Three months later.
The world had plunged into chaos, suffering on a scale previously unimaginable. In these three days, the global economy had disintegrated, vital infrastructures lay in ruins, human resources were devastated, and humanity had faced a shattering defeat against the Demons.
A brutal war had erupted between the Demons and Humans, and the humans had been spectacularly vanquished. Humanity’s arsenal—tanks, helicopters, fighter jets, and even nuclear weapons—had proven utterly impotent. None of their formidable weaponry could even scratch the immense centipedes tearing through cities.
But it wasn’t just the centipedes that had spilled from the portal. Gargantuan bats and a swarm of colossal insects had also emerged, their sheer size and ferocity amplifying the devastation.
Survivors had clung to life by taking refuge in the dim, claustrophobic confines of the subways. I was among them.
“Many countries have fallen,” someone said, their voice trembling with fear and desperation. “It seems like it’s only a matter of time before the Demons conquer the entire world. What the fuck do we do?!”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot!” another voice erupted, sharp and defensive. “The United States hasn’t fallen yet, and plenty of other countries are still fighting back! If we wait for rescuers, we might be able to reach a place that’s still holding out against the invasions!”
“Safe places? Are you out of your fucking mind? Those portals have spread across the globe. Do you really think we can escape total destruction even if we get rescued?!”
“It’s better than rotting away in this filthy subway!” someone argued, their voice a mix of desperation and hope. “I heard they have an underground facility that can keep those fucking centipedes out!”
“But do you really think they’ll save us?!” another voice shot back, filled with dread.
The atmosphere was thick with tension. People were on edge, their anxiety and fear intensifying as the world seemed to unravel before their eyes. I wasn’t completely overwhelmed, though. Maybe it was because I had a burning resolve to survive. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t die. Dying now would feel like betraying Tsubasa-kun. He had saved me, sacrificed himself so I could keep living. I couldn’t waste the chance he gave me. I refused to let myself be another casualty.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, filling the air with a burst of static. It was an old device, set up to catch any transmissions from rescuers calling for survivors.
“For all survivors in the area, at around 10 P.M., we will be flying overhead to search for you. Make sure to reach the highest point of your building. I repeat, for all survivors in the area, at around 10 P.M., we will be flying overhead to search for you. Get to the highest point of your building. Good luck.”
The announcement pierced through the tension.
“Thank god! They’re finally coming for us!”
The seven other survivors, excluding me, erupted in celebration. They hugged each other tightly and cheered, their faces lit up with a rare flicker of hope. I, however, couldn’t share their optimism.
These people were deluded if they thought their troubles were over just because of that announcement. Didn’t they realize that getting to a building before rescue was even possible was a huge challenge? The nearest building was about a kilometer away from this subway. Plus, we had to hold out until 10 P.M. We still had to survive against the Infected, those twisted beings tainted by the Demon Virus. And who knew if the rescuers themselves would make it through the flying giant locusts and bats that dominated the sky?
But being that pessimistic wasn’t going to help. I couldn’t afford to stay in that mindset. I had to survive too. These people were as desperate as they were because they, too, wanted to live.
At 4 P.M., we decided to leave the subway. The air outside was stifling, thick with decay and the scent of death. The heat was oppressive, and the sky was a sickly, blood-red hue, casting a hellish glow over the desolate landscape. The devastation stretched as far as the eye could see, a haunting reminder of the world that once was. It was hard to believe that this barren wasteland was once the vibrant Earth I had known for 18 years.
“Now, all we need to do is get to that building over there,” one of the survivors said, pointing to a distant structure barely visible through the haze. It was the only building still standing amidst the destruction.
“It’s a long way off,” another added. “But if we keep quiet and stay out of sight, we might make it without drawing the Infected’s attention.”
We moved cautiously, each step measured to avoid drawing the Infected’s attention.
The Infected were those who had been ravaged by what we dubbed the Demon Virus. This plague had surged forth following the declaration of war by Satania, a woman who had claimed the title of Wrath of the Seven Deadly Sins. Alongside her, the other Six Deadly Sins had descended upon us: Lucielle of Pride, Beelzebub of Gluttony, Asmodeus of Lust, Morsea of Greed, Levi of Envy, and Belphegor of Sloth. These seven, branding themselves as the Seven Princesses of Hell, had set the world ablaze with their unrelenting destruction, leaving Earth shattered and decimated.
The Demon Virus took hold when someone was exposed to a surge of demonic radiation, or if they were scratched, bitten, or if any fluids from the infected entered their mouth, eyes, or any other vulnerable opening. If any of these scenarios occurred, infection was a certainty.
Once the virus took root, you’d instantly transform into a Demon Zombie, or more simply, an Infected. The symptoms would kick in the moment you came into contact with the virus.
The infection advances through four horrifying stages.
Stage one initiates with the infected becoming increasingly agitated and experiencing slight vision problems. Their neck begins to itch persistently, driving them mad with discomfort. It’s a prelude to the more grotesque changes to come.
Stage two ramps up the torment. The neck grows inflamed, a deep, angry red, and the itchiness becomes unbearable. Black, sinewy fungus begins to creep over their fingernails and toenails, turning them an eerie, pitch black. The nails grow at a feverish pace, while the redness spreads and the skin acquires a harsh, leathery texture. They’re gradually morphing into something far more demonic.
Stage three ushers in a disturbing transformation in diet, with the infected now ravenously consuming live animals. Their skin morphs into a full, leather-like armor. Vision deteriorates to a horrifying range of either blurry, infrared, night vision, or complete blindness. The skin darkens to a sinister, deep red, while the irises and pupils turn an unsettling, ghostly white. Their hairline recedes rapidly, marking the point of no return where their humanity is completely eroded.
Stage four is the final, grotesque metamorphosis into a full-fledged Demon Zombie, stripped of all traces of their former selves.
Unlike typical zombies, Demon Zombies are a twisted blend of monster and human, each one sporting a grotesque mix of traits and powers. Their appearances are as varied as they are horrifying, from misshapen, tentacled horrors to nightmarish beasts with unnatural limbs. Others sprouting extra limbs or eyes. Despite their monstrous forms, they retain that mindless, zombie-like drive, which is why we still label them as Demon Zombies.
To avoid succumbing to the same fate, we drape ourselves in thick, heavy clothing—fabric tough enough to withstand the tearing claws of the infected. Our heads are shielded with reinforced helmets and face masks, designed to block any vile fluids that might attempt to breach our defenses. We’ve also outfitted our gear with camouflage, hoping it will blend us into the chaotic, apocalyptic landscape and keep us hidden from the nightmarish gaze of Demon Zombies and their Demon Monsters.
“It looks like we’re in the clear for now. No monsters or Infected around,” one of the survivors announced, his voice a mix of relief and tension. He was on lookout duty, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow and movement for any sign of danger. His vigilance was crucial; he’d give us a shout if anything popped up, so we could get ready for a fight. For now, it was still 4 in the afternoon, and the monsters and Infected were keeping a low profile. But as soon as night fell, they’d swarm the area.
“We don’t have much time, though. Nightfall’s coming fast,” another survivor pointed out. “Goddamnit! If they had given us this announcement earlier, or hell, if they’d scheduled it for the morning or afternoon, maybe we’d have had more time. But no, they had to dump this shit on us at fucking 10 P.M.!”
“Shhh! Keep it down, or we’ll attract their attention,” another survivor hissed urgently.
So far, we hadn’t been spotted by the zombies, but I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking this would be a smooth ride. The journey was far from over, and our destination was still a long way off. This was just the beginning of a brutal and relentless struggle.
