Sickly Cannon Fodder: Spoiled by the Powerful Apocalypse Bosses-Chapter 93

The long blade gleamed with a cold, lethal sheen.

The moment it caught the light, the people outside recoiled instinctively, a chill running down their spines. Cold sweat broke out across their backs as they stumbled a step away from the door.

None of them had expected Leonard to pull out a weapon—let alone one like that.

It was long. Heavy. Sharp enough that one glance made their skin prickle. If it came down on someone... the thought alone was enough to make their stomachs twist.

What kind of person kept a weapon like that at home?

They were just ordinary residents—at most, the sharpest thing in their kitchens was a cleaver. They had never faced anything like this.

Even Mrs. Warren was shaken.

"Y-you... what are you trying to do?!" Her voice tightened, betraying her fear.

At the end of the day, she had only intended to seize supplies. She wasn’t prepared—mentally or otherwise—to deal with bloodshed.

The sudden sight of Suzy and Leonard standing there, armed, sent a ripple of unease through her.

"You’re not thinking of killing someone, are you? Becoming murderers?!" she demanded, her finger trembling as she pointed at them.

Leonard’s tone was calm, almost indifferent. "If you insist on crossing the line... I wouldn’t mind becoming one."

Mrs. Warren sucked in a sharp breath. "Have you lost your mind?! Aren’t you afraid of going to prison?!"

Leonard let out a low, chilling laugh. "Prison? Look around. The world outside is already falling apart. You dare come knocking to rob people—and you’re not afraid. So why should I be?"

Suzy smiled faintly. "Exactly. If you’re not afraid... why should we be?"

Her pale face, paired with that quiet smile, felt eerily out of place—like something fragile and unhinged all at once.

The two sides fell into a tense standoff.

Mrs. Warren’s second son, Bill, quietly took a step back, doubt creeping into his thoughts.

There was something... off about the people in 501.

A weapon like that, just sitting in their home... He tightened his grip on the steel pipe in his hand.

He had some training—enough to handle himself in a fight—but he couldn’t guarantee he could subdue them if things truly spiraled out of control.

Sensing hesitation, Julia felt a surge of frustration.

She couldn’t let this falter.

"Don’t hold back!" she urged, her voice sharp with agitation. "They won’t actually dare to swing that blade—they’re just trying to scare us! If we leave now, they win! And what happens when everyone else in the building starts copying them?"

Mrs. Warren and Bill exchanged a glance.

She had a point.

If they couldn’t deal with 501, their authority in the building would crumble. And once that happened, no one else would hand over supplies either.

Mrs. Warren found herself trapped—caught between retreat and escalation.

Suzy noticed the hesitation outside and spoke again, her voice turning colder.

"I’ll warn you one last time. If you dare to keep pushing this... don’t blame me for what happens next."

Then... She raised her hand.

A gun appeared in her grip.

Under the beam of a phone flashlight, the black metal glinted with an eerie, deadly sheen.

"A gun—? A gun?! How do you have a gun?!" one of the women cried out in shock.

Someone quickly scoffed, trying to steady the group. "It’s probably just a toy! How could anyone in this country have a real gun?"

"Trying to scare us with a fake? Who do you think you’re fooling?"

"Mrs. Warren... maybe we should try another unit," someone muttered, already losing their nerve.

This household was clearly not normal.

Pulling out a blade without hesitation... and now a gun?

Even if it was fake, getting shot at close range would still hurt.

Worse, they were outside, exposed—while the other side stayed inside, shielded. No matter how they looked at it, they were at a disadvantage.

Mrs. Warren forced herself to calm down. Her eyes flickered as she exchanged another glance with Bill.

In the end, she chose to press forward.

This was about authority.

If they failed here, they could forget about collecting supplies from the rest of the building.

To become a leader, she had to show strength.

And she was betting that Suzy and Leonard wouldn’t actually dare to follow through.

Especially Suzy.

She looked so delicate, so pale and slight... hardly like someone capable of harming another person.

"Son—do it," Mrs. Warren ordered.

Bill had already made up his mind. He swung the steel pipe in his hand and brought it crashing down against Suzy’s door.

Bang!

The impact rang out sharply. The metal chain rattled under the force, the locked section straining, beginning to loosen.

He raised the pipe again, ready to press the attack—to break through in one decisive push.

From inside, a cold, sinister voice drifted out:

"Since you’ve made your move... don’t blame us for what happens next."

Before anyone could react, a long blade shot out through the narrow gap in the door.

Fast. Precise.

Bill couldn’t dodge in time.

The edge sliced clean across his arm.

"Fuck! You really dare to cut?!" he roared in pain.

Blood poured from the wound, soaking his sleeve in seconds.

The sudden turn of events stunned everyone present.

They... actually dared to strike?

Mrs. Warren lunged forward, clutching her son, her voice breaking into a wail. "My son! My son! Are you alright?!"

Then she whipped around, eyes blazing with fury.

"You animals! How dare you hurt my son! I’m calling the police—right now! Just you wait, you’ll all be arrested!"

"Oh? Now you remember the police?" Suzy’s voice carried a faint, mocking edge. "Go ahead—call them."

Order was already collapsing. The police had far bigger crises to deal with—chaos was breaking out everywhere. This was barely a scratch in comparison.

"While you’re at it," Suzy added coolly, "have them deal with your attempted robbery too."

"You—you little bitch!" Mrs. Warren’s whole body trembled with rage. If looks could kill, Suzy would have been dead already.

All they had to do was cooperate, hand over their supplies—why did she have to make things this ugly?

"Got the pliers!" a man’s breathless voice cut in.

Mrs. Warren’s eyes lit up instantly. "Perfect timing! Cut that chain—now! We’ll teach this girl a lesson today!"

She refused to believe that with so many of them, they couldn’t handle just two people.

The man, still unaware of what had just happened, stepped forward obediently with the pliers, moving toward the chain.

From behind the door, Suzy’s voice came again, calm but edged with warning:

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

The man hesitated.

"Cut it! Don’t listen to her!" Mrs. Warren snapped.

Gritting his teeth, the man clamped the pliers onto the chain and pressed down hard.

The next second, a piercing scream tore through the stairwell.

The pliers clattered to the ground.

The man staggered back, clutching his eyes, shrieking in agony. "My eyes! My eyes! It burns—God, it burns! My eyes—!"

The others recoiled in shock. "What happened?!"

They didn’t even have time to process it.

A stream of red liquid burst from the "gun," spraying outward in sharp jets, splattering across faces and eyes.

Within seconds, more people cried out as the burning sensation hit them—sharp, searing pain spreading across their skin.

Mrs. Warren wasn’t fast enough.

The spray hit her full in the face.

"Ahhh! What is this?! What did you spray on me?!"

The stairwell erupted into chaos—screams echoing off the walls.

Realizing things had spiraled out of control, Julia turned to flee.

Suzy shifted her aim instantly and unleashed another barrage straight at her.

"AH—! My face! My face!"