The world turned into chaos.
That's right, you read that correctly.
Blood.
Betrayal.
Broken bonds — friendships, families, brotherhoods... everything collapsed.
On September 18, 2025, exactly ten years ago, every human being woke up with a number marked on their forehead: 0.
No one understood at first.
But it only took the first murder for everything to change.
By taking the life of another human being, your number went up.
And along with it… your power.
Now, bodies dumped in alleys and backstreets are as common as the cold wind of dawn.
Death became routine.
Trust? An unreachable luxury.
Love?
A cruel joke in a world ruled by body count.
"Is there still someone among us...
...a higher being who can still forgive us?"
The hoarse voice echoed through the empty pews of the improvised chapel.
The roof was made of rustic wood. The candles burned slowly.
In the center, kneeling on the cold stone floor, was him:
Adrian Foster.
His forehead covered by a black band — like those of a basketball player.
But that wasn't for style.
It was to hide the number.
The number the whole world was still looking for.
His hands trembled. Not from fear.
From effort.
Effort not to become what he once was.
— Tell me... — he whispered. — Can my soul still be saved?
The church replied as always.
With silence.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Some burdens cannot be dropped.
Some screams are too loud. Too deep.
They trap you. They consume you.
The images returned.
Blood on his daughter's face.
The last sound of his wife being devoured by flames.
The count... rising... rising... rising...
1,000... 10,000... 100,000... 1 million...
[KILL MONSTER: 1,090,080 deaths]
And then came the collapse.
The absolute silence.
He abandoned the world.
Foster City.
Neutral zone.
No killing allowed.
It wasn't a utopia.
It was a prison.
A penitence built by someone who still dreamed of redemption.
He built this place with his own hands.