The world was perfect.
The sun hung lazily in the sky, neither too harsh nor too dull. The wind carried the faint scent of fresh earth, rustling the trees just enough to whisper. People went about their day as usual—children laughing, couples bickering over dinner plans, businessmen grumbling about traffic. It was just another normal day.
Until the sky cracked.
At first, no one noticed. A thin, almost invisible fracture appeared high above, like a single scratch on a pristine mirror. But within seconds, it spread—splitting and splintering like glass under pressure. Then came the veins.
Thick, pulsating tendrils of red mist slithered from the cracks, stretching downward like grotesque roots searching for soil. The mist pulsed rhythmically, beating like a living heart. And then, as if answering some silent command, it struck the earth.
Boom.
The impact shook the ground. People turned, confused, searching for the source.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
More tendrils slammed down, embedding themselves deep into the earth, pumping something unseen into the soil. A sinister glow spread from the points of impact, casting a crimson hue over streets and buildings.
That's when the alarms blared.
Radios. Phones. TVs. Car speakers. Any device capable of transmitting sound crackled to life with an urgent warning.
"This is not a drill. All citizens are advised to seek underground shelter immediately. Repeat—this is not a drill."
In homes, in cars, in offices—people froze. This wasn't just an isolated event. The reports were global. The cracks, the mist, the tremors—it was happening everywhere.
Then, all at once, the world went silent.
The ground stopped shaking. The alarms cut off. The mist seemed to still, as if waiting.
For one, sickening moment, humanity dared to hope that whatever this was, it had stopped.
Then hell broke loose.
The earth roared.
Skyscrapers crumbled like sandcastles, their steel frames snapping like brittle twigs. Streets split open, swallowing cars and people alike. Flames erupted across cities, licking at the sky like hungry tongues.
And then came the screams.
It started small—a few terrified shrieks here and there—before swelling into an all-consuming chorus of agony. But the screams weren't just from fear. They were from pain.
Across the world, people dropped to their knees, their bodies convulsing violently. Some clawed at their throats, others dug their nails into their own skin as if something inside was tearing them apart.
And then, they exploded.
Flesh and bone burst like overripe fruit, painting the streets in a grotesque display of gore. Organs splattered against walls. Blood pooled in rivers.
Not one.
Not ten.
Not a hundred.
Thousands.
Everywhere.
Mothers. Fathers. Children. Gone in an instant—ripped apart by an unseen force, leaving only piles of steaming viscera in their wake.
The world descended into madness.
Animals mutated before people's eyes—house cats grew fangs like sabers, birds expanded into monstrous forms, their eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. Trees, once motionless, moved. Their branches snaked toward people, dragging them screaming into the depths of the forests.
And amidst the carnage, the voice of authority still tried to regain control.
"Remain calm. Seek shelter. Do not engage with—"
Static.
A screech of feedback.
And then, the only thing left was the sound of people dying.
_____
Howard University, Washington D.C.
The world was ending, but that wasn't exactly news anymore.
Gigantic monstrosities chased down students like a violent game of tag, their guttural roars echoing through the once-prestigious campus. Things that used to be harmless—squirrels, pigeons, even the damn campus plants—had become grotesque nightmares straight out of a horror movie.
And in the midst of the chaos, inside the medical faculty, a lone student was still asleep.
Azricel lay sprawled out across a desk, white headphones snug over his ears, blissfully unaware of the pure, unfiltered carnage happening all around him. Students trampled over each other, screaming and crying, running for their lives. Some tried barricading doors. Others just gave up entirely.
Yet, none of it was enough to wake him.
A girl in scrubs tripped over his desk, knocking over a stack of textbooks.
"MOVE! MOVE! IT'S RIGHT BEHIND ME!" she shrieked, scrambling to her feet.
A second later, the double doors flew open, and a massive, white-eyed lab rat the size of a damn golden retriever lunged inside.
Azricel shifted slightly but remained asleep.
The rat locked onto a poor guy frozen in terror near the door. The guy—Azricel's classmate, if he remembered correctly—let out a panicked "No, please! I—I have loans! I can't die yet! Please, PLEASE—!"
Chomp.
The rat bit down, dragging him out the door as his screams faded into the hallway.
Silence.
Then, finally, Azricel woke up.
He blinked, blue eyes sluggishly adjusting to the blinding lights above him. His brows furrowed, his handsome, annoyed face coming into view.
Slowly, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulled off his headphones, and immediately, the full-force of the chaos hit him. Screams, crashes, unholy roars.
Azricel let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"I swear to God, if this is about that stupid test—"
Then he saw it.
His gaze drifted lazily to the window. He stood, stretched, and made his way over, peering outside.
It took him a moment to really process what he was looking at.
The campus had been bad yesterday, sure. But today?
Today was something else entirely.
A Venus flytrap was walking.
No, not just walking—it had legs. Thick, vine-like roots had burst through the pot's bottom, bending unnaturally to mimic human limbs. Two other vines stretched forward like arms, and its massive, gaping maw—lined with razor-sharp thorns—hung open in a grin.
Azricel's gaze followed its movement as it snatched up a girl in scrubs, dangling her upside down.
"HELP! HELP ME! OH GOD, PLEASE—!"
Crunch.
Blood splattered against the windows.
Azricel blinked once.
Then twice.
He exhaled through his nose, muttering, "Well… that's new."
And just when he thought things couldn't get any weirder—
A black cat materialized out of thin air.
Azricel's brows shot up.
"Salem?"
Salem was a stray he used to feed on his way back to the dorms. Cute little bastard. But this Salem?
This Salem was not normal.
Its sleek black fur flickered like static, its form phasing in and out of existence as if the world itself couldn't decide whether or not it should exist.
Then, it grew.
Not gradually—instantly. One second, it was cat-sized. The next, it was gargantuan. Its golden eyes gleamed as it pounced onto the monstrous Venus flytrap, swallowing it whole.
Silence.
Then—
Hack. Hack.
Salem coughed up a tangle of vines and what looked suspiciously like a human femur.
Azricel took a slow, deep breath.
Then—"Wow."
That was all he could say.
Because what else was there to say?
The world was literally falling apart, his classmates were getting eaten by mutated lab rats, plants had legs, and his stray cat just casually consumed an entire monstrosity.
What was he supposed to do? Scream? Cry?
No thanks.
He simply scratched the back of his head, mildly annoyed at being woken up for this.
And then—
PAIN.
A sharp, searing agony exploded through his skull, blinding him. Azricel let out a low hiss, gripping his temples as he staggered forward. It felt like something was clawing its way into his very being.
His vision darkened. His breathing turned ragged.
Then—
"… Awakening Anomaly."
A voice.
Cold. Robotic. Echoing inside his head like a goddamn fever dream.
"Welcome."
Azricel stilled.
Azricel didn't even get a second to acknowledge the weird robotic voice in his head when an all-too-familiar bloodthirsty screech tore through the ruined classroom.
His gaze flicked to the doorway, and—yep. It was back.
The lab rat.
Only now it was triple its previous size, golden retriever big, with muscles that should not exist on a rodent. Its fur was patchy and uneven, its red eyes glowing with a hunger that felt personal, and its disgusting mouth dripped with fresh human blood.
"…This is harassment." Azricel muttered, scrubbing a tired hand down his face.
The rat twitched, crouching low, its powerful hind legs tensing like a coiled spring.
"Ah. No." Azricel immediately vetoed that idea, shaking his head as he took one step back.
The rat leaped.
Azricel turned on his heel and noped out.
There was no strategy, no fancy footwork—just raw survival instincts as he launched himself out the window. He hit the grass with a grunt, rolling to his feet in record time. His legs were already moving before his brain fully caught up.
Sprint to the dorm. Lock the door. Forget the world is ending. Easy.
Except—
"Mrrp?"
Azricel's entire soul left his body.
He whipped around mid-run, horrified to see Salem, his supposedly harmless stray cat, blinking at him from the ruined classroom. The same cat that had just swallowed a man-eating plant whole and spat out its hairball.
Salem's small, triangular ears perked up excitedly when he spotted Azricel running.
Azricel's heart dropped.
"No," he warned. "No, no, no, don't—"
Salem blinked.
And appeared right beside him.
"Oh hell no!" Azricel screeched, nearly tripping over his own feet as he veered left to avoid the tiny menace. "Stay the hell away from me, demon!"
Salem chirped, sounding far too happy for a cat that just ate something three times its size. His big, glowing green eyes locked onto Azricel as his tiny paws pattered after him like this was some fun little game.
Azricel, who had just witnessed this adorable menace commit plant murder, panicked.
"STOP FOLLOWING ME!"
He twisted, ready to outrun the damn feline.
But before he could even process what was happening, Salem blinked again.
And reappeared on his shoulder.
Azricel shrieked.
It was not dignified.
"GET OFF!"
Salem dug his tiny claws into Azricel's scrub, his fluffy tail wrapping smugly around the back of his neck.
Azricel, horrified beyond belief, did the only rational thing.
He grabbed the little bastard and yeeted him into the bushes.
Salem let out a surprised "Mrrp!" before vanishing mid-air, only to reappear—
Right back on Azricel's shoulder.
Azricel almost cried.
"OH COME ON!"
The universe had to be playing with him. There was no way this was real.
But Salem, snug as ever, just kneaded his little paws into Azricel's shoulder, purring like he didn't just break all laws of physics.
Azricel took a shaky breath.
"Okay. Okay, you know what? Fine." He exhaled sharply. "You can stay. Just don't eat me."
Salem licked his paw.
Azricel had no idea if that was a yes or a "Try me, mortal."
But he didn't have time to think about it.
Because a blood-curdling shriek erupted behind him.
Azricel whipped his head around, only to see—
The giant rat.
And now?
There were two of them.
"Oh, fuck this," Azricel muttered, turning and booking it.
Salem purred louder, unbothered as he clung to his new mode of transportation.
Azricel, sprinting for his goddamn life, had one thought:
I should've stayed asleep.