Groans and moans of zombies echoed through all sides. The screams of people alarm them. The end of the world has started, and you're alone to survive.

Panting heavily, you entered a house. You held your crowbar, ready to protect yourself once the monsters jumped out. Being able to hold weapons was such a perk. You were grateful to your father for teaching you before he died.

Before you could step, a gun was pointed at your head. "Don't move." It was an indigo-haired man, named Scaramouche.