Before I went to the meeting place, I decided it would be wiser to first look for an apartment. Having my own space meant I could safely organize and store my things from my previous house without worrying about anyone snooping.
The search didn't take long. After checking a few cramped units and noisy neighborhoods, I finally found a modest apartment tucked away on a quiet street. The building was old but sturdy, with thick concrete walls that muffled the outside noise. The landlord, a middle-aged man with a permanent frown, didn't bother asking too many questions as long as I paid in full. I signed the papers, moved in my belongings, and arranged them neatly.
Once everything was in place, I sat down on the couch. My body rested, but my mind wandered elsewhere. Without realizing it, I began replaying the events of the apocalypse in my head.
I closed my eyes. Memories—both bitter and vivid—rose to the surface.
On the first day of the apocalypse, the world was plunged into chaos in the strangest way imaginable. It didn't begin with screaming or explosions—it began with silence. People suddenly fell asleep, as if an invisible hand had snuffed out their consciousness. For hours, the world seemed… still. But when they woke up, everything changed.
Seventy percent of the population had turned into zombies. Their skin was pale and clammy, their eyes clouded with hunger and madness. The remaining thirty percent were "lucky" enough to stay human—if you could call it luck—but they were not the same. Many discovered strange abilities: powers to manipulate the elements, enhance their bodies, or warp the world around them.
And it wasn't only humans that changed. Animals mutated into terrifying versions of themselves—cats grew saber-like fangs, birds had talons that could pierce metal, and insects swarmed in poisonous clouds. Even plants twisted into unnatural shapes, sprouting thorns longer than knives and vines that could strangle prey.
On that first day, the zombies were slow, their movements jerky and clumsy. You could kill them with a simple blow to the head. But survival was never meant to stay easy. Within a week, the monsters evolved. They became stronger, faster, and more intelligent. It was then that the "level system" emerged—a grim reminder that this world had become a twisted game.
Level 1 zombies were the weakest, but each level up made them more dangerous. Level 10 monsters were rare but terrifying—towering behemoths capable of wiping out entire survivor camps in minutes.
But the zombies weren't the only nightmare we faced.
During the first week, an unbearable heatwave swept across the entire planet. The sun seemed to burn closer than ever before. Stepping outside for even a few minutes could melt the soles of your shoes. Those foolish enough to touch the ground with bare skin found themselves burned raw, the flesh searing away like butter on a hot pan. Rivers dried up, crops withered, and the air shimmered with heat so intense it warped vision.
This inferno lasted for three long weeks.
Because of the intense heat, polar ice caps melted entirely, raising sea levels beyond imagination. Cities near coastlines drowned. The great flood swallowed roads, buildings, and entire communities. And with the flood came a terror from the depths—a boss-type monster known as the Giant Snake King.
It was a level 9 monster, its scales glistening like wet steel, its eyes glowing a deep crimson. It could coil around skyscrapers and crush them into rubble. For four weeks, it terrorized survivors, dragging entire boats into the deep and swallowing people whole.
When the waters finally receded, we barely had time to breathe before the world was thrown into yet another nightmare.
Winter came—only it wasn't a gentle snowfall. It was a suffocating, frozen prison that covered the entire world in ice. The wind howled like a thousand screaming voices, and snow piled so high that entire houses disappeared beneath it. In this frozen hell, new predators emerged.
The Mutated Snow Wolf King, a level 8 monster, prowled through blizzards with fur as white as bone and fangs that dripped with frost. Mutated polar bears, faster and deadlier than any natural predator, crushed survivors with single swipes of their massive paws.
This winter lasted for two years. Two years of endless white, where frostbite claimed more lives than monsters.
When the ice finally melted and the temperature returned to something resembling normal, people thought the worst was over. They were wrong. That was when other intelligent monsters began to appear—creatures like goblins, orcs, and trolls, each with their own societies and weapons. The apocalypse had shifted from survival against the elements to a war against thinking enemies.
The memory left me silent for a while, my hands resting limply on my lap. Even now, my chest tightened at the thought of going through all that again. But this time… this time, I had the chance to prepare.
Shaking off the heavy thoughts, I grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the shower. Warm water slid over my skin, washing away the sweat and dust from moving earlier. The steam curled in the air, briefly fogging my mind and offering a moment of peace.
After I was clean, I dried off, dressed, and took one last look at the apartment to make sure everything was in order. With a deep breath, I left, locking the door behind me, and headed toward our meeting place.
This time, I wasn't just another survivor walking toward an uncertain fate. I was someone with knowledge, power, and a plan.