The apocalypse began with the earth splitting open across the globe. Massive cracks tore through the planet's surface, releasing enormous roots that writhed up from the depths like the world was giving birth to something unspeakable.
Among these twisted growths, fruit emerged that looked disturbingly like human hearts—black-thorned husks that pulsed with their own sick rhythm. People called them "Life's Fresh."
At first, survivors thought they were gifts from God, compensation for surviving hell on earth. The truth was uglier: they were biological weapons that ate humanity from the inside out.
Governments tried to contain the spread, but curiosity and desperation proved stronger than common sense. Millions made contact—some deliberately, others by accident. Then came the first roar, followed by countless others echoing from every corner of the world. The cries of the "Vine-born," human beings twisted into something else entirely.
Bodies were stretched and torn apart, then rebuilt wrong. Skin split to reveal writhing muscle underneath, driven by base animal hunger. Some developed terrifying new abilities. Others kept their minds trapped inside monstrous shells, making them far more dangerous than the mindless ones.
Many died instantly. Those who showed no symptoms became walking time bombs. Nobody could tell if they or their neighbors were still clean.
Cities fell. Armies collapsed. Governments crumbled to dust. Gunfire faded beneath the endless howling of Vine-born hordes. Animals and plants mutated alongside humans as the roots spread everywhere, rewriting the world according to their own twisted rules.
But sometimes Life's Fresh chose to merge instead of consume. These rare individuals gained extraordinary powers they could actually control—superhuman abilities that varied from person to person. "The Awakened," humanity called them. They were hope, but there weren't nearly enough of them, and most stayed hidden.
Years passed since that first day of horror. What remained of the old world became backdrop for something infinitely worse.
This story begins in River Bend, a border town in the southern wasteland where nobody trusts anyone to be fully human anymore.
Wind howled through rusted metal in River Bend's maze of alleys. Leon stood motionless in the shadow of a crumbling building, eighteen years old but looking older. His black hair carried streaks of premature white, and sharp eyes constantly scanned for threats. Faint scars marked his angular face—evidence of a life that had never been easy. His hands looked slender but held surprising strength.
Leon had no last name. His parents dumped him in this survival pit when he was small, claiming it was "training," then vanished. He'd grown up hungry, running, fighting for every day he stayed alive. River Bend had turned him into a master observer and, when necessary, a ruthless opportunist.
Weak sunlight filtered through River Bend's skeletal remains as Leon leaned against an alley wall, metal pipe within easy reach. His black-and-white hair stirred in the breeze while alert eyes swept the area.
Scratch... scrape...
Movement in the garbage pile caught his attention. Three or four mutant rats emerged from the shadows, eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. The stench of rot mixed with metallic blood hung in the stagnant air.
"Here we go again," Leon muttered, cataloging their positions instantly. Three on the left, one hiding behind that barrel. He picked up the steel pipe with practiced calm, feeling its familiar weight.
The lead rat bared yellowed fangs, coiling to attack.
Leon didn't wait. He kicked a discarded metal can positioned nearby.
Clang!
The crash froze the front three rats mid-lunge, instinct forcing them to turn toward the noise.
That was all Leon needed.
He closed on the nearest one, pipe descending with surgical precision.
Crack!
Bone snapped. The creature flew into the wall and dropped, twitching once before going still.
The other two spun back, snarling with feral rage. Leon twisted away from snapping jaws, his weapon arcing back to connect with exposed ribs at full force.
Screech!
It hit the ground convulsing.
One left in front, plus the hidden one. Leon feinted toward the visible rat, and when it braced for impact, he suddenly pivoted, swinging his pipe at the barrel he'd marked from the start.
Crash! Thud!
Metal rang against skull. The lurking rat dropped before it knew what hit it.
The last one wavered, seeing its pack destroyed. It turned as if to flee. Leon stepped forward and ended it with a single clean strike.
Blood scent mixed with swirling dust in the narrow space. Leon stood over the four corpses, expression unchanged, then snapped his fingers once.
"Leon! Still playing with your old friends?" Eva's voice called from the alley mouth. She walked in with short brown hair looking wind-tossed, glanced at the carnage and shook her head. "Clean work as always."
Leon looked at Eva briefly. "What's up?" he asked, tone flat. No interest in small talk.
"Old Barton wants you," Eva said, making a face as she stepped closer, giving the rat bodies another look. "Standard patrol stuff, plus he's bitching about 'that thing' again." She glanced meaningfully at the sky, worry flickering in her eyes—something Leon caught immediately.
Leon followed her gaze upward. Sunlight was getting stronger, and for a moment something thoughtful crossed his features before disappearing. He ran fingers through his hair, feeling the white strands mixed in. Hidden anxiety about unseen forces surfaced briefly. "Red Mist?"
"Yeah. Going on about how it's almost time again. Or maybe just looking for shit to complain about—you know how old people get." Eva sighed, then managed a small smile. "Either way, we should move. Show up late and we get another lecture, and the patrol team's waiting. Without you watching the route, they'll probably wander straight into a Vine-born nest."
Leon nodded once. "Right." He filed away his Red Mist concerns, took a final look at the dead rats, then led Eva out of the narrow alley. Only rust smell and returning silence remained.
But silence never lasted long in River Bend.