Chapter 81: From Carpenter to Tailor... What a Quickie

Beka had overextended on her last leap, her arms poised for another strike but she was too fast for a traditional attack. He grabbed a broken chair leg, holding it like a javelin, and timed his move perfectly with [ Left Mouse Button] , striking her off balance. Her momentum carried her straight toward the wall of mannequins. Sid vaulted slightly, positioning himself directly behind her, then drew his knife. With a deep breath, he whispered,

"I’m sorry... but you’re too dangerous."

Sid lunged, following the system’s prompt: Heavy Attack [Right Mouse Button] . The knife struck true, piercing through her skull. Beka let out a final, strangled groan before collapsing completely, her monstrous arms twitching once before going still.

Sid staggered back, chest heaving. His hands were shaking from exhaustion, his shirt soaked in sweat. He looked down at her still form, muttering quietly,

"I... I didn’t want to kill you today. I really didn’t. But you... you were too aggressive. There was no other way."

The room was silent except for the faint creaking of the broken shelves. Sid took a deep breath, scanning the battlefield: splintered mannequins, shattered shelves, and the broken remnants of the wheelchair. His Combat Vision slowly faded, leaving only the aftermath in the dim, rotting light of the tailor shop. He wiped his brow, muttering,

"Alright... time to loot what we came for... before I lose my mind."

Sid wiped the sweat from his forehead and limped over to the counter shelf, careful to avoid the splintered debris and shattered mannequins strewn across the floor. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the glowing violet book.

"I’m back... my recipe."

He muttered under his breath, holding it close. Flipping it open, he squinted at the neat handwriting and the faded notes inside.

"Floresca... who is this, the owner of the shop maybe? I thought the crawler wrote this. Maybe she was just an employee. Floresca, you should’ve given Beka a damn raise— she protected your store even in the afterlife. I mean, if you two open a shop again in heaven, at least give her that raise!"

The pages were full of detailed instructions on sewing, mending, and constructing clothes and basic household textiles. Sid ran his fingers over the diagrams of stitching patterns, the layout of pillows, and even notes on assembling mattresses. His eyes widened as he realized the practicality of it all.

"This... this is genius. Anyone trying to survive in this apocalypse would die for notes like these. You could actually tailor every single household item with this! Holy crap."

He glanced down at his own clothes, wrinkled and stiff from three days of wearing them, and sniffed the fabric. A faint stench of old sweat and decay hit him.

"Now, with knowledge to make proper clothes... and I’ve been wearing this same set for, what, three days straight?"

He lifted his collar and sniffed. Immediately, his nose wrinkled.

"Yeah. That’s definitely the smell of the apocalypse. And Evelise? Still walking around in her damn wedding dress. That’s gotta be uncomfortable as hell."

Sid flipped to the last page. The text shimmered faintly, then suddenly lifted off the paper, floating toward his eyes in streaks of violet light. He blinked rapidly, feeling the words, diagrams, and instructions burn themselves into his mind. A tingling sensation swept over his skull, as if knowledge itself was being downloaded directly into his brain. Seconds later, it stopped.

[SYSTEM MESSAGE!]

[The Floresca’s Stitch Perfect recipe has been consumed.]

[You can now create items based on the content of the recipe.]

He staggered back, clutching the book and breathing hard.

"I... I know it now. I can make sheets, a pillow, even a full mattress. Perfectly. Just like that. You’re a dope, Floresca!"

Sid muttered, feeling a thrill run through him. He closed his eyes, imagining the processes, remembering the stitching patterns and the assembly of bedding. His LootSense flickered, casting a faint blue glow over the scattered materials still usable from the shattered tailor shop. Rolls of cotton fabric, bundles of thread, and stray cotton balls all shimmered softly.

"LootSense, you really are dope... ridiculously useful. Even with this place trashed, I can spot all the useful stuff without spending a whole day digging through debris. And Floresca... absolute legend."

He grabbed the materials one by one, stacking them neatly even amid the chaos of broken mannequins and toppled shelves.

The shop might have been a mess after his fight with Beka, but for him, it was now a treasure trove. He even found materials that weren’t part of any recipe he planned to craft.

"We’re not wasting anything here. Might as well grab whatever we can—if I’m here, I’m taking it all!"

But just as he finished, a notification rang out:

[SYSTEM NOTICE!]

[Your bag has exceeded its maximum capacity. You cannot put anything more.]

"Argh, right! My bag’s weightless, but it still has a limit... I better offload the unnecessary stuff back at the cabin. Can’t believe I forgot—lazy me strikes again."

With a deep breath, he straightened up and looked at the book in his hands.

"Alright... let’s see if I can finally get Evelise a proper bed. No more half-broken sheets or squishy pillows. Time to put this apocalypse knowledge to work." He glanced back at the scattered remains of Beka’s wheelchair and the ruined mannequins, shaking his head. "Man, what a day... but at least it’s finally useful chaos."

He stepped carefully toward the door, carrying the materials he had gathered, ready to start Task 4: Comfort Evelise’s Room. Sunlight streamed through the broken windows, reminding him that time was running out. He needed to get home before dark.

But then he froze. The zombies he had passed earlier were now shuffling toward the tailor shop, drawn by the noise of the fight. They wore torn jeans, ripped denim jackets, old overalls, and one even had a cracked leather coat that still tried to look stylish.

What made him stop wasn’t fear, it was the hum of his [Blueprint Vision Skill]. The tailor recipes were still fresh in his head, and suddenly, the zombies didn’t look like monsters anymore. They looked like walking fabric stores.

The one in jeans:

[Can dismantle: You’ll get a bundle of Denim Strips]

The one in leather:

[Can dismantle: You’ll get a bundle of Leather Strips]