They say Earth was once green.
Full of oceans that danced in the moonlight, skies that painted sunsets in gold, and forests that whispered secrets to the wind.
But that was a long, long time ago.
Now, Earth is nothing more than a broken memory.
A place forgotten by time.
A graveyard of what used to be.
It all started with World War III.
Countries turned on each other.
Cities turned into ash.
Within months, half the population vanished. Bombs dropped. Fires raged. Humanity broke.
As survivors tried to rebuild, a deadly virus spread across continents like wildfire.
It showed no mercy—young, old, rich, poor.
The remaining half of the population? Gone.
But Fate wasn't done yet.
A massive asteroid slammed into the planet. The impact was cataclysmic.
It sent tsunamis crashing over continents, swallowing entire nations.
The Earth's axis shifted. And worse—the planet drifted closer to the Sun.
Temperatures soared.
Oceans boiled.
Clouds vanished.
Rain became a myth.
What remains is a planet clinging to life out of sheer inertia. Cities lie in ruins, their steel bones rusting in silence. Wildlife has vanished. Humanity, what's left of it, has either fled or turned savage, scavenging like rats in a graveyard of their own making.
And now, to the stars and colonies beyond, Earth is no longer home.
The planet that died not from an outside force—but by the hands of those who once called it paradise.
It is now called Terrafall — a name that marks the planet's collapse and downfall.
You could count the survivors on your fingers.
The lucky ones—or maybe the cursed.
In the middle of the madness, a miracle appeared
A portal.
Built by the last scientific minds before they left, it connected Earth to a new world— Maurge.
Once a lifeless red rock Mars, has been reborn through fire and war into a militarized empire pulsing with control, precision, and power now known as Maurge.
Where Terrafall is decay, Maurge is domination — the iron fist that rose from Earth's ashes to claim the stars.
The rich, powerful, and intelligent escaped through it.
Mars became the new Eden.
Earth was left behind. Forgotten.
But not everyone left.
Some stayed, believing they could protect what was left of their dying world.
But Earth was already dead.
There is no economy. No justice. No births.
People no longer build families.
They barely survive.
Food is everything.
Whoever has it, rules.
That power belongs to the Commandors — the former leaders who stayed behind.
Politicians, generals, and scientists who now live in luxury inside air-controlled bunkers called The Crown Vaults.
They feast on food stored from before the wars.
Canned goods. Dried meat. Bottled water.
While outside, in the sun-scorched cities and crumbling streets, people starve.
Even pregnant women are ignored.
Beaten. Left to die.
Their cries echo in the dry wind.
But no one hears them.
Or maybe… no one cares.
....
Far away from the towering Crown Vaults—those tall, shining buildings that now ruled over what was left of the world—there was a place once known as Zone 3.
Long ago, it had been a busy area filled with machines and energy, a place where electricity was made to power entire cities. But now, it was nothing more than a pile of broken buildings, twisted metal, and burnt-out machines.
In the midst of that desolation, two teenage boys moved like shadows.
One boy was named Reo.
He had messy dark hair, burned skin, and hollow eyes.
He was brave — or maybe just tired of being afraid.
The other was Jun.
Thinner, quieter.
Hope still clung to his face like a shadow that hadn't left.
Their eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, and every sound made them tense up. They stepped lightly over broken tiles and shattered glass, ducking behind fallen beams and rusted-out equipment. They had done this many times before—sneaking through ruins, searching for anything they could use—but this time, it was different.
The power station's wreckage wasn't what they had come for.
It was just a mask—a ruined shell that covered something far more important underneath.
They had heard whispers. Rumors passed from survivor to survivor. Stories that seemed too good to be true. Buried beneath the power station, hidden deep underground, there was said to be an old storage unit—one left untouched since before the collapse. A government stockpile. A secret place where emergency food supplies were once stored. Canned goods. Water. Maybe even real medicine.
For most people, that was just a story.
But for these two boys, it was worth risking everything.
They hadn't eaten in two days. Their water was nearly gone. And in a world like Terrafall, hope didn't come often—and never stayed long. So they clung to the rumor, followed the map they had pieced together from old blueprints and scavenged data chips, and made their way here.
The ruins were dangerous, yes.
But the idea of food—real food—was stronger than fear.
"W-What if we get caught?" Jun whispered, looking over his shoulder.
Reo gave a look to jun, tired but fearless.
"Stop being negative all the time. If we do get caught… at least we'll die with our stomachs full."
They searched every room they could find, opening door after door, stepping into one crumbling chamber after another—but all they found were piles of dust, broken machines, and empty shelves.
Nothing.
Just silence and ruin.
Their boots scraped against the dirt-covered floor as they kept moving, slower with each step, hope slipping away like sand through their fingers. Reo wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion. Jun's shoulders slumped as he leaned against a cracked wall, eyes dull.
Reo let out a breath of frustration. Jun leaned against a broken wall, sweat dripping from his brow, ready to give up.
"Maybe it was just a story." Jun whispered, barely believing the words himself.
But just when they were about to give up…
They saw it.
A door.
Tucked away at the far end of a hallway neither of them remembered passing through before. It looked like the others—metal, rusted, barely holding itself together—but something about it felt different. It wasn't open. And more importantly… it wouldn't open.
They tried the handle. Turned it. Pulled. Pushed. Nothing.
Jun furrowed his brows and glanced at Reo, who was already staring back, his heart pounding like a drum.
Was this it? Was this the one?
Without a word, Jun stepped forward and kicked the door hard with the flat of his foot. The metal rattled but held strong. He tried again, harder this time, but it still didn't budge.
Reo looked around, desperate for something—anything—that could help. That's when he spotted it: a large, jagged piece of grey brick lying near a fallen beam.
Without hesitation, Reo ran over to it. His fingers slipped around the rough edges, and he grunted as he tried to lift it. It was far too heavy for him—his arms shook, and his back ached—but he forced himself to carry it.
Jun stepped back as Reo staggered toward the door, lifting the brick above his shoulder with a roar of effort.
He stumbled toward the door, raised the brick above his head with a yell, and hurled it down with all the strength his tired body had left—right onto the door's handle.
CRACK!
The metal bent with a sharp, splitting sound—and with a final push from Jun, the door creaked open, slow and heavy like it hadn't moved in years.
The boys froze.
Darkness loomed behind it. Cold air rushed out like a breath that had been held for too long.
They looked at each other, hearts still racing.
And the darkness inside seemed to breathe.
They stepped inside slowly, hearts thudding, breath held.
It was almost pitch dark inside. They could barely see a thing.
Jun reached out blindly, feeling the wall. Reo squinted into the shadows.
A small, faint light glowed in the distance. Just a flicker. Just enough to show that something was there.
Without a word, they moved toward it, their steps cautious but quick, eyes wide, breaths shallow. Dust swirled in the beam of light like dancing ash. Their shadows stretched across the floor, long and uncertain.
And then they reached it.
As the soft light filled the room, their eyes widened.
Rows of shelves stood tall.
Each one filled with cans, bread, water bottles, and sealed bags of rice.
The dim emergency light above them flickered, casting a warm glow over the supplies like sunlight touching gold.
To them, it was gold.
Reo's mouth dropped open. Jun took a shaky step forward, almost afraid it would vanish if he blinked.
To anyone else, it was just storage.
To these boys, it was heaven.
Jun froze.
He had never seen so much food before.
Not even in his dream.
Reo didn't waste time.
He grabbed a small loaf of bread, wrapped in faded plastic.
He tore it open and took a bite.
Tears slid down his dirt-covered face as he chewed slowly.
"I don't care if I die now" he whispered.
"I'm at peace."
Jun wiped his eyes. "I—I'll take something for my sister…"
But then—
"HEY!!"
A guard's voice cracked through the silence like a whip.
Jun dropped the food.
Reo turned, panic in his eyes.
Bright lights lit up the room.
Heavy boots stomped on the floor.
Guards.
They stormed in, surrounding the boys in seconds.
No mercy. No questions.
The boys were tackled to the floor.
Their hands were yanked behind their backs and cuffed.
Their knees slammed into the cold metal ground.
"LET US GO, MOTHERFUCKERS!!" Reo shouted, struggling.
"W-We mean no harm!" Jun cried, panicking.
The lead soldier spat in disgust.
"Thieves. Scum. Take them to The Hollow Furnace."
The Hollow Furnace — Earth's central prison.
A place worse than death.
They wouldn't be executed.
Not because of mercy — but because human lives were too rare to waste.
Instead, they'd be used.
In the Hollow Furnace, prisoners worked until their bones broke.
Day and night.
No food. No water.
They built machines meant to revive a dead economy.
They were whipped like animals.
Treated like machines.
Hope died there.
And maybe, eventually, so would they.
But not before their spirits were crushed.
At that point, death might've been the kinder option.