the generator and the gentle drip of the water purifier served as their wake-up call, blending seamlessly with the distant groans of zombies.

Inside the walls of their fortified base, the duo prepared for the next phase of their plan.

Aurielle leaned over the map spread out on the table, her damp hair tied back loosely.

"Alright, Emperor," she began, tracing her finger across a cluster of marked buildings. "We've got the greenhouse, water, and power. Next up, we take the vineyard—or, well, whatever patch of grapevines we can find. Then we expand further."

Linsley stood behind her, crowbar in hand, his expression calm and thoughtful. "The map shows an old market district a few blocks from here. If anyone's been hoarding food or seeds, that's where they'll be."

Aurielle tilted her head, grinning. "And if they don't feel like sharing?"

Linsley's smirk was faint but deadly. "Then they're in the wrong game."

…

The journey to the market was tense but uneventful, the duo moving with practiced precision through the city's ruins.

The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the occasional zombie shuffled aimlessly in the distance.

Linsley's crowbar made short work of the few that wandered too close, while Aurielle's pistols silenced threats before they could even reach them.

When they reached the market district, it was eerily quiet.

Shattered windows and overturned carts painted a picture of chaos long past. Yet among the debris, signs of potential awaited.

A small storefront still had its door intact, and its weathered sign read "Fresh Market" in faded lettering.

Aurielle crouched near the entrance, her pistols drawn. "Think anyone's home?"

Linsley tested the doorknob, his grip firm on the crowbar. "Only one way to find out."

The door creaked open, revealing shelves lined with jars, seeds, and what looked like homemade preserves.

The air was stale but free of the oppressive rot they'd come to expect.

Aurielle's eyes lit up. "Jackpot. Look at all this. Seeds, tools... even some dried fruit. We could start a whole damn farm."

Linsley moved further inside, inspecting a crate near the back. "And here's your grapes," he called, holding up a bundle of sealed seed packets labeled 'Concord Grape.'

Aurielle let out an exaggerated cheer, grabbing the packets from his hand. "You, sir, are a hero. This is the start of something beautiful."

Before they could celebrate further, a faint sound reached their ears—a shuffle of footsteps, quick and deliberate.

Both froze, their instincts honed by countless encounters. Aurielle spun toward the source, her pistols at the ready.

"Looks like someone else had the same idea," she murmured.

Three figures emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn.

They weren't zombies, but players. Each wore mismatched armor scavenged from the city, their expressions a mix of caution and aggression.

"Easy there," one of them said, a lanky man holding a rusty shotgun.

His tone was smooth but insincere. "We're just here to trade."

Aurielle's smile was sharp and humorless. "Funny. You don't look like traders."

The shotgun wielder chuckled, glancing at his companions—a burly man clutching a sledgehammer and a woman armed with a makeshift spear. "And you don't look like gardeners. But here we are."

Linsley stepped forward, his crowbar resting casually on his shoulder. "If you're here for the seeds, turn around. They're ours."

The woman sneered. "You think we're just going to walk away? Not a chance. Hand over the supplies, and maybe we'll let you leave."

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Aurielle tilted her head, her pistols aimed steadily at the group. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to scare us? Because it didn't."

The tension snapped like a taut wire. The shotgun wielder fired first, the blast narrowly missing Aurielle as she darted behind a shelf.

Her pistols answered with deadly precision, one shot grazing the man's shoulder and sending him stumbling.

Linsley moved like a force of nature, his crowbar colliding with the sledgehammer in a deafening clang.

The burly man growled, struggling to counter Linsley's relentless strikes. A well-timed swing knocked the sledgehammer from his grasp, and Linsley's next blow sent him sprawling.

The woman lunged at Aurielle with her spear, but Aurielle sidestepped smoothly, firing a shot into the woman's leg. She collapsed with a scream, her weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

The shotgun wielder scrambled to reload, but Linsley was already on him. A single swing of the crowbar disarmed him, and another strike ended the fight.

Aurielle stood over the downed woman, her violet eyes cold. "No loose ends," she said simply, pulling the trigger.

Linsley finished the other two with brutal efficiency, his crowbar dripping as he turned back to Aurielle. "Supplies intact?"@@novelbin@@

She nodded, crouching to gather the scattered seed packets. "Intact and ours. Let's move before we draw a crowd."

…

Back at their base, the duo unpacked their spoils with practiced efficiency.

Aurielle wasted no time setting up a corner of the greenhouse for the grapevines, her excitement unmistakable as she worked.

Linsley, meanwhile, reinforced the surrounding barricades, scavenging sturdy materials to ensure the area remained secure against potential threats.

By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, their plans were well underway.

The greenhouse had transformed from a neglected relic into a functional hub for their growing empire.

Rows of seedlings were planted with care, while one corner now housed the beginnings of their fermentation station. Jars of honey, sacks of sugar, and yeast packets stood neatly arranged—symbols of their soon-to-be vineyard empire.

As twilight settled over the city, the duo regrouped in their apartment, the hum of the generator and the rhythmic trickle of the water purifier creating a soothing backdrop.

Aurielle flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, brushing dirt from her hands. "Hot showers, clean water, fresh food, and now wine in the making. If this isn't luxury, I don't know what is."

Linsley joined her, setting down a makeshift tray with two glasses of freshly filtered water. "Luxury's a strange word for it," he said, his smirk softening as he handed her a glass. "But it's working."