The border of the West Ends felt like a memory as Leo stepped into the ashen remains of what was once a proud civilization.
The Land of Dragons—China—loomed before him, though now it was but a shadow of the stories he had heard.
Cracked concrete stretched into the horizon, and rusted street signs hung like forgotten relics. Skyscrapers stood as hollow skeletons, their windows shattered, their insides devoured by time and nature.
Leo walked through the wide roads of the ruined city, his boots crunching over broken glass and gravel. The eerie silence pressed against his ears. There was no wind, no birdsong—only the ghost of a once-thriving city, now known as Tianhui.
He scouted the area with disciplined caution. Every alley was checked, every building briefly searched.
Grocery stores had long been stripped bare, and their shelves lay crumpled and broken.
The basements of residential blocks, some buried under rubble, revealed no signs of life. Not even rats.
He passed a rusted sign that read "Tianhui Central Park" and eventually arrived near what looked like a small stadium or public sports ground.
Vines curled over the fences. The bleachers were empty. It was here, amid the haunting quiet, that something shifted.
A blur moved in his peripheral vision.
Leo spun on instinct—too late.
"Get him!"
A sharp crack echoed through the air as something hard struck his back. He rolled forward, absorbing the impact, and came up into a low crouch. Blades gleamed around him. A half-dozen masked figures emerged from the shadows, wielding crude weapons—some with machetes, others with sharpened rods.
"What the hell? Are you guys mad? Why are you attacking me?" Leo shouted, his voice calm but edged with irritation.
The group hesitated. One of the attackers—a man with a torn scarf around his face—stopped mid-swing. "Wait... you can talk?"
"Of course I can talk," Leo growled. "Do I look like a mutated beast to you?"
Silence.
Then one of them, a young woman in her early twenties, stepped forward.
Her mask lowered, revealing a weary but intelligent face. "Sorry… sorry about that. It's just… out here, it's hard to trust anyone. We thought you were one of them—a mutant that had gained sentience. Some of them do, you know."
Leo exhaled slowly and straightened. "Understandable. Just don't try it again."
The girl nodded, looking genuinely regretful. "I'm Stacey. Leader of this group… or what's left of it. Who are you?"
"Leo."
"Are you from this region?"
"No. I came from the West. Across the barrens. I'm originally from the Middle East."
Stacey's eyes widened slightly. "The Middle East? That's… halfway across the continent."
Leo gave a faint nod. "More or less. Geography's a bit messed up now, though."
She smiled, almost wistfully. "You're not wrong."
"Come on," she said after a pause. "Let's get you to our camp. You're lucky we didn't kill you. We don't usually take chances."
'Kill me'. Leo laughed in his mind.
He followed them silently through the cracked streets. The city's skyline loomed like the jagged teeth of a great beast, casting long shadows in the dying light.
The camp wasn't far—beneath a half-collapsed apartment building. The entrance was hidden under debris, camouflaged expertly.
Inside the basement, Leo saw a grim sight. About ten to fifteen people, all ragged and thin, huddled around a weak electric heater hooked to a solar panel.
Four or five of them lay under blankets, coughing and moaning, their skin pale and their eyes hollow.
Stacey watched Leo survey the group. "As you can see, we're not in the best shape. Food is scarce. Medical supplies are rarer. And immunity… well, we're losing that too."
Leo didn't comment. He'd seen this before. Too many times.
They sat around a small bonfire later that evening, using scrap wood and furniture as fuel. Stacey grilled a small piece of meat—rat, perhaps, or dog. She offered Leo a portion.
He took it without complaint.
"You don't look like you're from here," she said softly, watching him.
"I'm not."
"Where, exactly, in the Middle East?"
Leo took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "Originally from what used to be Lebanon. But like I said, geography doesn't mean much now. The lands have shifted—tectonic ruptures after the Cataclysm. I only say 'Middle East' so people get a rough idea."
Stacey nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. But still… crossing that much land? Alone?"
"It wasn't easy," he said. "But I had no choice."
Another survivor, a man around his thirties with sharp features, leaned in. "You crossed the Dead Fog Zone? The Hazard Belt?"
Leo nodded.
"Impossible," the man muttered. "No one survives that."
Leo shrugged. "Guess I'm no one."
The group exchanged glances. They were wary but also intrigued. Leo's strength was undeniable—even if he was modest about it.
"Why are you here?" Stacey asked after a moment.
Leo stared into the flames. "Wandering. Searching. Learning. Maybe building something."
"Building what?"
He looked at her. "An empire."
The silence grew heavier.
Finally, the older man laughed—a dry, broken sound. "An empire? In this world?"
Leo didn't laugh. He didn't need to.
"…What do you know about the zones?" Leo asked, changing the subject.
Stacey exhaled and leaned back. "Tianhui was once a thriving city. But after the apocalypse, it fell fast. The Keepers were killed, and without them, monsters flooded in. Most people either fled toward fortified zones or died."
"Why did you stay?"
"We couldn't get out," she said. "To the north, there's Zone 4. Strong fortress. Good defenses. But between here and there… lies about 60 miles of barren land teeming with Level 3 mutants. Some are fast as lightning. Others have skin like steel. And some… use the terrain like they were born to it."
Leo nodded. "Sounds about right."
"You planning to cross?"
"Yes."
Another survivor, a young boy of perhaps fifteen, stared at Leo with wide eyes. "Can we come with you?"
Stacey looked torn. She looked at the sick, then at Leo. "We… we'd like to. But some of us are too weak. Three or four of them might not last another day."
Leo didn't answer right away. His silence spoke volumes.
Stacey's shoulders slumped. "I know. Dead weight."
"I didn't say that," Leo replied, his voice softer than expected.
"But it's true," she said. "We've known for a while. Just didn't want to admit it."
The fire crackled. Shadows danced on the walls.
"We move at sunrise," Leo said.
"What if the sick can't move?"
Leo stood. "Then they don't."
No one argued.
Stacey rose too. "I'll prepare the others."
Leo paused. "You have courage. That's rare."
She smiled faintly. "It's not courage. It's desperation."
He left the firelight and sat alone near the basement's edge. Outside, the wind howled through broken glass and rusted beams. But inside, in this moment, there was still something left.
Hope.