The world 'Earth' fell nineteen years ago.
Apocalypse came. Not your typical slow-shuffling types. These were fast, smart, some even mutated into grotesque versions with monstrous appendages and abilities. Humanity's last hope was building underground cities and fortified shadowed bases.
Then in 15 years, Black Dawn came—the day the sun stopped being humanity's ally. On that day, a strange solar flare erupted, mutating light into something lethal. Anything exposed to direct sunlight turned to ash. Civilization fell in a week.
That worked for a while. Until it didn't.
Now, two teenagers—Hiroshi and Owen—were the only survivors of Base Delta, one of the last functioning safe zones in the region.
Smoke curled into the sky from the ruins behind them. The scent of burnt flesh and gunpowder choked the air. A horde of zombies had breached the walls while they were away on a supply mission. By the time they returned, it was too late.
Hiroshi stood still amid the chaos, eyes wide as he took in the destruction. Fires licked the broken buildings. Distant screams faded one by one.
"Is this seriously the end of the world...?" he muttered. "Damn it. I haven't even had a proper first kiss yet. Life's so damn unfair."
"HIROSHI, MOVE!" Owen roared, slamming into him.
Hiroshi stumbled, nearly face-planting, as Owen's bat intercepted a zombie mid-leap. The bat cracked the monster's jaw with a sickening crunch.
"Yo! Chill!" Hiroshi snapped, regaining balance. "You almost dislocated my jaw, you bastard!"
"You were frozen! Looked like you were about to cry or write a poem!" Owen barked back, swinging his bat again as another zombie lunged.
"I was having a moment, okay? A dramatic one!" Hiroshi grunted, drawing his katana in one swift motion. The blade sliced clean through a zombie's neck. Blood sprayed the air like black mist.
"You're hopeless," Owen said, chuckling, even as he swung his bat again. "You're lucky we're best friends!"
Hiroshi rolled his eyes. "How romantic. Save that after we survive."
The two fought back-to-back, muscles aching, sweat dripping despite the cold wind. They moved like seasoned fighters—because they were. Raised in the apocalypse, combat was as natural to them as breathing.
Suddenly, a mutant screeched nearby, its grotesquely long tongue whipping through the air. Owen barely blocked it.
"Watch it!" he yelled.
Hiroshi didn't hesitate. He threw his katana like a spear, the blade spinning midair before embedding itself in the mutant's skull. The creature collapsed instantly.
"I got you, bro" Hiroshi said, already sprinting to retrieve his blade. He yanked it free, spun on his heel, and slashed through two more zombies that had crept up behind him.
Hours passed.
Now, they stood on a collapsed rooftop—just high enough to escape the immediate threat. Below them, Base Delta was nothing but scorched rubble and mangled bodies. No one had survived.
Hiroshi crouched at the edge, arms resting on his knees. His usually sharp brown eyes scanned the horizon, now painted in dying orange as the sun began to rise.
"We're too late," Owen muttered. He was seated with his elbows on his knees, hair messy from all the running. "No survivors. The base is gone."
"Dammit..." Hiroshi clenched his jaw. "It's that bastard's fault. If he hadn't sent us out... we could've stopped this."
Owen let out a hollow laugh. "Doesn't matter now. The sun's coming up. Without shelter, we're toast. Literally."
Hiroshi looked up. The golden sunlight had begun to peek over the buildings. Direct exposure meant death. Not right away—but slowly. Painfully. Like being cooked alive from the inside.
Strangely, he chuckled. A real, quiet laugh.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Owen frowned, glancing at him.
"I dunno," Hiroshi said, lowering himself to lie flat on the cracked rooftop. "Just feels ironic. Born in the apocalypse. Dying in it. Full circle."
"You're such a weirdo," Owen muttered but lay down beside him. "I didn't wanna die like this, you know? I wanted a family. A kid. Maybe a daughter with curly hair who'd call me 'Dad' with a lisp."
Hiroshi smirked. "You? Raising a kid? The hell would you even feed her? Canned beans and expired jerky?"
Owen shoved his shoulder playfully. "Hey, I'm sensitive, okay?"
They fell quiet again.
After a long pause, Owen murmured, "If our parents hadn't died, maybe things would've been different. That old hag wouldn't have taken over. Maybe we would've had a shot at a real life."
Hiroshi sighed. "You think I'm old or something? We're both nineteen. I had dreams too, dumbass."
Owen turned to him. "Like what?"
"Anything," Hiroshi replied softly. "Be a chef. Doctor. Even a teacher. Just… live. Make mistakes. Laugh. Fall in love. You know, normal shit."
Owen closed his eyes. "Yeah… I would've liked that."
Hiroshi reached into his shirt and pulled out a necklace. He flipped open the locket—a small, worn photo. A woman with warm brown eyes and a gentle smile stood in the center. On her left was a tall, grinning guy with a goofy peace sign. On the right, a blond man with sharp blue eyes scowled at the camera.
"You really do look like your mom," Owen said, staring at the woman in the photo.
"And you look just like your dad when you smile like that. Tch. Can't even see your damn eyes."
"Means I'm cute," Owen said with a grin.
"Sure, whatever helps you sleep."
Owen's smile faded. "How old were we when they died?"
"You seriously forgot?" Hiroshi arched an eyebrow.
"You know my memory's trash."
"We were five," Hiroshi said. "But I don't think it was an accident. I think they were killed."
"By that old hag?"
"Yeah," Hiroshi said quietly.
Owen sat up, scanning the area below. "Where's that bastard now?"
"Took the last chopper," Hiroshi said calmly.
"You let him go?!"
Hiroshi smirked. "Come on. You think I'd just let him leave?"
Owen's eyes widened. "...You did something, didn't you?"
Hiroshi nodded, his grin dark. "I tossed a half-dead zombie into the chopper. Bit the pilot. That bastard never even noticed."
Owen burst out laughing, even through his exhaustion. But then the light hit his foot, and he flinched.
"Shit. Sun's here."
They stood slowly, backing away from the rays inching toward them.
"Honestly?" Owen said. "We should've just gotten hit by a truck. Maybe we'd get isekai'd."
"You read too much manga, man."
"Hey! I still haven't finished That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime!" Owen gasped.
Hiroshi chuckled. "Tragic."
He turned serious, eyes locking with Owen's.
"If isekai exists... let's meet again."
Owen smiled—genuinely, this time. "Hell yeah. We'll be the protagonists."
Hiroshi offered his hand. "It's been an honor, Mr. Gardon. If there's a next life, you still owe me that ramen."
Owen took it, gripping tightly. "Next life, I'll bring the spicy broth."
The sunlight crawled closer. The remaining survivors, their bodies began to burn—slowly, cruelly. Skin blistered. Breath hitched. As the world melted away around them, they held on.
Until nothing remained but dust in the wind.