A blinding flash—then darkness.
When Lucas Kane's vision cleared, his breath caught in his throat.
"What the hell...?"
He stood in the middle of an eight-lane highway, skyscrapers looming like tombstones on either side. Cars lay overturned, their metal frames twisted into grotesque shapes. The air reeked of rust, gasoline, and something far worse—blood.
But the true horror stood motionless around him.
Hundreds of them.
Pale, lifeless faces. Milky eyes staring into nothing. Purple veins bulging beneath rotting skin.
The Infected.
They didn't move. Didn't attack. Just stood there, frozen, their ragged breaths the only sign they weren't statues.
Lucas's pulse hammered. Why aren't they attacking?
He didn't dare move. One wrong step, and this nightmare would come alive.
Then—a voice, cold and mechanical, echoed in his skull.
[Welcome to the Endgame.]
A holographic map flickered before him. But this wasn't Earth.
Continents sprawled endlessly, oceans reduced to mere lakes.
[This is Aquaria. Surface area: 1,000x Earth. Cities: 10,000x Earth's.]
[Civilization parallels yours—until the Collapse.]
[Now, it belongs to the Infected and the Mutated.]
[Survive. Or die.]
The voice continued, listing rules like a twisted tutorial:
Kill to grow stronger. Strange energy lurked in this world. Weapons mattered, but power came from within.Water = death. Unless purified.Not all mutations are lethal. Some could heal. Or enhance.Loot crates hide treasures. Find them.Your storage ring is life. Upgrade it. Protect it. Others will kill for it.Harvest skills save time. Learn them.Night = death. Find shelter.The Infected are weak… for now. Every 30 days, they evolve.
[Game starts in 60 seconds.]
[Adjusting gravity…]
[Rebooting city power…]
[Enabling global trade…]
[Initializing chat networks…]
Lucas's blood ran cold. One minute. That's all he had before hell broke loose.
He needed shelter. Now.
His eyes darted to a nearby diner. No blood on the door. Safe?
[Warning: 27 Infected inside. Enter = buffet.]
"Shit."
A glance at the global chat confirmed his fear—no one else saw these warnings.
Panicked messages flooded in:
"Where are we?!"
"I'm trapped in a closet—are there Infected outside?!"
"Roof's safe, but I'm baking alive!"
Lucas tuned it out. Next option: a convenience store.
[6 Infected inside. Possible water stash. Fight if you're armed.]
No. He wasn't suicidal.
Then—a realtor's office.
[Clear. Contains Level-1 Supply Crate.]
Bingo.
Distance: 30 meters. Time left: 46 seconds.
He could make it.
But first…
Lucas's gaze locked onto a riot-gear-clad Infected. That armor could be useful.
[Static Infected. Cannot move or be harmed. 46s remaining.]
Time to move.