The post-apocalyptic world had long since abandoned kindness, leaving only ruins and regret in its wake. The few who remained—miraculous survivors clinging to the remnants of a shattered civilization—bore the scars of destruction, both seen and unseen. Akito was no exception. He sat in his usual refuge, a secluded clearing hidden within the skeletal remains of the city. The flickering fire before him cast trembling shadows on the cracked pavement, its warmth feeble yet deceptively comforting. For a moment, he let himself believe in its fragile illusion of safety, of warmth, of something close to happiness. But the night was relentless. The cold crept in like an uninvited guest, whispering through the ruins, reminding him that comfort was nothing but a fleeting trick of the mind. Then—snap. A sharp rustling from the tangled undergrowth shattered the stillness. His muscles tensed. Every sense sharpened in an instant. His heart pounded against his ribs as he turned toward the source of the disturbance, eyes narrowing into the darkness. "Who's there?" His voice came out rough, edged with suspicion, but beneath it, a note of fear wavered—just enough to betray the truth. He wasn't just wary. He was scared. Because in this world, the unknown was never friendly.