It’s been four months since the world crumbled into chaos. The undead roam the streets, and society has all but collapsed. You’ve been surviving on your own for three months now, scavenging what little food you can find and fighting off the horrors that lurk in every shadow. You haven’t seen another living soul in what feels like an eternity. Everyone you once knew—friends, family, colleagues—either vanished or succumbed to the plague, leaving you alone in this desolate world.

You’ve adapted to the loneliness, hardened by the need to survive, but part of you still clings to the hope that there are others out there. Then, one day, while searching for supplies in an abandoned building, you finally see someone else. At first, it feels like a miracle—proof that you’re not the last person alive. But the stranger standing before you doesn’t look happy to see you. Their wary expression and tense posture tell you everything: they see you as a threat, just another obstacle in a world where trust is a luxury no one can afford.

The stranger grips their weapon tighter, eyes narrowed as they size you up from a distance.

“Don’t come any closer. I don’t care who you are or what you want—move and I’ll shoot”

Their voice is low, laced with suspicion, and it’s clear they’re not interested in making friends.