Two Days Ago — The Day Devon Destroyed Lab 7398
Deep within the forest, not far from the ruins of the lab, Devon walked in a single direction. His steps were steady. Determined. Yet a single thought lingered in his mind like an itch he couldn't scratch.
(Why are they following me?)
He glanced over his shoulder.
Behind him marched an unsettling procession of monsters and beasts. Some towered above the trees, others slithered low like shadows. There was no growling, no snarling—just silent, obedient following. No hesitation. No defiance.
Big or small, it didn't matter. They were all simply... there.
Devon faced forward again, trying to ignore their presence. A part of him was relieved none had attacked. After all, he didn't know how to fight. Not yet. Not in the way they expected.
At least… that's what he thought.
His gaze drifted to his hand. Black smoke—thin and faint—coiled off his fingertips like a whisper. He stared for a moment, then clenched his fist and kept walking.
Eventually, the trees began to thin, and the forest gave way to open space. But what lay beyond stopped him cold.
Ruins.
Massive buildings, once towering like mountains, now lay half-collapsed and scorched. The cracked roads below were littered with rusted cars and broken glass. Not a single soul in sight. No birds. No wind. Just stillness.
Strangely, despite the destruction, nature seemed to be winning. Vines and roots burst through asphalt and concrete. Trees bloomed through window frames. Grass thrived where no soil should have existed.
Devon stepped onto the cracked pavement. As he did, a worn and rusted sign caught his eye. Faded letters barely clung to the surface, but he could just make out the words:
"New... York."
He repeated it aloud, tasting the name as if it were ancient and unfamiliar.
New York...
That had to be the name of the city. Or at least what remained of it.
He moved forward, weaving between empty husks of vehicles. Some were vacant. Others still held skeletal remains—long since turned to dust and silence.
Unsettled, he stopped peering into them.
The city's ruins loomed closer. As he stepped into a toppled building, it became clear that everything here was… advanced. Far beyond anything he had seen in his old hometown. The architecture, the machines, the strange designs carved into steel and glass—it was all foreign.
Or what used to be home, he corrected himself.
And yet, one question dug into him more than the rest:
(Why would the people of the old world leave?)
As if in response, a pressure swept over him.
Devon froze.
From deeper in the city, a presence stirred. It was dark. Heavy. Ancient. Something in the air shifted—a whisper of dread threading through the windless streets.
His heart didn't race. His expression didn't change.
But his fingers…
…began to smoke again.
Looking toward the source of the strange pressure pulsing through the city, Devon narrowed his eyes.
(Whatever made them run… it's probably that.)
He turned to check behind him—expecting to see the monsters and beasts still following in his shadow.
But they were gone.
All of them. Vanished.
Not a single footprint. No rustle. No sound.
They had disappeared without warning, without a trace.
(How…?)
It didn't make sense. They had been there just moments ago, loyal and silent. Yet now, the world was eerily still.
He exhaled slowly, trying not to dwell on it. Creatures of darkness often moved in ways beyond human logic. Maybe this was just one of them.
So, he kept moving.
He wandered through buildings, most of which seemed to be food stores or abandoned markets. Their shelves were empty, their walls cracked and overrun with vines and decay.
Then, something caught his eye.
Far ahead stood a structure—too sturdy to have been reduced to rubble, yet not tall enough to have collapsed under its own weight. It stood somewhere in the middle—forgotten, but intact.
Devon recognized the layout from fragments of old-world books he had read. Places where crowds once gathered, not for survival, but for luxury, leisure.
A mall.
Curiosity drew him closer. Before heading toward the ominous pressure looming in the city's heart, he decided to explore.
He reached the mall's entrance. The sign above was battered and illegible, its bold letters faded beyond recognition. Still, it was enough to confirm what this place used to be.
He stepped inside.
Unlike the ruin outside, the interior was strangely preserved—dim, but quiet. Lifeless.
Skeletons lay scattered across the floor like forgotten echoes of the past. Devon paused, taking it in before pressing forward.
The corridors wound through abandoned stores. Dusty bookshops, decaying food outlets, shattered jewelry displays… But what caught his attention most were the clothing stores.
He'd never cared about style. His old life hadn't allowed him that luxury. But something about the designs here—the fit, the fabric, the colors—spoke of a different world. A better one.
Before long, he emerged from one of the stores, dressed in his new clothes. Sleek, dark, modern. For the first time, he felt oddly confident.
But the feeling didn't last.
CRASH.
A section of the ceiling above gave way.
Devon stumbled back, coughing as dust filled the air. He waved it away, eyes scanning the area for the source of the impact.
As the haze cleared, he saw a silhouette. A tall figure stood in the dust, unmoving, facing him directly.
(A person?)
His breath caught in his throat.
(How could someone still be here? I thought… I thought everyone was gone.)
The figure held a staff, but that was the only familiar thing about it. As the dust thinned, Devon realized the truth.
It wasn't a person at all.
Its horns curled like celestial spirals, forming constellations in midair. Tattered robes fluttered around it, trailing a vortex of whispering stars. Where its face should have been, there was only a shroud—a void that drank in all light and gave nothing back.
Then it spoke.
The voice was low and guttural, echoing through the ruins with ancient weight.
"I have been waiting for you… Devon."