Prologue: Before the Fall

By Chapt

Before the world ended, Kai was just a boy with too many passwords and not enough sleep.

His life was a quiet loop—school, gaming, reading manga late into the night, and avoiding too much social interaction. His small room smelled faintly of instant noodles and laundry detergent, walls plastered with posters of space, anime, and one faded photo of him, his mom, and his younger sister, Amara. He kept that one near his desk, where his laptop always hummed softly like a second heartbeat.

He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t invisible either. Kai belonged to that in-between group of students who didn’t bother anyone and were rarely bothered in return. He liked it that way.

His best friend, Felix, used to joke that Kai was “soft-coded for apocalypse survival,” mostly because he always carried a power bank and a mini flashlight. Kai would laugh, rolling his eyes—but a part of him enjoyed the idea. He liked being prepared. He liked having control.

Control was comforting.

His mother worked long shifts at the hospital, her hugs always smelling of hand sanitizer and cheap vanilla lotion. She called him “her little moon,” said he was the calm in her chaos. Amara, younger by three years, followed him everywhere like a shadow, always asking him questions he pretended to be annoyed by but secretly loved answering.

Back then, the world was ordinary. The kind of ordinary you don’t realize is precious until it’s gone.

The first sign that something was wrong came in headlines—distant cities, faraway outbreaks. People dismissed it like a seasonal flu, a hoax, a government ploy. Kai remembered watching livestreams of chaos unravel in countries he'd never visited. He thought: It’s not here. We’re safe.

Then the news stopped being foreign.

Hospitals overflowed. Schools shut down. The streets grew tense. Grocery stores turned into battlegrounds. Kai’s mother stopped coming home.

And one day, the sky changed.

The sirens never stopped. The internet died quietly in the middle of the night. Power followed. Kai and Amara waited days in the dark. Then the neighbors screamed.

And then there was silence.

He didn’t like to remember what came next.

Not the running. Not the blood. Not the way Amara cried until her voice gave out. Not the way she went silent when—

No.

Not that.

Kai had built a wall inside his mind. Behind it lived the people he couldn’t bear to remember. The life he had before. The sound of his mother humming in the kitchen. The feel of Amara’s tiny hand in his. The crack of laughter during movie night. Felix messaging him memes at 2 a.m.

It all felt like a dream now. Something fragile and glowing and far too warm for this cold, broken world.

Now, all he had were ashes and echoes.

And the haunting hope that maybe—somewhere—someone else had survived

Chapter 1: Alone with the Dead

Kai had forgotten what silence used to sound like.

Not the quiet of early mornings or libraries or soft-spoken conversations—the world used to hum with life, even in its stillness. This silence was heavier. Oppressive. The kind that crawled under your skin and made you question if you were still real.

The air smelled like dust and decay, the sharp tang of rusted metal, smoke, and rot. Sunlight filtered weakly through the cloud-covered sky, casting the ruined city in a dull grey wash. It hadn’t rained in days, but the air still felt damp—like the world was holding its breath.

Kai walked with purpose, but every step felt hollow. He moved through the skeleton of what used to be home. The city was a carcass now—its bones twisted steel and broken glass. Vines had started to crawl over storefronts, taking back what people abandoned in a rush. A fallen traffic light lay half-submerged in rubble, its red glow permanently dead.

He stepped over a child’s bicycle, still intact, its little pink basket crushed. Kai didn’t stop to wonder about the child.

You couldn’t let yourself wonder anymore.

His backpack creaked with the weight of salvaged supplies—a mostly empty water bottle, two cans of food, a small first aid kit. Everything was bartered with risk. Sometimes it meant crawling through tight alleyways or searching through collapsed buildings. Other times it meant facing something worse.

But today, he hadn’t seen anything. No infected. No people.

The loneliness should’ve brought him comfort by now. It didn’t.

He adjusted the crowbar on his belt, more out of habit than fear. His fingers were calloused. Hands that once typed coding projects and held pens now gripped weapons. Hands that had once held his sister’s when she was afraid.

Kai pushed the thought away and moved toward a half-burned supermarket. The automatic doors were shattered, glass crunching beneath his boots. He ducked through the entrance, flashlight in hand.

Inside, the air was thick and unmoving. Shelves were ransacked. A dark smear of dried blood painted the freezer aisle. He scanned quickly—survival had no time for hesitation.

A dented can of soup. Two dusty protein bars tucked behind a fallen cereal box. He snatched them up. As he turned the corner, his flashlight caught on something small taped to a pillar.

A child’s drawing.

It was crude but full of love—stick figures of a family holding hands. A sun in the corner. The words “Come home safe, Daddy!” scrawled beneath in looping, shaky letters.

Kai’s breath caught in his throat.

He looked away too quickly, blinking hard. His chest ached, but he refused to let the tears fall. Tears didn’t change anything. They didn’t bring people back. They didn’t stop the hunger or the groaning shadows or the nights where sleep never came.

He moved into the back of the store, hoping to find something missed. The stockroom smelled like mold. A metal shelf had collapsed under the weight of time. He ducked beneath it and paused when he saw a cracked photo frame lying in the dust.

Two teenage boys stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing at the camera. One had his head tipped back in mid-laugh, the other was leaning in, half-blushing. There was a spark of something between them—something real.

Love.

Kai reached down and brushed the dust away. The glass was shattered, but the photo was mostly intact. He hesitated… then slipped it into his jacket.

He told himself it was for the paper.

Not because it reminded him of something he would never get to have.

Outside, a loud clang shattered the silence.

Kai froze.

It came from the alley behind the store.

He extinguished the flashlight instantly and crouched low, breath held. He could feel his heart thudding wildly against his ribs.

A scrape. A groan.

Not human.

He swallowed hard and reached for the crowbar. His grip tightened, sweat making his palms slick.

It shuffled closer.

He didn’t want to kill today.

Didn’t want to see another face that used to be someone.

But this world didn’t care what he wanted.

And Kai wasn’t sure he remembered how to want anything anymore.

Chapter 2: Shadows Move

Kai didn’t sleep much that night.

He'd holed up in the dusty backroom of an abandoned bookstore, its windows covered in soot, its air heavy with mildew and old ink. The place felt safer than most—no broken doors, no signs of looting, and more importantly, no bloodstains. He’d barricaded the door with a fallen shelf and curled into a corner, flashlight off, crowbar resting within arm’s reach.

But his eyes refused to close. His body was exhausted, aching from travel and tension, but his mind played tricks. Echoes of footsteps that weren’t there. Shadows shifting too naturally. Whispers in the wind that sounded almost like names.

Like his name.

“Kai...”

He jerked upright, heart in his throat.

Silence.

He pressed his back against the wall, straining to hear. There was nothing—no breathing, no shuffle of feet. Just the occasional creak of the old building and the hum of his own nerves.

Sleep finally took him, but it was shallow and restless. When he woke, the sun was barely beginning to rise, casting a sickly yellow hue through the cracks in the boards.

Kai stretched out his stiff limbs and pushed the shelf aside slowly. The streets were still. Dead still. He stepped out cautiously, backpack on, crowbar in hand.

He didn't know where he was going. He hadn’t known for a long time.

Survival didn’t require a destination—just movement.

Still, something about today felt different.

The air was colder. Not in temperature, but in weight. It pressed against his skin like an invisible fog. He moved through the city ruins in silence, passing hollow cars, shattered storefronts, and the occasional corpse long since emptied of life or anything resembling it.

At a street corner, he paused to drink from his water bottle, nearly empty now. He would need to find more soon. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, either, but his stomach had learned the difference between hunger and priority.

As he adjusted his bag, something flickered in the corner of his eye.

Movement.

His breath caught. He ducked quickly behind a rusted-out bus, heart pounding in his ears.

There it was again—just beyond the intersection, slipping behind a wall. A figure. Human-shaped. Fast.

Not infected. Too smooth. Too... alive.

Kai remained crouched, every muscle tight. He hadn’t seen another person in weeks. Maybe months. He didn’t know anymore. Was it safe to hope?

His mind screamed trap, but something deeper—older—whispered follow.

Cautiously, he stepped into the street, eyes sharp, body ready to run or fight. He followed the path the figure had taken, past collapsed billboards and broken signs. There was a trail—faint, but real. A smear of fresh footprints in the dust. Recent. Boots.

Whoever it was hadn’t tried to cover their tracks.

On instinct, he followed.

The trail led him through a narrow alley, where vines clung to stone like veins and sunlight struggled to reach the ground. He stepped carefully, trying not to crunch gravel beneath his boots.

A faint whistle floated through the air.

Kai froze.

Not a whistle from lips—but the low, metallic whisper of wind through a blade.

His eyes darted upward.

Too late.

The trap triggered.

A thick rope yanked him upward by the ankle, flipping him off his feet and into the air. He hit the ground hard, the crowbar flying from his grip as the world spun, and then—

Darkness.

He awoke to dim light, a pounding head, and the soft hum of fire.

Kai blinked, disoriented, as his vision adjusted. He was lying on a makeshift bed of cloth and moss, inside what looked like a reinforced underground bunker. The smell of smoke, earth, and something cooking filled the air.

A figure crouched near the fire, back turned.

Slender frame. Dark jacket. Short black hair that curled slightly at the neck.

Not infected.

Kai tensed.

The figure turned.

And in that moment, Kai’s breath stalled in his chest.

The stranger was… beautiful. Not in a soft, movie-star way—but striking. Sharp. Eyes like storm clouds—grey with a silver sheen. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of interest, maybe surprise.

“You’re awake,” the boy said.

Kai sat up slowly. His muscles ached.

“You—” he began, voice hoarse. “You set the trap?”

The boy gave a small shrug. “Didn’t expect anyone to actually fall for it.”

Kai scowled. “Lucky me.”

There was a silence. Not tense, but cautious. Like two animals circling.

“I checked your bag,” the boy added. “Didn’t take anything.”

“How generous.”

Another shrug. “Didn’t have much to take.”

Kai’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t press. He was too busy watching him.

The boy moved with calm precision—controlled, confident. There was something off about him, though. His skin looked too smooth. Almost too perfect. And those eyes…

“I’m Ren,” he said finally, stirring something in the pot.

Kai blinked. “Just Kai.”

“Just Kai,” Ren echoed, smiling faintly. “Well, Just Kai. You’re lucky. If I were someone else, you'd be dead by now.”

Kai studied him. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Ren looked over his shoulder.

Their eyes met.

And something passed between them—silent, quick, unspoken.

Ren’s voice was soft. “I don’t like killing.”

Kai didn’t respond. He didn’t trust it. But for the first time in months, something in him flickered.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something warmer.

Ren handed him a bowl.

“Eat. Then we talk.”

Kai stared down at the contents. Soup. Real, hot food. He hesitated, then took a bite.

Warmth spread down his throat. His fingers trembled slightly.

He looked up at Ren again.

Who was this boy?

And why, for the first time since the world ended, did Kai feel like… maybe he wasn’t alone anymore?