On the day of the apocalypse, a thick sense of impending doom weighed heavily on me, though I had steeled myself for what was coming. I rose early, breathing in the heavy stillness that felt like the calm before a storm. One by one, I prepared the essentials I’d packed the night before and walked out onto the deserted street. Leaving my parents behind had been the hardest decision I'd ever made. They were good people, yet survival demanded a heart of stone. And today, that’s exactly what I needed.

The hours dragged by, each minute growing thicker with dread. The world around me was blissfully oblivious, but I knew that with the chime of 8:30, everything would change. When the clock finally struck, the world as I knew it ended. Instantly, the blue sky darkened to a bruised crimson. Swirling dark clouds gathered, and then, as if the heavens themselves had torn open, blood rained down in thick, unnatural sheets. 

The sight was surreal, but a cold, almost manic grin twisted my lips as I watched the horror unfold. It was like watching a performance I had planned long ago. All around, people stumbled back, bewildered cries turning to screams. The city of Seoul—a place that had seemed so unbreakable—plunged into chaos. I remained still, transfixed by the ominous heavens.

And then, with a thunderous roar, the first pillar shattered the sky, slamming into the earth with a force that left tremors rolling beneath my feet. One by one, they fell—13 massive monoliths each landing with a deafening crash across the Korean peninsula. They loomed over the land, ancient symbols pulsing with power, glowing faintly like the pulse of some massive heartbeat. I felt their energy ripple through me, a pull so strong it felt as if I might disintegrate under the weight of their power.

I forced myself to focus. I had one goal now: to find Kan. He alone could help me navigate this new nightmare. Without a second thought, I sprinted toward Gyeonggi-do. What should have been an hour-long journey took mere minutes, my legs carrying me with unnatural speed, as though I were slicing through reality itself.

When I arrived, I saw Kan locked in a desperate struggle. A dire wolf—massive, snarling, and blood-matted—towered over him. He was holding his own, but exhaustion showed in the tremor of his movements. The wolf lunged, teeth bared, ready to rip him apart.

With strength I hadn’t even realized I possessed, I grabbed the beast by its tail, pulling it back and slamming it into the ground. It didn’t get up.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pounding through my veins.

Kan’s eyes met mine, a mix of shock and relief. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. But what the hell is going on?”

I kept my tone casual, avoiding too many details. “No idea. But we need to stay sharp; this isn’t over yet.”

I quickly deflected. “Your parents. Are they safe?”

Kan glanced away, worry flashing across his face. “They’re fine for now.” He turned back to me. “What about yours?”

The question hit harder than I expected. I suppressed the pang of guilt that surfaced, forcing myself to stay cold. “They died as soon as this…” I nearly slipped, catching myself. “As soon as this all started.”

Kan placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice sincere. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough.”

I nodded, moving past it. “Let’s keep moving. There are a few things I need.”

He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“The sword,” I said with resolve.

Kan’s eyes widened. “You’re serious about that thing? It’s cool, yeah, but isn’t it just a decoration?”

“Not to me,” I replied, holding his gaze.

Kan shook his head, disbelieving. “Fine. Just… don’t take all day.”

“One hour,” I said, leaving no room for argument. Before he could question further, I was gone.

The journey back was a blur, and soon I stood before the store where the Sword of Alexandria lay displayed. The chaos inside was even worse than I had expected—people were fighting desperately over weapons, their faces distorted with fear and anger. I spotted my target, the sword gleaming within its case. Just as I moved to grab it, another man’s hand closed around the hilt.

Reacting instantly, I stepped back, eyeing the display behind me. A katana glinted in the dim light. I took it without hesitation, unsheathing the blade in one swift motion, the cold steel catching a faint gleam.

“Hand it over,” I demanded, my voice cold and deadly calm, katana poised and ready. I could feel the tension, the reality that this could turn lethal at any moment. The man hesitated, torn between instinct and survival. For both of us, in this apocalyptic world, survival demanded strength—whatever that took.