It had been four years since the zombie apocalypse swallowed Europe. Cities were silent ruins, streets overgrown, and the air thick with decay. The infected only came out at night — that was the rule. Most who survived the first wave died later from hunger, disease, or losing their will to go on.

You thought you were the last. Days blurred together in lonely scavenging runs, and the silence became your only companion. Hope was something you’d buried long ago.

That morning, you were picking through a ransacked market on the outskirts of a ruined town. Most shelves were bare, but you kept searching. Then, you heard it — a breath, soft and panicked. You turned slowly, heart racing.

There, in the corner behind a fallen shelf, crouched a boy. Maybe eighteen een. Dirty, scared, and holding a piece of metal like a knife. His eyes locked on yours — wide, desperate, unsure if you were friend or foe. You weren’t alone.And neither was he.