The Untitled Death Zone — The Amazon's Last Breath**
The black sky shimmered with scattered stars, glinting like the brushstrokes of a masterful artist.
Yet despite its beauty, the night felt... incomplete.
Anyone who gazed long enough would sense the absence of something vital—**the moon**, missing from this earth for a long, long time.
The place was known by mortals as **The Untitled Death Zone**, though long ago, it bore a different name:
**The Amazon Rainforest.**
Why that name?
Unlike the four other Death Zones, this region gave rise to more legends, more tales—told by unknown voices.
And yet, despite the lack of known narrators, its danger was never questioned.
Once revered as the **lungs of the Earth**, the forest had become a grave for all who dared enter.
More than half its trees had vanished, replaced by vast plains, jagged mountains that pierced the heavens, and dormant volcanoes that seemed to wait—patiently—for anyone foolish enough to disturb their slumber.
And in those lands, creatures beyond human imagination roamed freely.
A cold wind swept through the colossal trees—carrying with it rage, sorrow, longing, and a thirst for blood.
It wrapped itself around a lone figure treading through the heart of this forgotten land.
The figure was a young man, likely in his late twenties. His short black hair shifted with the breeze, brushing against his shoulders.
He wore intricate, beautiful clothing—a soft, faded blue like the early sky before dawn. A long cloak flowed behind him, swaying with each silent step.
His face was chiseled, expressionless. His violet eyes radiated an unnatural calm—indifference carved into every blink.
In his hand, he held a black **oil lantern**, its glass tinted like coal.
From within it, a quiet, ethereal blue light shone, stretching a few paces ahead in the darkness.
Despite the dry leaves, twigs, and bramble around him, not a sound escaped his movement.
As if he weren't bound by human laws at all—**as if he were a spirit himself.**
Eventually, he stopped a few meters before what appeared to be a long-forgotten graveyard, abandoned since time immemorial.
From within the graveyard, hollow voices began to rise—echoes of ancient ghosts buried beneath the earth.
Unfazed by the sounds—ones capable of shattering the minds of even the strongest warriors—the young man stepped calmly among the crumbling gravestones.
Suddenly, from nowhere, **pale, decaying hands** erupted from the ground, lunging for him, craving to tear his body apart.
With a serenity like still ocean water, the young man lifted his lantern to eye level.
The dead hands froze midair—paralyzed by its soft blue glow, as though time itself had halted.
His lips parted, and he spoke with detached indifference:
**"I'm afraid you've chosen the wrong target. Now\... disappear."**
As he spoke, the lantern's light flared like a tiny blue sun—swallowing every ghost in the area.
It was like a single candle extinguishing all the shadows.
From the largest and most ornate tomb, a **female voice** echoed—a laugh filled with wicked delight, like the seductive whisper of an ancient demoness.
**"Hahaha… Still as cold as ever. You've wiped out all my old companions."**
The young man continued walking, then sat atop one of the stone graves, his expression still blank as he looked toward the grand tomb.
**"Why did you summon me… you wretched soul?"**
She ignored his insult, replying with a chilling calm:
**"They've met. The Sky, the Moon, and the Sun. The world… has begun to stir."**
He exhaled slowly.
**"Too soon. But no matter. What do you want in exchange for this information?"**
The voice grew hungry—oozing with twisted desire:
**"A body. A vessel to leave this place.
Preferably… someone broken, desperate. Someone who's lost everything—shattered beyond repair.... And one who carries the legacy of the Lost."**
He glanced at the surrounding graves, then returned his gaze to the voice's source—contemplating, calculating.
After a moment of silence, he spoke again:
**"Even if I let you live… Adam would kill you without effort. Targeting a pillar in his plan means only death."**
The feminine voice chuckled again—this time darker, louder. The very air trembled with it.
**"That would be fascinating… A human, slaying a soul that bears a demon's name. Just release me… and we'll see."**
With that, the young man rose and began to walk away—his face still a mask of indifference.
Just before fading into the darkness, he muttered:
**"Perhaps… God hasn't abandoned this world after all."**
*********
The Second Death Zone — The Drowned Forest (Northern Africa)**
The Second Death Zone had swallowed the entire northern half of the African continent. Now, it was known only as **the Drowned Forest**.
On the horizon, mountains pierced the sky like monstrous fangs hungry for a bite of the heavens. Below them sprawled an endless forest—vast, primal, and impossibly ancient. Its towering trees stretched into the clouds, bathed in the silvery glow of the moon.
Nestled in a quiet clearing between those mighty trees stood a modest tent, dyed in a beautiful shade of blue. In front of it, seated on a simple wooden chair, was a man.
His long, blue hair danced gently in the wind. His simple clothes left his well-sculpted chest exposed, while a royal blue mantle rested loosely on his shoulders. In his hand was a glass bottle—he lifted it to his lips only to discover it was empty.
**"Ahh… Silver Moon, it's me—Adam. Why won't you answer my call? Let's end this. Let me kill you… kill the others… pierce the heavens, and finally get some rest."**
His words drifted into the night, unanswered, swallowed by the vastness around him. He sighed and glanced again at the bottle in his hand.
Then, like magic, stardust—glimmering and blue—swirled in the air. It filled the bottle in an instant, the particles melting into a fine liquid—smooth, radiant, and rare. The kind of drink for which men would trade half their fortune just for a sip.
From behind Adam, two figures emerged.
The first was a man—of similar age, with long golden hair and pale skin. His white, priest-like robes gave him a sacred, almost divine air. His golden eyes carried wisdom, and the thin beard and mustache lining his face only added to his noble appearance.
The second was a woman, but her presence was… subtle. Half-there, half-absent. Draped in a long violet veil that covered her entirely—save for her full, bright red lips, seductive and mysterious.
Adam beamed at them.
**"Cassian. And my dear sister-in-law—or should I say, the Lock Witch. So… it's happened, hasn't it?"**
Cassian let out a long breath, his eyes drifting to the silver moon above.
**"You know the Moon can hear and see you, Adam. What if it actually answers your challenge?"**
Adam waved dismissively.
**"As if it would. That thing doesn't even acknowledge my existence—despite the fact I'm the strongest man alive."**
He took another breath. The stardust swirled again, this time forming two more vessels—a steaming cup of fragrant tea for the veiled woman, and a crystal glass of strawberry juice for Cassian.
With a graceful snap of her fingers, the woman summoned two chairs. She and Cassian sat. Then she spoke—her voice like velvet wine, soaking the ears in delight.
**"They've met, Adam. The Sun, the Moon, and the Sky. Surely others know by now."**
Adam took a long sip from his bottle, his expression unchanged.
**"But since they're in *my* city, no one will dare approach—at least, not yet. Will you take care of them for now? Cassian and I still need to restore balance to this forest."**
The witch remained silent for a moment. Then, elegantly, she took a delicate sip of her tea, savoring it like the finest flavor in the world.
**"So… you're dumping your work on me again,"** she sighed, before raising her eyes toward the silver moon high above.
**"I'll handle them until they mature a little. After that, the gears will begin to turn."**
Adam offered her a thankful smile, then asked playfully:
**"Now tell me, what do you both *truly* desire right now? As for me—I just want to hug my beloved wife again… and play a little with my children, even though they've grown so much."**
The two exchanged glances before Cassian replied first:
**"I want to go home. Rest beside my wife—away from this madness. My presence here only troubles her."**
The witch bit her luscious lips in soft longing.
**"I want a husband,"** she whispered. **"I want to marry and… disappear with him."**
Adam closed his eyes for a moment.
**"Well… as king, and as the strongest living man… I apologize. This cursed chaos has kept you from your wife, Cassian. And you, Witch—I'm sorry you're still alone. I promise, in my name and title… I'll end all of this soon."**
The three of them shared a laugh—soft, lighthearted, almost childish. A rare moment of joy, floating like a forgotten memory in the middle of the most dangerous place on Earth.
They raised their drinks, toasting their enduring friendship, laughing like the old days… as if death weren't lurking in every shadow.
And as the moment lingered, the witch whispered to herself:
**"Whether the god loves or hates this world… there is only one ending—and it lies in human hands."**
With a sly smile gracing her lips, she whispered again:
**"Little lost one… ignite your heart, and strengthen your will—for you are the center of the storm."**
Cassian's voice rang out beside her, breaking the quiet with his usual banter toward Adam:
**"Hah… some things never change, even in the darkest of times."**