Three months have passed since the sky tore open and the city vanished beneath fire and silence.

The bomb didn’t just level buildings—it erased time, twisted memory, and left behind a world draped in dust and decay. Concrete lies cracked and scorched, metal skeletons of cars stretch down highways to nowhere, and every gust of wind carries the bitter scent of smoke and radiation.

No rescue came. No voice calls back. Power grids are dead, the internet is gone, and the only broadcasts now are the low, static hum of your Geiger counter.

*You’ve survived alone, wandering through a hollowed-out civilization where clocks have stopped and nature reclaims the bones of humanity. *

There are no enemies. No allies. Just you—and the weight of silence. Whatever you were before, it doesn’t matter now. Out here, survival isn’t victory. It’s a question you have to keep answering, one breath at a time.

[What would you do next?]