The street sign read "Nagazora City, 2nd Street," the faded letters barely visible beneath a layer of grime. Adrian stood there, catching his breath, his lungs burning, his legs aching from the fall and the frantic escape. He clutched his head, trying to make sense of the chaos that had erupted around him.
"This can't be happening," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "This has to be a dream. A really bad dream."
He pinched himself, hard, wincing at the sting. But the ruined city remained, a grim tableau of broken buildings and silent streets. There was no waking up. No escape.
He looked around, desperately searching for some sign that this was all a joke, a prank, anything to shatter this nightmare. Maybe he was still asleep, back in his dorm room, his alarm about to blare, signaling the start of another boring Tuesday. Just yesterday, he was cramming for his Thermodynamics exam, fueled by instant ramen and lukewarm coffee. He'd been so stressed about failing, about disappointing his parents, even though they weren't around anymore to see it. Now, a failed exam seemed like a luxury compared to this… this hell.
His mind, still reeling from the shock, started to make connections. Nagazora City… the name echoed in his memory. Where had he heard that before?
Then it hit him.
Honkai Impact 3rd.
Nagazora City was where Kiana and Mei had lived, where the story had begun. But that was just a coincidence, right? There were probably lots of cities named Nagazora. It was a common enough name.
He squinted at the sky, a bruised purple that seemed to mock the very idea of a normal day. "Even in Honkai Impact 3rd, the sky wasn't this color," he thought, desperately trying to find holes in this twisted reality. "It was blue, sometimes cloudy, but never… this."
He remembered the battles, the Valkyries, the Honkai beasts… the epic clashes against the Herrschers. It all seemed so real, so vivid in his mind, as if he had actually been there, fighting alongside Kiana and her friends.
"Maybe I'm just having a really intense hallucination," he told himself, trying to cling to some semblance of sanity. "Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Concussion, maybe? Or… or some kind of weird fever dream? But those things... they felt so real."
He remembered reading the manga, poring over the lore, immersing himself in the world of Honkai Impact 3rd. He knew the story inside and out, the characters, the weapons, the history of the Honkai. "But that's just a game," he argued with himself. "A story. It's not real. The Honkai are just a fictional threat, a plot device to drive the narrative. They can't actually exist... can they?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, trying to dispel the unsettling thoughts swirling in his mind. "It can't be. I'm just a college student! I'm not some chosen one! I'm not Kiana Kaslana! I'm just… Adrian."
His stomach growled, a jarring reminder of his immediate needs. Dream or not, hallucination or not, he was hungry. And thirsty. And he needed to find some place to hide before nightfall. He couldn't afford to stand around in the middle of the street, lost in his thoughts. He needed to be rational, to assess the situation, to find a way to survive. That's what anyone in his situation would do, right? Analyze the problem, identify the resources, and develop a solution.
He scanned the street, his eyes darting from building to building, searching for any sign of food or water. He spotted a convenience store across the street, its windows boarded up with plywood. The wood was old and weathered, some of the boards cracked and splintered, as if something had tried to break through. Graffiti was scrawled across the plywood in faded colors, obscuring the original advertisements.
"Okay, maybe there's something in there," he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. "But there could also be… them."
He cautiously approached the store, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. He gripped the baseball bat tightly, the worn leather of the handle strangely comforting. As he got closer, he could see that the glass in the front door had been shattered, the jagged edges still clinging precariously to the frame.
As he got closer, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shattered window of a nearby building.
He paused, his eyes widening in surprise. He barely recognized himself. His black hair was disheveled and matted with dirt, but it was something else that caught his attention. A small tuff of white hair, stark against the darkness, stood out on his forehead. "What the…?" he muttered, reaching up to touch it. He'd never had white hair before.
He also noticed that his skin seemed paler, almost translucent. He looked gaunt and tired, like he hadn't slept in days. Which, technically, he hadn't. He was wearing the same black hoodie and cargo pants he'd been wearing when he went to bed, but they were now ripped and stained with dirt and grime. His headphones were still around his neck, and his phone was tucked into his pocket, its screen cracked but still functional.
He shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to get distracted by his appearance. He needed to survive.
He peeked through a crack in the boarded-up windows, his breath catching in his throat.
Inside, he saw a figure shuffling around, its movements slow and clumsy. A zombie. Its clothes were torn and stained, its skin a sickly grey, its eyes vacant and bloodshot.
His heart lurched, a wave of nausea washing over him. It was just like before, when he first woke up in that ruined building. The same grotesque figure, the same vacant eyes, the same hunger. He remembered the surge of adrenaline, the desperate fight for survival, the feeling of the bat connecting with bone and flesh. It had all been instinct, a primal urge to live. But now, standing here, staring at this new zombie, the fear was back, stronger than ever.
He knew he needed supplies, but he was terrified of confronting the zombie. He wasn't a fighter. He was just a normal college student, suddenly thrust into a nightmare he couldn't comprehend.
He glanced down at the bat in his hand. It was a weapon, a means of defense. Though he'd fought with people before, some in self-defense. It was never to the point of a life or death situation, could he really pull this off?
He debated his options, his mind racing. Try to sneak in and grab what he needed, hoping the zombie wouldn't notice him? Try to distract the zombie and make a run for it, sacrificing any chance of getting supplies? Or stand his ground and fight, risking his life for a bottle of water and a can of beans?
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He couldn't keep running away. He needed to face this, or he'd never survive.
He pushed open the boarded-up door, the wood splintering with a loud crack that echoed through the silent street, sending a shiver down his spine. The air inside was thick with the stench of decay, a cloying mix of rot and stale chemicals that made his stomach churn.
The zombie turned, its head snapping towards him with a sickening crack, its eyes locking onto his with a hunger that chilled him to the bone. It was even more grotesque up close. Its skin was a mottled grey-green, stretched taut over its skull, and its clothes were ripped and stained with dark, crusty blood. A chunk of flesh was missing from its neck, revealing a glimpse of bone and sinew.
The convenience store itself was a scene of utter chaos. Shelves had been overturned, their contents scattered across the floor: cans of food, packages of chips, bottles of soda, all coated in a layer of dust and grime. A thick pool of blood stained the floor near the counter, and a trail of bloody footprints led towards the back of the store. The air was heavy with the buzzing of flies.
Adrian hesitated for a moment, his fear threatening to overwhelm him. He gripped the bat tighter, his knuckles turning white. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. He could hear the zombie shuffling towards him, its ragged breathing a wet, gurgling sound.
He knew he should run, that he should turn and flee back into the street. But he couldn't. He needed the supplies. He needed to survive.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled his resolve. He raised the bat, his arm trembling, and stepped inside, ready to face whatever horrors awaited him in the darkness.