Both of them walked toward the towering apartment building in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly in the still air. The entire street felt hollow, too quiet, too empty. As they had observed earlier, there wasn't a single undead roaming around.
"This is… really strange," Chris muttered under his breath, his eyes darting left and right. The emptiness was more terrifying than the presence of enemies.
Raven didn't reply. He only gave a slight nod, his cold gaze scanning the surroundings like a hawk. The stillness wasn't comforting; it was unnerving. It felt like the city itself was holding its breath.
Where did they all go? The question gnawed at Chris's mind, making his chest tighten. The undead had flooded the streets not too long ago, and now… nothing. Only silence.
"Just where could they have gone?" His voice cracked slightly as he spoke louder this time, the uncertainty in his tone betraying his growing fear.
As they passed through a narrow alley, their boots crushed shattered glass and crumpled debris scattered everywhere. The stench of rotting flesh clung to the air like an invisible parasite, creeping into their lungs with every breath.
There were bodies. Dozens of them. Torn apart like ragged dolls, limbs scattered, entrails smeared across cracked concrete walls. Every corpse bore marks of something feral, teeth gouges, claw tears, proof that the undead had feasted here.
Chris swallowed hard.
'It's really hard to tell if anyone is even alive in this place.'
His heart sank lower with each step. The sheer brutality before him left little hope for survivors. The more they walked, the more it felt like they were trudging through a graveyard.
After a few grueling minutes, the two finally reached the tallest apartment building in sight. Its exterior was charred black in some places, as if kissed by flames, while shattered windows gaped like empty eye sockets staring into nothingness.
Pushing the rusted door open, they stepped inside. The metallic creak reverberated eerily in the hollow lobby. Inside, the devastation only grew worse. Furniture was overturned, walls stained with dried blood, the lingering smell of death thick and suffocating.
Chris gagged, covering his mouth as his eyes darted to the floor. More bodies... bloated, dismembered, and left to rot. The sight punched his gut like a sledgehammer, bile rising in his throat.
"God…" He almost puked right there.
"Get used to it," Raven said coldly without even looking at him. His tone was flat, detached like someone who had seen this too many times before. "This is what our world has turned into."
Chris squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the images away, but they were burned into his mind. "I… I know, but… how could it all happen so fast? It hasn't even been a day. Not even a damn day, and this-" His voice cracked, his words trembling with disbelief.
Raven's steps didn't falter. He headed deeper into the building, his expression unchanging. "Accept it. This is our world now. Only the strong will live here."
There was no hint of sympathy in his tone, just cold truth that sliced deeper than any blade.
"You… seem calm about all this, man. I can't be like that. I'm-" Chris struggled to find the words, his thoughts a mess. "I'm freaking out inside."
"That is not something to worry about. People are different," Raven replied casually, moving toward the bathroom. "The kind of life you lived and what countless others lived before today... it's different. You'll understand eventually."
Chris let out a dry laugh that didn't sound like humor at all. "You talk like some old man giving life advice, dude. Seriously, what kind of life did you even have to sound like this? We're probably the same age."
Raven didn't answer. Instead, he entered inside the bathroom and began struggling to pull his blood-soaked shirt off, wincing slightly at the pain that flared from his wounded side.
"Let me," Chris said softly, stepping forward. He gently peeled the fabric away, careful not to tear the clotting wound further.
As the shirt came off, warm blood trickled freely, dripping onto the white-tiled floor in dark, ugly streaks.
Chris froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his gaze fell on Raven's bare torso.
It wasn't the wound that stunned him, it was everything else. His entire body was a canvas of scars. Bruises old and new marred his skin. Jagged lines from blades, faint burns that had long since healed but still told their story. And the worst, the seared flesh across his back, a grotesque reminder of something unspeakable.
Chris's voice trembled when he finally spoke. "…What kind of life did you even have?"
This time, the question wasn't driven by curiosity. It was disbelief. Shock. Pity, even. Chris had thought his own life was unfair, miserable. But now… now he realized he had lived in the lap of comfort compared to this.
Raven said nothing. He didn't even look at Chris. He simply turned toward the jet spray, letting the cold water splash over the wound, crimson streaks spiraling down the drain.
Chris stood there, frozen, staring at a reality he couldn't comprehend. His mind whispered,
'And here I thought my life was bad.'
He wanted to ask again. Wanted to know what kind of hell could leave someone looking like this. But something in Raven's silence told him... don't. That door wasn't meant to be opened.
'I'll get him some clothes,' Chris thought finally, forcing his legs to move. One of the dead men in the corner seemed to be about Raven's size. The clothes might fit.
Behind him, Raven continued rinsing off the blood. The water stung like fire against the wound, a sharp pain radiating through his ribs. He gritted his teeth, a low hiss escaping his lips.
'Just cleaning it won't be enough. I need stitches.'
He reached out, touching the ragged flesh lightly... and that's when it happened. The memories surged.
For twelve years, those cursed moments had haunted him, shackling his soul. He could never forget. Not the day it happened. Not the screams that followed. Not the flames that devoured everything he loved.
They never let him live. They never let him die. They clung to him like chains of fire, branding him with guilt that never faded.
The jet spray slipped from his grasp, clattering against the tiles as dizziness swept over him. The weight of exhaustion crushed his body. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the wet floor.
Darkness crept in, swallowing the grimy bathroom walls. Then, like a cruel trick, colors returned... not to the present, but to a memory.
Children laughing. The smell of grass under a bright sun. His heart fluttered as he saw them... smiling faces, carefree and pure. And there, among them, was a boy who looked just like him, grinning ear to ear. That smile… he hadn't seen it in years. Because that was him. Before his world shattered.
But the scene warped. Green turned to red. Joy turned to horror. Flames roared to life, painting the ground in a sea of fire. Screams piercing, heart-wrenching screams echoed in his skull as tiny bodies writhed in agony.
He tried to run. To save them. He tried then, and he tried now. But his legs never moved. They never did.
Helpless, he watched as everything turned to ash.
Tears slid silently from his cold eyes, burning hotter than the flames in his memory. They carved paths down his cheeks as the boy with the bright smile faded into smoke.
That day, only one survived. One cursed soul, branded by fire and fate. Nobody ever learned the truth, who set the flames, why it happened, how so many children died.
That secret lived with one person. The leech that refused to die.
Raven.
***
Thanks for reading.
Thanks you, Nzumaki for the golden ticket. And congratulations, we got 10k views, DANG.