The dying sun bled into the horizon, casting an apocalyptic glow over the wasteland. Dust swirled in the air, and the stench of decay filled the breeze. The once-thriving land was now a battlefield for survival, overrun by mindless hordes of the undead. Yet, even in this forsaken world, heroes could rise.
Damien Rook was one such hero. A former lawman, now a lone rider, hardened by the horrors he’d witnessed. His black hat was pulled low, shading his steely eyes, and his worn leather jacket was patched from countless close calls. As the hooves of his horse splashed in the murky water, Damien stared at the crimson clouds above, knowing that danger lurked behind every shadow.
Once, Damien had been a man of justice. But the world had no use for justice anymore—it only understood survival. His town, his family, all gone in the first wave of the infection. Now, all he had left was his resolve and the silver revolver on his hip, engraved with the names of those he'd lost.