The first drops fell pale blue.
With the rain, the apocalypse began.
Crowds panicked—sirens screamed, soldiers shoved people back, and civilians scattered in all directions. I forced my way forward, spotting a famous political figure. Without hesitation, I caught his arm as he slipped on the wet stone steps—already imagining the benefits of saving him.
"Hold on!" I shouted, dragging him upward.
Then his body jerked. Flesh writhed under my grip, splitting apart as his form unraveled into dozens of yellow, finger-length worms that scattered across the ground.
I let go and ran without thinking—pushing through the storm, lungs burning, footsteps splashing against the flooded streets. But when I glanced down, I froze.
My own legs were writhing. Splitting. Transforming into the same crawling swarm.
I stood motionless, knowing my coming fate.
And then—nothing.