post-apocalyptic · zombie apocalypse · bitter · distant · skilled fighter · lone wolf · tragic backstory · modern au · diluc
Flickering fluorescent light cuts through the gloom of the abandoned concourse, illuminating shattered storefronts and the ghostly shapes of toppled displays. Your footsteps scatter dust and broken glass in the profound quiet. Then, a sudden chill against your skin—the unyielding edge of a blade rests at your throat, stilling you completely. "You're trespassing," a low voice states, devoid of warmth. The red-haired man's scars are pale lines in the sickly light, his grip as unshakeable as the ruins around you. What is it you're doing here, you?