[Vol. 3] Chapter 6: Delivery Received

Finn arrived in Hell’s Kitchen, a chaotic, filthy neighborhood. The streets were run-down, though there was no shortage of skyscrapers. The roadside walls were covered in messy graffiti and obscene slogans.

He pulled over. The cops around here never bothered doing their jobs, so he didn’t have to worry about getting a ticket.

“Hey! You can’t park here!” a cold voice called from outside the window.

“Hm?” Finn turned his head. A man stood beside the driver’s door, a vicious knife scar across his face. He held an Uzi, its muzzle pressed against the window and aimed at Finn’s head.

Finn sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the scarred man through the glass.

“Hand over all your money and the keys, then get out of the truck!” the man snarled.

“Don’t shoot,” Finn said flatly. “You’ll damage my truck.”

With that, he pushed open the door and stepped out.

“Now that’s more like it!” The scarred man sneered and opened fire at Finn’s head.

“I told you not to shoot!” Finn snapped, raising one hand to block the muzzle.

The metal bullets ricocheted against Finn’s palm. Before the Uzi had even finished emptying its magazine, it burst apart.

“Motherfucker! He’s got powers!” The scarred man’s expression changed from delight to terror in an instant. He let go of the gun and bolted.

Finn grabbed the Uzi and hurled it at the man’s head.

Bang!

The gun smashed his skull like a rotten melon. Red and white matter splattered across the ground, and blood flowed over the filthy pavement, gathering into a small stream.

Finn put the Uzi away, got back in his truck, and settled into the driver’s seat.

Ding-da-dong! His phone chimed. He pulled it out and saw a message from the Interdimensional Stowaway Express.

The Interdimensional Stowaway Express was a famous organization that operated across the Endless Worlds. As long as you were willing to pay, they’d deliver your package anywhere—from the Ninefold Nether River to Paradise, the Buddhist Pure Land, or even the Frozen Deathlands.

The message on his screen read:

“Hi there! You’ve got a package. World Alpha-EIGHT-S-94520256320. Please send us your coordinates. Sender: Zhuge-Tyentse. Courier: Death.”

Finn shared his location with the courier through the Myriad Realms Network.

A thunderclap split the sky. The building beside him exploded, sending dust and rubble flying. A mass of dark, unfathomable mist appeared at the center of the blast.

The wind scattered the mist, revealing the courier called Death—a bona fide reaper. He carried a long black scythe and wore a bloodstained brown robe. Beneath his hood, darkness concealed his face, except for his skeletal jaw.

The moment he appeared, the sky dimmed until it was almost lightless. A flock of black crows swept overhead, cawing sharply.

The only incongruous detail was that he was riding a flying motorcycle, with an enormous delivery box strapped to the back.

Death’s bloodstained robe fluttered in the wind. On the front, it bore the words “Interdimensional Stowaway Express.” On the back was a slogan in pale lettering: “Lucky Eights in Every Load, Riches for All Down the Road!”

“Finn. Your delivery.” Death’s voice was cold and raspy. He leaned on his scythe, looking like he’d come to claim a soul.

Finn felt a chill run down his spine. He climbed out of the truck and walked over to the courier.

Death pulled a Spacetime Crystal Case from his flying motorcycle. Inside the transparent, crystal-blue case sat a tungsten-steel box.

“Why’d they send Death to deliver my package?” Finn asked as he took the case and signed the receipt.

“Business in Hell is slow, so I picked up a side job.” Death stared straight at him. “Besides, when I deliver something cash on delivery, certain people are less likely to skip out on the bill.”

“Fair enough. One thing I’ve never understood, though—why call your company the ‘Stowaway Express’? Couldn’t you pick a name that sounds a little luckier?” Finn tossed the signed receipt back to him.

“This world was created by the Star Cosmos Empire. It belongs to the Star Cosmos Empire. You and I are both stowaways here. Watch yourself,” Death replied in his hoarse voice.

Then he mounted his flying motorcycle and disappeared into the dark clouds.

Finn pondered the warning. It was true that this world belonged to the Star Cosmos Empire, but the Empire had never explicitly forbidden anyone from entering.

More importantly, even if it had, countless Celestial Sojourners could still slip into this world.

With its supernatural powers and extraordinary artifacts, this place was like a block of sweet, unguarded cheese, tempting everyone to take a bite.

Finn checked into a motel. Out on a patch of grass, he opened the Spacetime Crystal Case. He expected to find the nuclear rocket launchers Zhuge-Tyentse had sent him.

Once the case’s spatial restraints were removed, Finn was bitterly disappointed to find that the tungsten-steel box inside had returned to its normal size. It was only about as big as a single bed.

He’d told Zhuge-Tyentse he needed seven or eight hundred nuclear rocket launchers. There was no way a box this small could hold that many.

A note was stuck to the box. Finn picked it up and read:

“Give someone a fish, and you feed them for a day. Teach them to fish, and you feed them for a lifetime.”

He lifted the tungsten-steel lid. There were no nuclear rocket launchers inside—just a machine.

The machine was a rectangular prism, its dark gold and bronze colors interwoven across sharp, clean edges. A gold nameplate on its side simply stated its function:

TACTICAL NUCLEAR WEAPONS FABRICATOR.

Zhuge-Tyentse could never be bothered to write manuals. Finn would have to figure out how the thing worked on his own.

He tapped the machine’s only blue button. A virtual screen sprang up, and the machine powered on without making a sound.

Finn tapped around until he finally figured out how to use the Tactical Nuclear Weapons Fabricator.

In short, it had an opening that could absorb any material—even air. The machine would break whatever it absorbed down into its basic components—atoms, protons, neutrons, electrons, and so on—then recombine them into uranium and plutonium.

These were essential raw materials for nuclear weapons.

It could also assemble cobalt, hydrogen, helium, and various alloys, including steel. Then, working from the atomic level, it could construct the newly created materials directly into nuclear rocket launchers.

On top of that, Zhuge-Tyentse had improved the original launcher’s design. The new models had twice the blast range and fifty percent more range.

The machine also supported custom designs and programming, with powerful DIY capabilities. As long as Finn was willing to make them, he could produce nuclear torpedoes, nuclear bottle rockets, nuclear fireworks—even nuclear firecrackers.