Weeks passed for John. The humdrum of the day-to-day filled his life.

Every day, he would wake up. Look at the ceiling with terror and confusion filling his mind. And then get out of bed.

He'd brush his teeth. Take a yoga shower, as any fat person would. Then, he would go downstairs and eat his breakfast.

After doing that, he would follow Jean's orders and kill some trolls.

Some days, he would almost collapse from the sheer exhaustion the walks put him through. His squad was always understanding and would wait for him to get up again.

The walks were hell. But at least a number went up because of it.

{+30 to cardio vascular}

Pretty soon, he could manage the walks quite easily. He would only need to sit down and take a break once a week instead of six times a week. Not only that. Because of all the food he got from eating the Trolls and the food that Jean gave to him. He had made other stat gains, too.

{+40 to strength and toughness}

This is what his status screen looked like after those weeks passed.

{Name: John Turner

Race: Human

Height: 7"2

Weight: 600 lbs

System: Glutton system

Stat modifier: Weight / (Height x 33.33333333)

Stats: Strength 117 X (2.5 × (Feet above five foot = 2.2) ) = 643.5 | agility 51 / (2.5 × (Feet above five foot = 2.2) = 11 toughness 117X (2.5) + (10% of strength) = | Cardiovascular endurance 72 / (2.5 (Feet above five foot = 2.2) = 13 Consumption 100

Skills: Ultimate guzzler, steel stomach, Human throat

Current bmr calorie requirements: 3967 (This does not factor in exercise)

}

He had gotten so tough that shots from a handgun only had the power to bruise him. He would not be significantly damaged unless they hit him in the eye or the nose or some other orifices. John knew this. One day, they had fought a group of Trolls who had managed to get their hands on handguns. John tanked the hail of gunfire, and after the battle, he was swollen and blue. But very, very alive.

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They had checked for rubber bullets and were astonished when they saw that the bullets were metal.

John was now so strong that he could carry three cars stacked on top of each other on his back.

John knew this because one day Jean had asked John to bring back any sports cars he found on his trip back to the mansion.

John collapsed six times from exhaustion that day. And each time, the cars fell on top of him. They would trap him on the ground until he caught his breath.

John wasn't the only one to grow, though. His babies did too.

Stove grew from the size of a small chihuahua to the size of a bear. Refrigerator grew from the size of a chihuahua to the size of a German shepherd. Band-aid grew the least out of all of them. He grew from the size of a chihuahua to the size of a miniature schnauzer.

But regardless, they all grew.

John was filled with a sense of Joy when he saw his babies growing larger. It meant they had to be eating well. And eating was always good. Or at least. That was John's motto.

...….

TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK!

Who has all the time in the world? Because Nathanial certainly didn't. He was almost out of time.

I need to find John Turner.

The man who could kill Nathanial. The man who would kill Nathanial. The man who was a monster. No. Worse than that. He was the man who raised monsters.

He was the worst kind of monster. The monster that bred itself.

Nathanial had to kill him before he ran out of time. If John got too strong, Nathanial knew that murder would be impossible.

Nathanial was a canny man. He knew what he thought was the truth.

So then where is he?

That question, that question is why Nathanial was standing here now.

Nathanial stood in an off-white office that was filled with the sound of clicking keys and hushed whispers.

He stood in a line filled with men and women who all only had one thing in common. The pitless screams of dead souls surrounded them.

Nathanial, as one of the dead, could hear this sound clearly.

All the people in this line were prolific killers.

And Nathanial was no exception.

In the last week alone, he had ended a hundred lives.

Such was the sin and virtue of an assassin.

The office he was in was known as the Warrior inquiry office. It was the only office of it's kind in the Sunshine Republic.

The Sunshine Republic had sixty-six million people living in it before the war. And sixty thousand of those people were warriors.

So, the offices were always understandably packed.

Nathanial had been waiting in line for six days.

If it weren't for his undead nature, he would have had to leave the line to piss or shit long ago. And without someone to hold his place. He would have been screwed.

John ducked his head out of the line.

There were only three people ahead of him.

Just a bit longer…..

.

…

...

...…

It took an hour. But finally, Nathanial was there.

The secretary at the desk looked up at John with a glare so deep and so intense. Nathanial was surprised that he couldn't see any dead souls around her. Because that glare really could kill.

The secretary was a woman with a stick skinny frame and a gaunt face. It was almost like her skin was pulled onto her face.

She had a mighty glare on her.

"Hi, cutie. I just want to know the location of the new Warrior John Turner." Said Nathanial

"Thanks. You look pretty ugly yourself as for the record breaker. He's currently living in the house of the fifth most wealthy man in the Sunshine Republic. He's corralled up a group of Warriors for some reason." Said the Secretary

Nathanial nodded.

"Alright. I'll go Shoegel where he lives." Nathanial turned around and left the line.

"You do that, you pale half-dead asshole." Said the secretary.

Nathanial left without a word in response. He had bigger fish to fry at the moment.