10 AM XXXX City 2079
Arix Crow woke abruptly, his breath catching in his throat as a cold, familiar sensation rippled through his mind.
It wasn't a sound.
It wasn't a vibration.
It was a presence—sharp, invasive, impossible to ignore.
A translucent pulse echoed behind his eyes, carrying words that did not belong to any spoken language, yet were instantly understood.
⟪ Rose is Live ⟫
Arix stared at the cracked ceiling above him, fully awake now. His heart had already begun to race, as if his body had learned to respond faster than his thoughts.
He had been waiting for this.
He waited for it every single day.
With a simple thought, he accepted the notification.
The air above his chest shimmered. Light bent unnaturally, folding inward until a semi-transparent screen unfolded in front of him. The holographic display stabilized, floating silently, its edges glowing faintly blue.
The world outside that screen ceased to exist.
On the display stood a woman amid ruins.
She wore a pale pink combat dress, the fabric tailored for movement, torn in places but strangely clean where blood should have soaked through. Her long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, swaying slightly as she shifted her stance.
In her hand rested a long silver sword, its blade catching the sunlight pouring through the shattered roof above her.
She stood inside an abandoned building.
Concrete pillars jutted out at broken angles, and dust floated through the air like suspended ash. Sunlight streamed in through collapsed sections of the roof, bathing the scene in an almost cinematic glow.
Behind her stood two men.
Their group was known across Earth.
And far beyond it.
THE HUNTERS.
Arix exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the floating screen.
Three years ago, the world had ended.
No one said it like that anymore.
Governments preferred softer words—collapse, global incident, apocalyptic event.
Survivors avoided the topic altogether. Even the streamers, who made fortunes broadcasting death, dressed it up with jokes and flashy titles.
But Arix knew the truth.
Civilization hadn't collapsed.
It had been replaced.
Three years ago, an otherworldly virus descended upon Earth.
It didn't kill people outright.
It hollowed them.
The infected still walked. Still breathed. Still screamed. But whatever made them human was gone. Their bodies decayed while moving, flesh rotting from bone, eyes clouded with endless hunger. Pain no longer slowed them. Fear no longer existed.
Zombies.
The same day the virus appeared, five towers descended from the sky on five different places of earth.
Pure white. Smooth as porcelain. No doors. No windows.
They appeared without warning, slamming into the planet like divine judgments. Each tower was so tall that its peak disappeared into the clouds. Satellites failed to map them. Missiles failed to scratch them. Humanity threw everything it had at those structures—and achieved nothing.
Then the virus spread.
Cities fell in weeks.
Countries collapsed in months.
When more than half the world's population had turned into walking corpses, one of the towers finally opened.
Not with ancient magic.
Not with divine light.
But with technology so advanced it felt unreal.
On-screen, the woman smiled brightly and waved at the camera.
{Hi, my sweeties~}
Her voice was light, playful, intimate—as if she were greeting close friends rather than millions of unseen spectators. Her eyes met the camera directly, locking onto it with practiced precision.
For a brief, unsettling moment, Arix felt as though she was looking straight at him.
The System screen pulsed softly.
People Watching: 20.7K
The tower that opened wasn't mystical.
It was futuristic.
Moving staircases adjusted themselves automatically. Floors rearranged at will.
Holographic attendants guided visitors with flawless politeness. Entire sections of the tower shifted and transformed based on demand.
Inside, humanity received what would become both its salvation and its curse.
A System.
But it wasn't like the ones Arix had read about in novels.
This System didn't care how strong you were.
It cared how many people were watching.
Rank wasn't decided by combat power or intelligence, but by popularity. By views, donations, engagement. And the audience wasn't limited to Earth.
The multiverse was watching.
Aliens. Higher beings. Civilizations older than humanity itself.
Earth had become entertainment.
At first, people rejected it. They screamed about dignity, freedom, refusing to become a spectacle.
Then they saw the rewards.
Points.
Points bought everything.
Safe zones. Clean water. Weapons. Private armies. Genetic enhancement. Beauty modifications. Luxury beyond imagination.
Even immortality—if you could afford it.
People who streamed killing zombies became rich overnight.
Heroes were replaced by celebrities.
{So today,} the woman said, spinning her sword casually, {we're in Hong Kong City. Just here to clean some dirt.}
She smiled and posed naturally for the camera.
The viewer count surged.
The System ran on gifts. Likes. Donations. Points were the only currency that mattered, and the towers were the marketplace.
From luxury penthouses to military tanks.
From gourmet meals to potions that could rewrite DNA.
The towers were genies.
Cold, indifferent ones.
Arix stood and walked toward his cramped bathroom. The holographic screen adjusted automatically, floating beside him at a comfortable angle.
He squeezed out the last bit of toothpaste onto his brush and poured half a glass of water from one of the sealed bottles in his fridge—clean water, filtered and rationed carefully.
He brushed his teeth while watching the live.
On-screen, Alina vanished.
She reappeared in a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow. Three zombies burst through a doorway behind her.
They didn't even have time to scream.
Her sword flashed.
Heads rolled across the concrete floor.
She turned toward the camera with a smile, lifting three dripping hearts in her hands.
{Look~ fresh zombie hearts.}
Arix gagged violently, nearly choking. He spat into the sink and coughed, gripping the edge of the basin.
"God…" he muttered. "I still can't get used to this."
The sound attracted more zombies. Crawling. Dragging. Dozens emerged from different floors, limbs scraping against broken concrete.
Alina clapped her bloodied hands together cheerfully. {I know, I know. You guys must be bored of the usual stuff.}
Arix glanced at the viewer count.
45K.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "Views are dropping."
But it didn't really matter. Plenty of people watched her just for her face.
He returned to his room, which barely fit a single bed and a chair, and pulled on clean clothes. As he dressed, his gaze drifted toward the window.
One of the unopened towers loomed in the distance, its white surface untouched by decay or time.
"There are still four towers that haven't opened," Arix murmured quietly. "No one knows what's inside."
He exhaled. "Guess it doesn't matter anymore."
The world had been divided into ten safe zones.
Not by geography.
By wealth.
Arix lived in the Tenth Zone.
The last.
The forgotten.
As Alina continued slaughtering zombies with practiced ease and exaggerated smiles, Arix felt his interest fade. The blood, the cheers, the forced excitement—it all felt distant.
With a brief thought, he dismissed the stream.
The holographic screen dissolved into particles of light and vanished, leaving the room unnervingly quiet.
No cheering.
No System commentary.
Just reality.
Arix wheeled his bicycle out of the apartment building and stepped into the ruined street.
Cold air brushed against his face as he mounted the bike and began riding.
This was his world.
No filters.
No audience.
No rewards for survival.
He pedaled cautiously, eyes scanning every shadow. He stayed here because he refused to become a slave to the stream.
His rule was simple.
If he didn't need to kill, he wouldn't.
He reached an abandoned supermarket and parked his bike outside. Inside, shelves blocked his vision. He moved carefully toward the storage area.
There was still canned food.
Expired, but edible.
Water was the real problem.
Most sources were contaminated by corpses.
He loaded a cart slowly, checking labels.
"Expired," he muttered. "But it won't kill me."
Then he heard it.
A dragging sound.
Wet. Uneven.
His body froze.
Something was inside.
Arix's breathing slowed as his eyes sharpened. Shelves blocked his sight, but the sound was unmistakable—limping, searching.
"That's not possible," he whispered. "This zone is guarded."
Then his System chimed faintly in his mind.
⟪ Incoming Threat Detected ⟫
His gaze snapped toward the exit—and his bike.
If I don't make noise…
⟪ Warning ⟫
Too late.
Too late.
Zombies flooded in.
An army.
The realization struck him like a blade.
The military abandoned us.
They had no reason to protect the poor.
Arix grabbed a metal rod, hands trembling.
"How can they just leave us like this to die?"
The zombies charged.
He struck one down. It fell—and stood again.
Behind him stood a woman holding a child.
Her shoulder was bitten.
When she saw Arix, she smiled weakly and placed her daughter on the ground.
"Please," she whispered.
Too late.
A grin appered on his lips twisted "Fucking hell"
He lifted the girl onto the back seat. "Hold tight. We're getting out."
She screamed for her mother, her small hands gripping the back of his shirt with desperate strength. Her cries cut through the chaos like a blade, raw and terrified, and Arix felt his chest tighten with every sob.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
If he did, he knew he would stop—and stopping meant dying.
The city died loudly.
Arix pedaled hard, chain rattling, the girl shaking against his back. Screams cut through the air—raw, animal, everywhere.
A man stumbled out of an alley, clutching his stomach. Blood poured through his fingers.
He saw Arix, reached out—
A hand burst from the shadows and dragged him back.
His scream ended with a wet crunch.
Gunfire erupted ahead.
A barricade collapsed.
Soldier fired into the crowd.
At people.
Arix breath hitched "Fucking animals."
A woman fell with her hands raised. A boy tripped over her body and vanished under a wave of teeth. Someone shoved past Arix, screaming, and was immediately tackled to the ground.
Arix snapped screamed "HOW CAN YOU DO THAT" It was towards the solders. The very people who were appointed to save them, shoved them inside the hell.
The girl cried for her mother again.
Arix didn't answer.
A shop door slammed shut as people pounded from the outside. Glass shattered seconds later. Bodies spilled onto the street, already being torn apart.
Fire bloomed to the left. Smoke choked the sky. A burning woman ran three steps before collapsing. Zombies ignored the flames and tore into her screaming body.
Arix's legs burned.
His chest hurt.
This wasn't chaos.
It was abandonment.
No sirens.
No reinforcements.
Zone Ten wasn't being saved.
It was being erased.
Then the bridge came into view.
The bicycle rattled violently as he pushed it harder than he ever had before, his legs burning, lungs screaming for air. Broken concrete scraped beneath the tires as they burst out of the street and onto the bridge.
That was when he saw it.
A military tank stood ahead, massive and intact, its dark metal body blocking part of the road. The sight hit him like a miracle.
Hope surged so suddenly it almost hurt.
"HEY!" Arix shouted, his voice cracking as he waved one arm wildly. "WE'RE HERE! THERE'S A CHILD HERE!"
The girl on the back seat echoed his desperation, crying louder as if the tank itself could hear her fear.
For a moment—just a moment—the tank didn't move.
The engine idled.
Arix's heart pounded violently in his chest.
Then the hatch creaked open slightly.
A man looked out.
Their eyes met.
Arix felt relief flood his body so fast his knees nearly gave out. He laughed breathlessly, tears blurring his vision. "Please—there's a child—there are still people—"
The hatch slammed shut.
The engine roared.
The tank rolled forward, its heavy tracks grinding against the asphalt as it passed him without slowing, without turning, without hesitation.
It didn't stop.
It didn't look back.
The sound of its retreating engine was louder than the girl's cries.
Arix stood frozen in the middle of the bridge, the weight of understanding crashing down on him.
The bridge trembled.
He turned slowly.
Zombies were pouring onto the bridge from both ends, their bodies broken and twisted, mouths open in endless hunger. Dozens. Then hundreds. A wall of decaying flesh closing in with horrifying patience.
Behind him, the girl clutched his jacket, her face buried against his back as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"I want my mommy," she cried. "Please… I want my mommy…"
Arix swallowed hard, his vision shaking.
Then the air above them thundered.
Wind blasted downward as a helicopter descended, its blades slicing through the smoke-filled sky. A rope dropped suddenly, swaying violently in the air.
A man leaned out from the open side door, shouting through a speaker.
"ONLY ONE!" he yelled. "WE CAN TAKE ONLY ONE! MOVE FAST!"
Arix's heart slammed against his ribs.
Only one.
His mind screamed in protest, searching desperately for another answer—any answer—but there was none. The zombies were too close now. Their stench filled the air. Their fingers scraped against the bridge railing.
The girl looked up at him, her eyes swollen with tears, her face streaked with dirt and blood.
She shook her head wildly. "Don't leave me! Please!"
Arix knelt quickly, his hands trembling as he looped the rope around her small body. His fingers fumbled, slipping again and again as panic clawed at his chest.
"It's okay," he lied softly, forcing his voice to stay steady. "You're going somewhere safe."
She grabbed his wrist with all her strength.
"Come with me!"
His throat burned.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words tearing through him. "I'm so sorry."
He pried her fingers loose.
The rope tightened.
The helicopter lifted her upward.
She screamed until the wind swallowed her voice.
The helicopter rose, pulling away, shrinking into the sky as if nothing had happened.
Arix stood alone.
The zombies reached him seconds later.
Hands grabbed his arms. Teeth sank into his shoulder. He fought a useless fight before Pain exploded through his body, white-hot and blinding. He screamed, striking wildly, but there were too many.
From Far the soldiers watched with calm eyes.
Those creatures dragged him down.
The world dissolved into agony, suffocation, and darkness.
When consciousness returned, it did so slowly.
Arix sucked in a ragged breath, choking on the stench of rot. His body felt heavy, numb, as if it no longer belonged to him.
He lay on something soft.
Too soft.
His fingers twitched, brushing against slick, uneven surfaces.
He forced his eyes open.
Corpses.
He was lying atop a mound of decaying bodies in a massive dumpyard, the air thick with death. The city skyline loomed far away, distant and silent.
"I'm… alive?" he whispered hoarsely.
His hands shook as he touched his chest, his arms, his legs. No missing limbs. No exposed bone. No fatal wounds.
Then he saw his left arm.
It was black from shoulder to fingertips, veins glowing faintly beneath the skin. A deep purple light pulsed from within, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
The muscles shifted unnaturally, swelling, tightening. His fingers elongated as sharp, crystalline claws formed where nails should have been, glowing with an eerie violet sheen.
Arix staggered back, staring in disbelief, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"What… what did they do to me?"
A single thought rose in his mind, cold and undeniable.
"… did I went through...Genetic mutation."