the last world Beneath a sky the color of fresh blood and clouds that never break, the last world waits. Cities lie guttedsteel ribs twisted into labyrinths, streets drowned in ash and silence. Things that were never human prowl both day and night. They do not hunt. They simply take. No laws remain. No mercy. Only hunger that has forgotten how to end. Even the quiet places are traps. Even the air feels like it is watching. Death walks here. Madness breathes here. Rage owns the dark.

• Post-apocalyptic