Chapter 341: Hot Cheesy Pizza

The clearing was alive with activity, the survivors huddled around a makeshift fire, their hands busy as they boiled the mushrooms and berries they’d scavenged, trying to create some kind of soup.

The air was thick with the scent of earth, smoke, and desperation, the steam rising from the pot mixing with the acrid smell of burning wood. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their clothes stained, but their eyes burned with a fragile triumph—as if they’d conquered the forest itself.

And then there were the looks. The arrogant, smug glances thrown my way, as if they’d won something. As if they’d proven something.

Some of them even came closer, holding their bowls of mushroom broth like trophies, flaunting it in our faces. One of the men—a burly guy with a scruffy beard and greasy hair—grinned at Angela and Lisa, his eyes raking over them in a way that made their skin crawl.

"Beauty..." he said, his voice slick, mocking, "why don’t you come to our side?" His smile was greasy, his tone dripping with false generosity. "So you don’t have to go hungry..." He licked his lips, his gaze lingering on Angela’s curves, then Lisa’s, as if they were already his.

Angela’s fingers twitched, her eyes flashing with rage. Lisa’s hand drifted toward the knife at her belt, her expression cold, deadly. I could feel the tension coiling in them, ready to snap.

I chuckled, my voice low, amused, dangerous. "You don’t have to worry about my women." My smile was razor-sharp, my tone cold. "We have enough to eat and drink." I leaned back against the tree, my gaze locking onto them, unflinching. "Don’t worry."

The men scoffed, their smirks twisting into disgust. "Suit yourself..." one of them spat, turning away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Enjoy starving, bastards."

I didn’t bother with them anymore. Instead, I opened the

Supermarket Store

—my own personal gateway to luxury in this godforsaken wasteland. With a thought, I selected three large, cheesy pizzas—extra cheese, pepperoni, and loaded with spicy toppings—and a set of ice-cold drinks. The items materialized in my system storage, ready for retrieval.

I turned away from the group, my hand disappearing behind the tree. With a flick of my wrist, the pizza boxes and drinks appeared in my grip, steaming and fresh, as if they’d just been pulled from the oven. The cheese was bubbling, golden, stretching as I opened the first box. The scent of melted mozzarella, tomato sauce, and spices filled the air, rich and intoxicating.

Angela and Lisa knew about my powers, so they didn’t bat an eyelid. But for the others? To them, it looked like I’d magically pulled them from behind the tree.

I opened the first pizza box, the aroma wafting through the clearing. I took a bite, chewing slowly, deliberately, my eyes locked onto the group. "Mmm..." I moaned, my voice low, mocking, "So good..." I pulled the cheese string with my fingers, watching it stretch before snapping back. "So hot... so fresh..."

Lisa grinned, grabbing a slice for herself. She took a bite, her eyes rolling back in exaggerated ecstasy. "Oh my God," she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I forgot how good real food tasted."

She licked her lips, watching the survivors stare at us, their faces twisted in envy. "You guys should try some mushroom soup." She laughed, the sound sharp, mocking. "I heard it’s delicious."

Angela chuckled, cracking open a cold drink. The hiss of the can cut through the silence, sharp and taunting. She took a long sip, the sound exaggerated, deliberate, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Nothing beats a cold drink after a long day," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Too bad you guys are stuck with lukewarm mushroom water."

I took another bite, chewing slowly, deliberately, my eyes locked onto the group. "You know," I said, my voice low, mocking, "there’s nothing like hot, cheesy pizza to lift your spirits." I grinned, holding up the slice, the cheese stretching obscenely. "But hey, to each their own, right?"

The surroundings fell silent.

Then, the reactions started.

"What the fuck..." one of the men muttered, his eyes wide, disbelieving.

"Where the hell did he get those pizzas from?!" another demanded, his voice rising in frustration, his hands clenching into fists.

"Motherfucker..." the burly man snarled, his face twisting in rage. "He’s tricking us!" His knuckles whitened as he gripped his bowl of mushroom broth, his eyes burning into me. "This bitch—why are we eating these wild mushrooms, and he gets to eat pizza?!"

I took another bite, my smile never fading, my eyes gleaming with amusement. "Jealousy doesn’t suit you, "I murmured, my voice low, mocking, "but starvation might." I grinned, holding up the pizza like a prize. "You should try it sometime—real food, I mean." I shrugged, my tone cold. "Oh, wait, you can’t."

Lisa laughed, taking another slice. "You guys should see your faces," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like kids pressing their noses against a candy store window." She took a bite, chewing slowly, deliberately. "Must suck, huh?"

Angela chuckled, cracking open another drink. "You know," she said, her voice sweet, taunting, "if you asked nicely, maybe we’d share." She paused, her smile twisting. "But let’s be honest—you don’t deserve it."

The survivors watched us, their faces twisted in rage, envy, and desperation. Their hands trembled around their bowls, their knuckles white, their eyes burning into us. Some of them muttered curses, others just stared, silent, seething.

Megan stepped forward, her boots crunching on the dry leaves, her face twisted in a mix of arrogance and frustration. Her eyes flickered between the steaming pizza, the cold drinks, and my smirking face. "Where did this come from?" she demanded, her voice sharp, accusatory, as if she had the right to know.

I leaned back against the tree, chewing another bite of pizza, the cheese stretching obscenely between my fingers. "Do you really wanna know?" My tone was light, amused, but my eyes gleamed with something darker.

Megan nodded, her jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists. "Yes."

I chuckled, low and mocking, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "It’s simple..." I paused, my smile twisting into something cruel, dangerous. "Just be my slave..." My voice dropped to a whisper, smooth, taunting. "And you can get to eat and drink every day." I shrugged, my tone mocking. "What do you say?"

Megan’s face flushed, her eyes burning with rage. "You—" she started, her voice trembling, "tell me where you got this!" Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to grab the pizza—or my throat.

I grinned, taking another slow bite, chewing deliberately. "It’s a one-time offer, Megan." My voice was smooth, dangerous, dripping with amusement. "Take it or leave it."