The apocalypse has descended, and the once bustling countryside is now desolate.
A state highway winds forward, still relatively intact for the moment, though the scenery on both sides is bleak.
Withered weeds grow rampant, covering the uneven ground. Abandoned villas are looted and dismantled, leaving only collapsed bricks and tiles. Abandoned vehicles lie in tatters, silently narrating the harshness of the apocalypse.
An armed convoy rushes along the highway like a torrent, raising clouds of dust, stretching for two or three kilometers.
The scorching sun burns the earth like a fireball, yet the soldiers on the rooftops remain fully armed, their black helmets and bulletproof vests appearing particularly heavy under the sunlight.
Both the drivers gripping the steering wheels and the soldiers leaning against the cabin doors are tense, with nerves tightly wound, their eyes scanning the roadside's rustling dry grass with eagle-like focus.
