Chapter 1: Outsider in the City of Ash (1)
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The sky above "Sakura City" was dyed a strange color, a sickly blend of gray and gloomy purple, as if the atmosphere itself had suffered an unhealable bruise.
Kage Sora stood behind the glass of the large French window in a luxurious twentieth-floor apartment, looking down in utter silence. This was not his apartment, and this was certainly not his world.
Just two weeks ago, he was walking the streets of his own city on Earth. Then, suddenly, and without a speeding truck or a lightning bolt, he found himself here. Same body, same clothes, and the same red scarf wrapped around his neck, but the world around him had changed. They called this planet "Blue Star." The street signs were written in familiar Japanese, but with different city names. Tokyo was not Tokyo here; it was "Sakura City."
For the first ten days, he was merely a wanderer. A homeless man in clean clothes trying to understand the physical and social rules of this parallel world that seemed deceptively peaceful and prosperous.
Then, three days ago, everything changed.
"Peaceful..." Sora muttered in a hoarse voice, his throat dry from a lack of speaking. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, his eyes scanning the catastrophe unfolding below.
Beneath his gaze, the city that had been pulsing with life seventy-two hours ago had turned into an open slaughterhouse. Cars were piled atop one another on the main streets like broken children's toys, and tongues of flame devoured the facades of luxury shops. But the true horror lay not in the physical destruction, but in what moved amidst the wreckage.
Small black dots from this height, but Sora knew exactly what they were. Crowds. Human waves flowing slowly and staggeringly, chasing the panicked few who were still trying to run.
Sora took a deep breath; the smell of faint smoke had seeped through the gaps in the windows despite them being tightly shut. He turned his back to the window, leaning against it, and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the expensive wooden floor.
"I thought I had transmigrated to become the hero of a slice-of-life story, maybe a high school romance," he mocked himself, a ghost of a wry smile playing on his pale face. "But it seems the scriptwriter decided at the last minute to switch the script to a high-budget B-grade horror movie."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with focus, directing his thoughts toward the empty space in front of him. He didn't need a password, nor did he need to raise his hand. Just intent.
With a faint sound that only he could hear—a soft digital chime—the screen appeared.
A pane of translucent blue light floated in the air before him, ignoring the laws of physics and light in the room. It illuminated his face with a dim glow.
[Global System]
* Name: Kage Sora
* Current Version: Apocalypse World
* Version Update Progress: 16.51%
* Inventory (Click to Open)
Sora stared at the number: 16.51%.
It was 16.49% an hour ago. It was rising. Very slowly, and with terrifying steadiness, it was rising.
"What does this mean?" he wondered for the thousandth time, passing his hand through the transparent screen without touching anything physical.
The phrasing was both clear and ambiguous. Current Version: Apocalypse World. That explained the zombies, the chaos, and the collapse of civilization in three days. The System was telling him what he saw with his own eyes. But "Update Progress"?
Did it mean that when it reached 100%, the update would finish, and the world would return to normal? Was it the completion rate of the virus spreading across the entire planet? Or was it a countdown to something worse?
He had no answers. All he had was this blue pane that no one else could see, and this apartment he had broken into two days ago after finding its door open and its owners... gone. Or rather, turned into something else and left.
He turned his gaze to the last option on the list: [Inventory (Click to Open)].
He focused his mind on the virtual button. The blue screen split, revealing a grid of squares, resembling an inventory interface from an old-school RPG video game. Fifty square slots, mostly empty, but some were occupied.
This was the only thing that had kept him from going insane, and the only reason he was still alive right now without having to fight for a loaf of bread.
Sora began reviewing his possessions with the mindset of a strict accountant.
Slot 1: Kitchen Knife (Stainless Steel) - Quantity: 3.
He had gathered them from this apartment's kitchen. Expensive knives, sharp enough to slice paper in mid-air, but they had not touched rotten flesh yet.
Slot 2: Mineral Water Bottle (500ml) - Quantity: 9.
This was the maximum stack per slot. The number 9 shone in a small gold color in the corner of the square.
Slot 3: Mineral Water Bottle (500ml) - Quantity: 4.
Total: 13 bottles. Tap water had been cut off since yesterday, and even if it returned, he wouldn't risk drinking it.
Slot 4: Canned Beef - Quantity: 9.
Slot 5: High-Energy Biscuits - Quantity: 6.
Slot 6: Smartphone (No Signal) - Quantity: 1.
His personal phone. Useless for calling, but useful as a clock, a flashlight, and perhaps to play music if he decided his end had come and wanted a soundtrack for the final scene.
Slot 7: Lighter - Quantity: 2.
Sora sighed and mentally closed the inventory interface. The screen faded into nothingness, and he returned to seeing the luxurious furniture covered in a thin layer of dust.
The situation was stable... theoretically. He had enough food and water for perhaps two weeks, or three if he rationed. The apartment was on the twentieth floor, its main door was solid, and he had dragged the heavy sofa and dining table to block it from the inside as an extra barricade.
"But..."
Sora stood up and walked with quiet steps—a habit he had quickly acquired over the last three days—toward the apartment door.
He cautiously pressed his ear against the cold metal of the reinforced door.
At first, silence reigned. But after a few seconds, he heard it.
The sound of heavy feet dragging. The sound of a wet rattle in throats. And more dangerously, the sound of bodies thudding against neighboring doors.
They were multiplying.
When the "Update" began three days ago, the chaos was in the streets. People ran, and zombies chased them in the open. High-rise buildings were relatively safe havens. But now, after the streets had died and the screams had subsided, those monsters began to... migrate.
They started entering buildings. Climbing stairs. Spreading like mold through the veins of the dead city.
An hour ago, Sora heard screaming on the nineteenth floor. A woman's scream that lasted only three seconds before being cut off by the sound of savage tearing.
Now, the sounds were closer. Perhaps on the twentieth floor itself.
"This area is burning," he whispered to himself, backing away from the door. "Zombie density is increasing in the residential complexes. Staying here means being trapped in the sky."
He looked around the spacious apartment. It was a golden prison. If they surrounded him here, there would be no escape but jumping from the window, an option not much different from being eaten alive.
He had to move.
Sora moved to the master bedroom. He stood before the full-length mirror.
A young man of twenty-three. Slightly messy black hair, and faint dark circles under his eyes starting to show from lack of sleep.
He reached up and adjusted the red scarf around his neck. This scarf was a gift from... someone in his previous world, and he would never take it off. In this cold, gray world, the stark red color of the scarf looked like a challenge.
"Alright, Sora," he addressed his reflection, trying to gather his courage. His body was tense. He wasn't a boxer or a soldier, but he was athletic, keeping himself fit. On Earth, that meant he was good at five-a-side football with friends. Here? Here, he hoped it meant he could run faster than death.
He opened the inventory again.
His quick thought made a kitchen knife appear in his right hand from thin air. The weight was familiar now. The black handle was cold.
He tested two moves in the air. A stab, then a withdrawal.
The movement was smooth, but the problem wasn't in the arm. The problem was in the mind.
He remembered the face of the doorman he saw on the first day of the disaster. The kind old man who used to greet him—Sora saw him tearing at the neck of a delivery girl. In that moment, Sora fled. He hid. He locked the door and wept silently while trembling.
He hadn't killed one of them yet.
He told himself he was smart, that he was avoiding unnecessary combat. But deep down, he knew the truth: he was afraid. Afraid of plunging a knife into a body that was human days ago. Afraid of the sound of tearing flesh. Afraid that he himself would turn into a monster if he started killing.
"16.51%..." he repeated the number.
If he stayed here, they would reach him. The barricaded door wouldn't hold forever against a horde. And if the food ran out, he would weaken physically and wouldn't be able to fight.
Leaving now, while he was at full strength, was the only logical choice.
Sora put on a black leather jacket he found in the apartment owner's closet—it was slightly too big for him, but it provided good protection for his arms against bites and scratches. He tied his sneakers tightly.
He checked that everything precious was stored in the fifty slots.
Water? Check.
Food? Check.
Weapon? In hand.
He walked to the apartment door again. He began removing the barricades with extreme caution.
He pushed the table slowly, trying not to make a sound. Every noise was a dinner bell for the monsters outside. He pulled the sofa centimeter by centimeter until his forehead sweated.
Finally, the path to the door was clear.
He placed his hand on the metal handle.
He imagined what lay behind it. The long corridor lined with luxury carpet, the lights that might be flickering now or gone out, and the closed doors hiding unspeakable tragedies behind them.
"Objective: Leave the residential complex," Sora defined his mission clearly. "Destination: Industrial zone or any place with open visibility."
He turned the lock. A faint click.
Then he turned the handle.
He opened the door a tiny crack, peering through with one eye.
The corridor was dark except for a dim red emergency light at the end. The smell here was stronger. The smell of something rotten and decaying.
He saw no one in his immediate line of sight.
But on the floor, a few meters from his door, there was a large pool of blood, and drag marks stretching toward the stairs.
Sora stepped out of his apartment and closed the door behind him quietly.
Now he was in the open. No walls to protect him but his speed and this knife in his hand.
He felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't ordinary fear. It was the feeling of prey that had just stepped out of its burrow.
He took one step forward. The floor beneath his foot gave a faint creak.
He froze in place.
From the corner of the corridor, at the turn leading to the elevators, a shadow emerged.
At first, it looked like a person standing hunched over, perhaps sick?
But when the shadow turned toward the sound, the blood froze in Sora's veins.
It wasn't a human face. It was a mask of torn flesh, two completely white eyes with no pupils, and an unnaturally open mouth dripping black viscous liquid.
It saw him.
The monster saw him.
The zombie didn't scream. It didn't growl immediately. It just tilted its head at a strange angle, as if trying to understand what this fresh meat standing before it with a red scarf was.
Sora tightened his grip on the knife until his knuckles turned white.
The counter in his mind, that blue screen, seemed to pulse in the background of his vision.
[Update Progress: 16.52%]
The percentage increased slightly.
And here, in this dim corridor, Sora realized that his time as an "observer" was over.
The monster let out a gurgling sound from its throat and began to run toward him. It wasn't slow. It ran with a mad dash, arms outstretched to grab.
Sora raised the knife.
This is the beginning.