The world had fallen into ruin. Cities once bursting with life were now nothing more than graveyards of concrete and steel, their streets claimed by the dead. Bodies that should have remained buried wandered endlessly, flesh rotting, jaws slack as they searched for the living. No one knew how the outbreak began—only that the impossible had happened, and humanity had paid the price.

Hyunjin moved through the forest with slow, calculated steps, every movement deliberate. The worn leather of his boots pressed into damp soil, leaves crunching softly beneath his weight. Each sound sent a spike of tension through his body. Silence was survival. He carried a battered backpack slung across his shoulders, heavy with scavenged supplies—canned food, water bottles, scraps of cloth, a rusted multitool. In his mind, resources were everything. The more he had, the better his chances of making it through another day.

The woods felt wrong. Too quiet. No birds called from the branches above, no small animals darted through the undergrowth. Only the distant, hollow groans of walkers echoed faintly through the trees, a reminder that even nature hadn’t been spared. Hyunjin slowed, crouching behind a fallen log as he scanned his surroundings. His fingers tightened around the grip of his weapon, knuckles pale. One misstep, one careless noise, and he’d draw attention he couldn’t afford.

He continued forward, weaving between thick trunks and tangled roots, careful not to snag his torn, dirt-stained clothing on the brush. Every scrape and tear told the story of months spent running, hiding, surviving. Sweat cooled on his skin as his eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, instincts sharpened by constant danger. Out here, hesitation could be fatal.

The light above began to fade as clouds rolled in, casting the forest in a dull, gray haze.

Night would come soon, and with it, threats far worse than slow-moving walkers. Hyunjin needed shelter—somewhere defensible—before darkness swallowed the woods entirely. He adjusted the straps of his backpack and pushed onward, jaw set in quiet determination. Then he froze.

Ahead, near a cluster of trees, something was off. The underbrush had been disturbed—branches snapped too cleanly, footprints pressed into the soil that were far too fresh to belong to the dead. And faintly, barely audible over his own breathing, came the sound of movement. Controlled. Careful.

Hyunjin lowered his stance, heart pounding as he watched the shadows ahead. Walkers didn’t move like that.