"Good game, guys! We'll get our MMR back next time."
"We said that the last time, too! Still, well played! See you tomorrow."
"Good game."
It was around 10:30 p.m. when the trio finally logged off and called it a night. Tomorrow was a holiday—no classes—yet the idea of an uninterrupted morning sleep was too precious for any college student to waste.
Before signing off, Lucian asked if they were free tomorrow to try the new eatery that had just opened inside the city. Ayesha and Ivan agreed instantly; Lucian rarely initiated hangouts, so when he did, they made sure not to miss it. Lucian said he would treat them, though both initially tried to decline politely. When he ended the discussion with a grin, they let him have his way.
Ivan rented a dorm only ten minutes away, while Ayesha's was farther—about a thirty-minute walk from Lucian's building. This proximity allowed them to meet almost daily, especially since the three owned motorcycles.
As the call ended and the monitor dimmed, silence filled Lucian's small room in Casa Luna Residencias.
He turned off his PC and looked out the window. The moon caught his eye again—brighter tonight, almost metallic. It seemed to flicker momentarily, like a light bulb on the verge of bursting. An uneasy feeling crept into his chest, but he dismissed it; the moon looked red sometimes, blue, even gold. Nothing new. Right?
Lucian stretched atop his chair, readying for bed, when his gaze fell on the two photo frames on his shelf.
The first showed him with his parents: his father, a tall man in a dark suit, stood proudly beside a gentle-faced woman in a flowery red dress. Between them was a younger Lucian, flashing a bright smile with both arms wrapped around them.
They had died a year ago in a car crash. Since then, a piece of him had never fully woken up—a part of him died that day.
The second frame held a more recent memory—Ayesha and Ivan with him on the walls of Intramuros.
In a silky white dress, Ayesha glowed under the afternoon light—five-foot-six, confident, beautiful, hands pressed to her cheeks as she laughed between them.
Ivan, slightly chubby but solidly built at five-nine, wore a simple black polo shirt and that trademark grin that could make anyone laugh.
Lucian, a bit shorter than Ivan, stood on the left in his black polo, his smile faint but genuine.
That photo was taken during Ayesha's birthday a few months back, when she turned twenty-one. He and Ivan had surprised her with cake and gifts. She cried that day — from happiness.
Lucian chuckled softly at the memory.
They weren't just friends. They filled the silence his parents left behind—loud, chaotic, and irreplaceable.
With a content sigh, he turned off the light, lay on his bed, and let sleep slowly claim him—mind drifting to tomorrow's plans and the smell of grilled food he'd promised to treat them to.
***
June 12, 2028 – 12:00 a.m.
Kreeeeek… kreeeek…
A faint sound rippled through the still air, almost like metal scraping on stone. Those awake might have heard it—just before the world drowned in Light.
Without warning, a blinding brilliance burst from the skies.
Every window, every street, every inch of earth was swallowed by a silver-white glow.
It pierced through eyelids, curtains, and even walls until sight became meaningless. Even the deepest parts of the ground were not spared.
Lucian jolted awake, heart pounding. The brilliance burned through the darkness of his room; he couldn't open his eyes.
"Stop that!" he shouted instinctively, grabbing his pillow to block the glare—but it was useless. The light shone straight through the fabric as if it didn't exist.
After what felt like minutes, the brightness finally faded.
Silence followed—a silence so heavy it made his ears ring.
Lucian opened his eyes. Darkness.
He reached for his desk lamp. Nothing.
He pressed the light switch. Nothing.
No hum from the air-con, no buzz from the fridge—only the moon's faint glow.
He moved to the window—and froze.
The city lights outside Intramuros, the view from his window that never truly slept, was pitch-black. No streetlights. No car headlights. No distant neon shimmer from the main road.
Only the impossibly bright moon hung above, bathing the centuries-old walls and rooftops in a ghostly sheen.
The air felt different—thicker, colder. Every sound seemed to vanish into it, leaving behind a hollow hum that wasn't quite silence. Even the ticking of his clock had stopped.
The moonlight spilled across the floorboards like liquid silver, sharp and cold to the eye, casting long, trembling shadows against the walls. Lucian could almost feel its smooth yet heavy texture as though the world was holding its breath.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Lucian grabbed his phone—no signal.
Wi-Fi, dead.
He tried calling Ayesha and Ivan anyway. Nothing. The network bar remained empty.
A nervous chill ran down his spine. He left his room to check on his neighbors and see what was happening; he needed information.
Casa Luna Residencias was a five-story dormitory with four units per floor. Lucian's was on the third. The hallway was dim, illuminated only by the moonlight sneaking through the stairwell window. The air was cold, unnaturally still—so he could hear his heartbeat echo faintly off the old concrete walls.
He knocked on the nearest door. No answer.
He tried the other two doors on the same floor—same result.
Maybe everyone had gone home for the holiday. Classes wouldn't resume until Wednesday anyway, after the Intramuros Foundation event on Tuesday.
He was about to turn back when a low, guttural noise came from the door across the hall.
Grrrraaaah…
The sound was wet, distorted—human, but not quite.
Lucian's pulse quickened. "Hey… are you okay in there?" he called out, voice trembling slightly.
No response. Only the shuffling of feet—uneven, dragging.
A foreboding chill crawled up his spine.
"Hey! Open the door! Is everything okay?"
The gnarly sounds didn't stop, even as he kept knocking. It was as if whoever—or whatever—was inside couldn't hear him at all.
He stepped back, mind racing. No signal. No electricity. That blinding Light that had swallowed the world a few minutes ago… something definitely feels wrong.
As Lucian was deep in his thoughts, the sounds still coming from the door in front of him, a figure stepped into view from the far end of the corridor near the elevator.
Its movements were jerky. Its skin hung in patches, gray and torn. Its eyes are empty.
It turned toward Lucian.
And then it started to walk.
Slowly.
Hungrily.
Lucian froze. The creature's dead eyes locked onto his.
The word formed in his throat before he could stop it.
A zombie.