The world ended in thirteen minutes.
At first, it was just the sky.
At 7:42 AM, the clouds split open and a red haze poured across the city like a spilled wound. It shimmered in the air, thicker than fog, brighter than smoke. People stopped mid-step, their heads snapping upward.
Then came the voices.
Whispers that weren't carried by air but clawed straight into skulls. Men and women dropped to their knees, clutching at their ears, screaming like children.
Zeke Blade stood frozen at the doorway of his run-down apartment, backpack half-zipped, shirt hanging loose. His neighbor collapsed in front of him, convulsing violently.
The man twitched, bones snapping like brittle twigs. His chest heaved once, twice, then stopped.
And then—he rose.
His eyes were milk-white. His jaw sagged. Skin sagged loose, veins crawling black under the surface.
A corpse. Standing.
The first of many.
All around, people fell, twisted, and then dragged themselves back up again. The screams of the living blurred into the gnashing of teeth.
Zeke ran.
Instinct, nothing more. His sneakers pounded against the pavement, dodging through streets where friends and strangers alike were being torn apart. Every corner, more of them. Every alley, blocked by pale arms and snapping jaws.
He forced himself down a side street, lungs burning, legs aching.
A convenience store came into view, its door already half-smashed. He ducked inside.
The inside wasn't safe.
Shelves were overturned, blood smeared across the tiles. A girl stood in the wreckage, swinging a metal pipe into a corpse's skull with reckless force. Bone splintered, and the body dropped.
"Hell of a morning, huh?" she said, breathless but grinning.
Her eyes were sharp green, hair platinum blonde with streaks of crimson at the tips. Her jacket was torn, her boots spattered with blood. She looked more alive than anyone Zeke had ever seen.
Haley Gore.
Zeke slammed the door shut behind him, dragging a broken shelf in front of it. The glass trembled under fists and claws hammering from the outside.
That's when it hit.
Not sound. Not sight.
A voice inside his head. Cold. Absolute.
System initializing…
Candidate confirmed: Zeke Blade.
Apocalypse Sovereign System online.
His vision burned white. Numbers and symbols flared before his eyes.
Level: 1
HP: 100 | Strength: 10 | Agility: 10 | Vitality: 10 | Intelligence: 10 | Dominance: 10
Apocalypse Points: 0
Skill unlocked: Devour.
Shop available.
Zeke staggered, clutching his head. He whispered without thinking: "…Zeke Blade…"
Haley's ears perked up. She smirked, wiping her pipe against her jacket.
"Blade, huh? That's badass. I'm calling you that."
He blinked at her, startled. "That's my—"
"Too late," she cut in, still grinning. "Blade it is."
The pounding on the glass grew louder. Cracks spiderwebbed across the door.
Zeke's vision pulsed again. The "Shop" opened before him like some digital catalog:
Loaf of bread – 1 point
Bottle of clean water – 1 point
Kitchen knife – 2 points
9mm pistol (with one magazine) – 10 points
But he had nothing. No points. No weapon.
Haley rested the pipe across her shoulder, green eyes locked on him.
"Well, Blade," she said, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. "We fight, or we die. Pick one."
Zeke's fists clenched. He didn't have a choice.
Another message flashed:
Devour – Absorb the cores of the dead to gain strength.
The glass shattered.
And Zeke Blade stepped forward, jaw tight, as the end of the world began.