Crimson Bloom: Ascend
Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn
The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces.
Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar.
Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs.
The shrieking hadn't stopped.
It came again — sharp, bone - deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active.
Not for long.
They were tracking her.
She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat's wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don't look at the corpse slumped by the dryer.
Out the back. Up the fire escape.
On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone.
Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war.
"Don't move," the voice snapped.
She lifted her hands slowly. "I'm clean."
"Everyone says that."
"Scan me."
A beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies.
She lowered the rifle half an inch.
"You're lucky you're cute."
That wasn't the line she expected.
"…Seriously?"
"You heard me."
The words hung there — surreal, electric. Somewhere between Variant screams and the skyline on fire, a half - flirt counted as mercy.
The girl lit a cigarette, then offered her the lighter. "What were you running from?"
"Three - legged Variant. Fast. Smelled me from halfway across Midtown."
She exhaled smoke, swore under her breath. "They're adapting again."
A new scream cracked the air. Closer.
"You got backup?" the first girl asked.
"No. But I've got ammo. And you."
That earned her a crooked smile — dangerous, a little reckless. Like this girl had stopped fearing death and started chasing the thrill instead. But the way her gaze lingered said something else.
It wasn't just survival that kept her there.
It was curiosity. Maybe even interest.
Heat bloomed up her spine despite the cold wind sweeping over the rooftop.
Below, claws scraped steel. Another howl.
The girl crushed the cigarette under her boot and rolled her neck like she'd been waiting for this all day.
"Well," she said, voice dry. "You ready to impress me?"
A shaky breath. A nod.
Knife drawn. Shoulders squared.
In a world where nothing was safe — where even love could get you killed — something shifted.
Not safety. Not trust.
But maybe… something close.
They stood side by side as the roof began to tremble, hearts thudding in sync, steel glinting in the dying light.
If the world was ending, it wasn't going to end quiet.