I don't really know when I woke up.
Actually, I don't even know if "woke up" is the right word.
I opened my eyes because some part of me decided I'd been unconscious—dead, or whatever the hell I was—long enough.
The first thing I felt wasn't pain, and it wasn't fear.
It was the damn smell.
A thick, humid, heavy stench that clung to the back of my throat like a small animal trying to crawl its way back inside me.
It was a mix of moldy flesh and old blood. Nothing pleasant.
When my vision finally focused, I saw the destroyed ceiling above me—if "ceiling" was even the right term.
Hanging stones, twisted beams, cracks that opened into a sick-looking gray sky.
It was the kind of scene that would make any normal person think "oh, f***ing hell."
I wasn't that lucky—my head was still buzzing.
I just stared, trying to understand how I'd ended up there.
It took me a few seconds to realize where I was.
Broken pews.
A crooked aisle leading to an altar covered by a torn, stained purple cloth.
Dust and mold—way too much mold—mixed with candles melted down to nubs.
Everything screamed: "no one's stepped in here in years, and honestly, they should've stayed away."
It was a church.
And I had… the impression I knew this place.
But only as a feeling—like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can't quite remember.
I tried to pull anything out of my head, but nothing came. No names, no memories, nothing.
I took a deep breath, purely on instinct, and that was a terrible mistake.
The air came thick with dust and death, and I started coughing like I'd inhaled sawdust.
My eyes watered—and probably my soul did too.
"At least I'm still breathing."
Yeah. I'd apparently decided it was time to start lying to myself.
I tried to stand, but my legs reacted like they belonged to someone else—someone very old or very drunk.
I braced a hand on the floor, and that's when I learned something important: things can absolutely get worse.
The altar and the walls were cracked, the pillars crooked.
Everything felt… wrong.
Not abandoned—more like violated.
If you looked closely, you could tell someone had tried to destroy this place.
Judging by the size of the cracks, it must've been out of pure rage.
"Have I been here before?"
The question kept hammering in my head, but no answer came.
I needed to get out.
The door—what was left of it—was right ahead. The wood was so rotten that I could see it falling apart every time the wind blew.
The hinges creaked; if I hadn't seen them move, I would've thought it was a scream.
The leaning pillars made it look like they were trying to flee before the whole place collapsed.
I limped toward the exit.
Every part of my body screamed like it was being used for the first time.
And when I reached the step, everything got worse.
My foot slipped.
Just like that.
My weight pitched forward, but I still tried to catch myself with my hand—and the universe repaid my optimism immediately.
Pain shot through my wrist, sharp and vicious, like someone had shoved shards of glass under my skin.
"Ahh—shit…"
Even through the hot, throbbing pain crawling up my arm, I noticed something stupid:
I didn't recognize my own voice.
"Is that… my voice?"
I didn't recognize it.
I didn't recognize anything.
I clutched my wrist with my other hand, tears stinging my eyes.
It swelled fast… probably broken.
As if things weren't bad enough, I now had another problem to add to my growing list of "problems I never asked for."
"Where… am I?"
I was glad no one answered—but also worried by that fact.
For whatever reason, I kept moving toward the exit.
And when I looked outside… I wished I hadn't.
"Holy shit…"
What I saw wasn't a city.
It was the corpse of one.
Skyscrapers leaned, some broken in half like giant hands had crushed them in desperation.
Exposed steel beams jutted out like unearthed bones.
Cars were melted together in grotesque lumps, as if someone had tried to sculpt chaos out of metal.
The asphalt was torn open in wide gashes—deep, painful wounds in the ground.
And the river—what used to be a river—was now a thick, dark mass with an oily sheen.
The fallen bridge looked like something had taken a bite out of it.
And the silence… God, the silence…
It was suffocating.
Only the wind howling through broken buildings gave that place any kind of life—and even that sounded like a dying wail.
"Seriously… do I know this place?"
The question came back, and the déjà vu hit so hard it felt like a punch to the chest.
Like seeing a dream I'd never had.
Then the stench rose again from the stairs—stronger this time.
I looked.
My mind stalled.
My sanity nearly followed.
Bodies.
The staircase was covered in bodies.
Men, women… and pieces.
Some whole, frozen in a final silent scream—empty eyes, open mouths.
Others melted and fused into the concrete in shapes that weren't human anymore, as if something had smashed several people together into a single pulsating mass.
Some were just… red, formless lumps.
I vomited instantly.
The bile burned my throat and the smell made everything worse.
"I need to get out…"
But my legs trembled, refusing to obey.
Every time I looked again, I had the sickening impression the bodies were closer.
"It's just my imagination… has to be… probably…"
Somehow, I dragged myself back inside the church, breathing deeply to keep from passing out even though the moldy, stagnant air made the nausea worse.
My eyes burned, and I couldn't tell if I was shaking from fear or pain.
"Shit… shit…"
That's when I heard it.
A deep, distorted wail—something between a whale's call and a human scream stretched until it tore.
The vibration didn't enter through my ears, it entered through my bones.
I turned back toward the city.
And I saw it.
A colossal shape rising between the destroyed buildings.
My brain tried to deny it—some part of me knew something like that shouldn't, couldn't exist.
But my eyes said otherwise.
It was a towering mass of living flesh, pulsing in red and brown, with thick, vessel-like lines moving beneath the surface.
Each slow shift crushed buildings like soda cans.
"What the hell is that thing?"
Every step it took made the ground tremble in a growing rhythm, shards falling from the ruins around it.
I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.
Then things got worse—again.
And I didn't even know they could get worse.
Cracks opened across the church floor.
Yellowish blisters bubbled up, swelling fast and bursting with a sour, bloody stench.
My eyes burned.
A yellow haze spread across the room.
Blinking hard, I saw… eyes.
Black, round eyes blinking slowly.
Hundreds of them.
No—thousands.
A cold shiver crawled up my spine, like invisible fingers brushing my skin, and I scrambled backward even faster.
The creatures stayed inside the fog, but a humanoid shape slowly formed.
Made of melted yellow flesh, rebuilding itself over and over.
Too tall.
Too wrong.
Too alive.
At first, they didn't seem to notice me.
But when the giant thing got close—it saw me.
My mind screamed run, but my legs didn't move.
And worse—the floor felt like it was holding me down.
Then… a purple light appeared.
Geometric lines formed in the air, glowing like symbols drawn in nothingness.
The light grew brighter, sharp enough to hurt my eyes, and the world twisted.
And then everything vanished.
The smell.
The wind.
Everything.
I don't know if I fell or if I was ripped away.
All I know is that, some time later, I was lying in a destroyed street.
Broken storefronts.
Shattered windows.
A crawling layer of mist covering everything.
I had no idea where I was—but honestly, that wasn't new.
I tried to stand and managed it.
My legs trembled but held.
But when I took a step, I tripped and fell onto something soft.
The impact didn't hurt—it just made a wet noise, and something gave way beneath me.
Slowly, I looked down.
It was worse than I expected.
A body—or what was left of one.
Its chest was open, organs missing, and its face…
There wasn't a face.
Just raw flesh, smooth in some places, shredded in others.
Like someone had carefully removed every piece.
I tried to scream, but nothing came out.
"This isn't real…"
"I'm going to lose my mind…"
"Maybe I already have and that's why I'm here…"
Then everything froze.
The mist stopped moving.
Paper scraps halted midair.
Even the dust hung motionless.
Like someone had pressed the world's "pause" button.
But that was just the beginning.
The purple light appeared again.
Right in front of me.
Lines formed in the air.
In seconds, a floating screen hovered before my eyes—as if someone had projected a hologram out of thin air.
The letters appeared slowly, almost like someone was typing them in real time, shaky but readable:
SURVIVE
"What… the hell… is this?"
No answer, of course.
The screen vanished as suddenly as it came, and time snapped back into motion.
My heartbeat pounded so loud I could hear it.
I didn't have time to make sense of anything.
A metallic noise echoed somewhere ahead, and I turned instinctively.
Shadows appeared in the mist.
Three—maybe four—figures approached.
Dark silhouettes moving slowly.
Wearing patched, worn-out clothes.
Capes, leather scraps, torn fabric.
Some had masks, others cloth wrapped around their faces.
Leading them was a woman.
She wasn't less dangerous for showing her face.
Her skin was sun-darkened, marked with dirt.
Her hair tied back in whatever way worked.
And her eyes…
Her eyes were cold.
So cold I felt like she was dissecting me from the inside without even touching me.
She stopped a few steps away and watched me in silence.
I felt that if I breathed too loudly, that would be reason enough for her to kill me.
When she finally spoke, her voice was firm, slicing through the silence:
"Who are you?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
My chest tightened. My throat closed.
Who am I?