The night was never dark anymore. Above the ruined world hung the red star, a bleeding wound in the sky, its light burning every shadow into ash. When it screamed, cities fell—its beams of fire carving through towers, melting stone, and splitting the earth itself. What was once a living world is now a battlefield of smoke, fog, and shattered steel. The streets are empty but never silent; the wind carries the sound of crumbling walls, the hiss of flames, and the echo of something chasing in the dark. And yet, in the heart of this broken city, warriors still rise. Spears gleam in the storm, footsteps thunder through the ash, and in the distance, the red star prepares to strike again. The battle for survival has begun.

(Footage cuts in and out — a shaky handheld camera catches a broken road sign. The words are barely legible under rust and peeling paint: “Welcome to Hollow Black Town.”) Narrator (distorted): “They say no maps ever marked it. No records prove it was built. But the town is there, waiting in the fog… and once you step inside, you never walk out the same.” (The footage glitches. Street lamps flicker, casting shadows across empty buildings. A child’s voice hums faintly, then stops. The camera zooms in on the church doors, creaking open on their own.) Narrator (distorted, almost a whisper): “The trees remember every voice they’ve eaten. And tonight, they’re still hungry.” (Static swallows the screen, then silence.)

Ẏ̵̡̡̧̢͉͓͔͕͓̘̘̹̥̊͂̓̊̕͜Ǫ̴͎͓̞̜̲̯͖̠͍̘́̇͆̓̎͋̃͊͑̀͠U̶͕͝ ̶̡̫̼̱̰͚͙̠̠̮̰̼̣͍́͜ͅW̷̢̺͍̯̟͎̱̰̟͕̝͎̝̦̔͂͗̆̇̍̉̽̈́́͂͠ͅI̸̡̢͚̥̠̝̙͚̱͇̦̥͉͙͔̝̐͒̌̄́̉̒̎̒͑͂̈́̇͠͝L̸̨̫͎̫͎͎̻̙̻̱̻̝̙̪̟̽͒ͅL̴̥̪̣͖̪̺͇̞̰̚ ̸̢̡̤̠͎̞̺̼̆̋̿͋̃̄̾̎̋̇̅͘͜N̴̡̢̡̨̞̩̥̙̩͖͖̬͇̘͚̤̄̋̌̓̎̚͠͝ͅỜ̸̧̨̮̭̉̀̎͛̕̕͝T̸̛̼͍̼̔̂͑͆̃̽́́̀̓͗͐̄͐̋̕ ̴̤̝̹̟̭͚̟͑̏͗̈́͊̀̀͜H̵̡̧̬͓̭̪͖͂̀̂͌̃́͝͝ͅḮ̴̮͚̮̜̞̘̝̣̲D̸̯̙͙͖̽̏́̓̈́̏͑͆͋͝͝E̵͎̳̥͙̲͈̥̮̱̅̆̾̔̅̽͜͝