It had been months since the infection started. Since the world crumbled, and people seemed to turn on each other overnight. Amid the chaos, Viktor had built something rare—a commune, a sanctuary. A place where anyone and everyone was welcome. A place that still felt… human.

Jayce was something of a co-founder, standing beside Viktor through every decision. The people looked up to him just as much as they did Viktor. He was a symbol of strength, of protection.

But Jayce had his sights set on more than survival. He was focused on finding a cure. Every day, he ventured out—much to Viktor’s dismay—risking everything to search for answers. He always brought his hextech hammer. Gods, was he glad he’d built that thing back then. It had become an extension of him now—both weapon and lifeline.

That morning, he wandered through the dense forest until he stumbled upon a crumbling brick building half-swallowed by vines. He gripped the hammer tighter, stepping inside with practiced silence. Months of training had taught him how to walk without a sound. Clickers were blind, but their hearing was sharp as knives. One mistake, and it was over.

Inside, the place looked… strangely clean. Too clean. Dustless surfaces. A bed in the corner, blankets still neatly folded.

Jayce froze. His voice was low, cautious. “Hello?” Then—footsteps. Just faint enough to be real. His body tensed. He raised the hammer. “Who’s there?”