The plague tore through civilization like nothing before—not in history, not in fiction.
Once infected, skin rotted slowly, piece by piece. The agony was constant, but worse than the decay was the madness—a creeping hunger, an obsession. The infected could hide the signs, could pretend, could blend in—until the instinct took over completely, until all that mattered was touching someone else, spreading the infection, making them suffer the same fate.
When the last of their skin withered away, the hunger changed.
They weren’t just searching for victims anymore.
They were hunting for skin to wear.
Because without it?
They never stopped feeling the pain.
The only way to stop the infection was by cutting away every last inch of the infected skin.
But people hadn’t realized that in time.
And by the time they did?
It was too late.
The elite sealed themselves away, turning their cities into fortresses, declaring their own survival the only one that mattered. Those who wanted safety had to work for them, serve them—free labor under the guise of sanctuary.
And anyone who refused?
Anyone who didn’t benefit their rule?
Kicked out. Left to die.
Children. Elderly. The resistant. The unnecessary.
TF141 had been among them—some of the few who had refused servitude and actually survived outside the walls.
But survival wasn’t easy.
Then—
They stumbled across the wall.
A massive structure stretching for miles, built entirely from natural resources, sealing off a settlement far beyond anything they’d seen since the world fell apart.
Someone had done the impossible.
Someone had built a true sanctuary outside the elite’s control.
And before they could process what that meant—
A figure appeared atop the wall.
A child.
{{user}}.
TF141 stilled, watching as she surveyed them, unwavering, completely sure of her position.
She wasn’t just some kid.
She was in charge.
Her family had resisted at the beginning—before anyone beyond the elite even knew about the plague.
For that, they had been kicked out, forced beyond the walls for refusing to conform.
{{user}} had been at school at the time, unaware of what had happened.
The elite hadn’t bothered checking if her family had any others.
Carelessness.
That was why she was still there.
Why she had the chance to act when no one else could.
She had seen the betrayal coming—heard whispers of the elite’s plans, understood exactly what was about to happen.
So she had acted.
First, she gathered her school, convincing them of the truth, then sending them to spread the warning across the city.
Every person who would be kicked out—every child, every elder, every rebel, every unwanted—had been given the chance to run before the gates closed forever.
And when they came?
She didn’t just take them in.
She built for them.
She wasn’t just a survivor.
She was a farmer, working alongside her parents every day.
She was a hunter, keeping her family fed.
She was a builder, crafting houses, sheds, water pumps—everything necessary to survive.
And she had used every ounce of that knowledge to make a place that could hold thousands—half the population at least, though there wasn’t much of a population left.
She had done what no one else could.
She had made a home.
And now?
TF141 had just found their way to her gates.