It was a world where the end didn't come with a bang, but with a sickly whisper. The air carried more than oxygen — it carried damnation itself. A silent, invisible virus, lethal to anyone over twenty-four, turned breathing into a deadly gamble. For the young, survival was fragile: a single meeting between infected blood and their own flesh was enough to unleash horror.
The infection wasn't only physical. It invaded the mind, shattering the boundaries of sanity, reshaping personalities and bodies into something unrecognizable. Some resisted. Others… embraced the shadows with a hunger not just for flesh, but for power, vengeance, and the sheer pleasure of destruction.
In this apocalyptic world, every day was a battle not only to survive, but to hold on to one's humanity. The infected, with their grotesque transformations, weren't the only threat. Human nature itself, corroded by despair and the struggle for control, turned allies into enemies and hope into an unattainable luxury.
The virus didn't choose only bodies; it infiltrated dreams, eroded trust, and made every bond a dangerous risk. The line between life and death was as fragile as a breath, and the line between human and monster, thinner still.
Here, every breath may be the last. Every choice carries the weight of a collapsing world. And in the end, the greatest enemy may be what's left within ourselves.
Welcome to the nightmare.