Year 2401.
Three hundred and eighty-two years after the fall of humanity.
In a place once called Bangkok.
Kaodin awoke beneath a broken sky — the air thick with the scent of rust and ash.He didn't know where he was.He didn't know when he was.Only that the world was gone.
The last thing he remembered was light — the roar of a stadium, his father's hand on his shoulder, his voice saying, "Breathe through the pain."Then came the flash.The fall.And the silence that followed.
He sat up slowly, the ground hard beneath him — dry and cold as metal.The horizon stretched out in a gray wasteland. No birds. No people. Only fractured towers rising like bones through the dust.The sun was pale, almost dead.His throat burned.He called out — once, twice — but no one answered.
His voice was the only human sound for miles.
The Days of Silence
The first night, he searched for water.By the second, he stopped searching for sleep.
Every sound made him flinch — the wind scraping rusted metal, the whisper of sand dragging through the wreckage.He scavenged what he could: cracked bottles, dried moss, a metal shard sharp enough to cut with.
His Muaythai calluses — once proud marks of training — blistered from crawling through concrete and wire.He tried shouting again, but his voice came out hoarse.There were no echoes here, only the hum of distant machinery — as if the world itself were breathing through dying lungs.
By the fifth day, he stopped counting.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the sound of pads slapping canvas — the rhythm of training — his father's voice calling the strikes:"Teep! Khao! Sork!"
He mimicked them, shadowboxing against the dark, pretending someone was still watching, but he quickly lost focus, his hunger makes it too hard to do exercise already, and he's started losing his memory for what he was thinking about just earlier.
The First Encounter
On the seventh night, he found the first thing that moved.
He had been following the faint drip of water through the drainage when he saw it — a figure hunched over a puddle, lapping at it like an animal.
At first, he thought it was human.Then it turned.
Its face was wrong — too long, jaw split, flesh gray and blistered.Eyes like rotten glass.The creature hissed, crawling toward him on all fours, its movements jerky and sharp.
Kaodin froze. His breath caught — not from fear, but disbelief.
Then instinct took over.When it lunged, he swung the metal shard he'd been using as a knife.The blade tore through its throat.
Hot black fluid splashed across his face.The creature twitched once, then stilled.
Kaodin stumbled back, trembling — not crying, not screaming, just staring.He scraped moss and grime from the wall and smeared it across his face, trying to wipe off the sticky black liquid from his face.His heart thundered in his chest.
In the faint afternoon light filtering through the sewer cracks, he looked closer — the thing had once been human.Pale skin. Empty white eyes. Mouth full of serrated teeth.
He whispered, almost to himself:"Is this Earth?Am I the only one left?Where's Mom? Dad?"
Then everything went black.
When he woke, he didn't call out again.
Something in him had changed that night.He stopped expecting rescue.He stopped expecting kindness.
Each day became repetition: find insects, eat moss, hide, stay quiet.He fought off two more of the gray things that week, learning where to strike — the neck, the base of the skull, the spot behind the jaw hinge.
He learned that mercy had no place here.These creatures looked human, but weren't. They couldn't speak, only attack.It was them or him.And he refused to die — not before finding his parents again.
The Sewer Refuge
By the tenth day, Kaodin discovered a service hatch beneath the ruins of a massive structure.Faded letters on the cracked arch read:MOONWALK ARENA.
He didn't remember it, but the name felt like something from another life — a place of cheers, not screams. And, right next to the sign, he noticed a digital display still blinking the current time, from the looks of it, on the roof, seems to appear, a solar panel in rectangular shape, and underneath it, a blinking displayed digital clock and calender, and the time it shows:
12:45 and the date Saturday 9th September 2401
How come it's 2401, it cant be, if this is 2401 then my grand mother would have told me how harsh the world would have been and also the school didn't mentioned any catastrophic occurrence during that year too.
Kaodin was counting fingers and noting down number on the sandy ground, the math was simple enough for the ten-year-old to see the peculiar in the number, noticing that 2401BE is equal to 1858 AD, that's wrong for sure, and why does it matter to me when I'm all alone here anyway.
He pried the hatch open with a rusted bar and climbed down.The tunnels below were half-flooded but intact — remnants of an underground maintenance grid.
He built a small refuge from broken pipes, old tarps, and plastic sheets.It wasn't home.It was survival.
He drank condensation from the ceiling, ate scraps from decayed ration tins, and marked time by the rhythm of the humming pipes.
Sometimes, he heard machines moving far above — enormous winged silhouettes whose lights shimmered faintly through the cracks.He never dared go closer. Not yet.
He waited.He trained.He endured.
The Waiting
By the second week, isolation became habit.He no longer spoke aloud.He no longer dreamed of rescue.
Only once did he break the silence — when he saw movement at the upper tunnel.He grabbed his shard and crouched low, ready to fight.
But it wasn't one of the gray ones.
The figures that descended were human-shaped, moving with calm precision — their voices low and strangely even.One taller, older — eyes sharp, calculating.The other smaller, younger, his expression full of unguarded curiosity.
They carried light — not fire, but something brighter, steadier.The older one spoke first, tone calm but firm:"How come you are staying here alone boy, when did you get here, last time we came through this area, didn't see you at all"
I was startled, I couldn't reply, even if I wanted to, my mouth was too dried.
I tried to speak, but what comes out is just dried air, I forgot when was the last time I even ate or drank, my memory wasn't functioning as regular too, and after all this time, how am I going to talk when there seems to be someone who could help me already appeared before me.
"You're safe. We're not here to harm you."
Kaodin, nodded, blinked, too weak to answer.The younger one crouched beside him, handing me a small flask of clean water."Here," he said. "Drink slow. You'll choke if you don't."
Kaodin hesitated, then drank.The water burned down his throat like life itself.
He coughed out after just a gulp of what seems to be the best taste of water I have ever had since I was born, and after I coughed out water, I insist to taste this heavenly water again, and just that I finished the flask, I even tried to bite the mouth of the flask, I twisted the flask for more drips of this heavenly water, but no more, so I gave up.
The taller man gave a faint nod, almost approving."You seems like a strong young boy, after some days in the recovery pod and you should be fine in no time" he said quietly. "What's your name?"as I tried to pronounce my name, my throat, haven't been fully used for a while, I coughed slightly before I could give out human recognizable words
"…Kaodin," the boy rasped.
The man exchanged a brief glance with his companion."we got place to stay, food, and also work, and safety too, Kaodin, do you want to come with us?"
Kaodin wanted to believe him, despite how suspicious its sound when an adult man and a boy my age abruptly approaching me, giving me water and asking if I would want to join.
He didn't yet know what these strangers were, what in the world happened around here that everything is unlike Bangkok I used to know — or what they would become in his story — one thing was certain:
He wasn't alone anymore.
As the two mysterious travelers exchanged low words he couldn't hear properly, Kaodin looked up through the broken grate above them.Lightning shimmered beyond the clouds, following through was a loud thundering voice faint and distant — like a dying heart remembering how to beat.
He closed his eyes.If these people meant to kill him, they would've done it already.If they meant to help — then maybe, just maybe —
I would be able to find out what happened to around here and so I could find a way to find my parents again.
And so began the story of the boy who is unbeknown to himself, a sinister jest from a demon who governs time, plunged him through the rift of time—into a world of rust, ruin, and how the domino effect would later be affecting his life, giving him power to fight on, or deprive him of his hope to return home safely.