Years ago, the word “apocalypse” meant zombies, plagues, or alien invasions. No one imagined it would be mankind that pulled the trigger.

  It wasn’t divine wrath or some cosmic disaster — just raw, human greed. The hunger for power. The cruelty they showed, especially toward women and children. That’s what drove the gods away. Heaven didn’t fall silent by accident — it turned its back. And no amount of prayer or ceremony could bring back its grace.

  The world was hollowed of holiness.

  When nuclear war broke out, it wasn’t one nation—it was all of them. Some collapsed into civil war; others fought for dominance. Most of the Earth was wiped clean. What came after wasn’t a rebirth. It was a reshuffling of rot.

  The world fractured into five segments. We lived at its heart, in a city called Makai-shi — the City of Demons.

  To the north: Fuyugoke, frozen year-round, unforgiving and silent.

  To the east: Shinra, ruled by a closed nation of perfectionist.

  To the west: Kiri-no-machi, where the fog twists your mind and steals your soul.

  And farther still: Shikkoku, no man's land — a place where even nightmares refuse to go.

  Every region holds its own horror.

  In this world, the strong feast and the weak vanish. The elite decide who eats and who dies. Children and the elderly are considered a waste of resources. Women fare slightly better, but men get the lion’s share.

  At the top of the food chain are the elites — the apex predators. Beneath them are gang leaders, crude lowly predators who hunt the most vulnerable. They crave fear. They consume it.

  “Saki… Saki.”

  A frail voice broke through the silence.

  Saki Yamada came from downtown Makai-shi — a part of the city the elites had marked as fit only for the forgotten. Being a woman here meant living with one eye over your shoulder. Murder, rape, cannibalism — none of it was rare. But fear had long since been replaced by survival. You either work, or you don’t eat.

  And Saki had someone to feed.

  She stepped out of the cramped bathroom, tying the string of her faded uniform. Her grandmother, eyes heavy with age and pain, was hunched over by the shelf.

  “Saki, I can’t seem to find my medicine,” she said, her voice soft and trembling.

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  Saki’s throat tightened. The price had tripled overnight.

  “I forgot to pick it up last time,” she lied. “I’ll try to get it tonight, Sobo.”

  “Okay, but be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  She kissed her grandmother’s forehead and left their tiny bedroom apartment with cracked walls, a low ceiling, and yellow lights flickering like casting a heavy gloom. Time never seemed to move here.

  Pulling her jacket tight, Saki stepped into the street, her head low. The alley reeked of rot and sulfur. Trash bags were all slumped against the wall. With flickering streetlights casting long, uneven shadows.

  She moved fast. One turn. Then another. She knew these streets like the back of her hand.

  Ahead at the checkpoint, she sees the tall metallic gates with barbed wire on top and a small metallic door for them to pass through. A small crowd was gathered at the checkpoint with armed guards checking their IDs. They weren’t allowed to work in the uptown without a proper ID. Sounds of shuffling feet and the scanner’s beep fill the silence. When it's her turn, she takes out her ID and offers it silently. Beep. A green light glows. The small door opens. She stepped through.

  And just like that, it was another world.

  Uptown glittered under neon skies. The sidewalk sparkled. The air was cold but alive with the thick, lingering scent of takoyaki, cigarette smoke, and perfume. Clubs boomed. Cars shimmered. Everything here moved.

  In the center of the town stood the tallest building. It was where he resided, Ryuto Kuroda. He holds to his name; he is the dragon that brought system and order to this place. A council of self-nominated ministers set out the rules and crowned Kuroda as their leader. She passes through a few blocks and sees the bright neon sign glaring “NOVA.” Slipping through the back door, she was hit with the usual haze of smoke and whiskey.

  She clocked in.

  “There you are,” a familiar voice called.

  Souta. He was one of the few she could stand in this place. He was a lean man with early signs of male pattern balding. A little awkward at first but solid.

  “Don’t get me started,” she muttered.

  “One of those days? You know I get it. If you ever wanna talk…”

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling her apron on. “But I’m good. Any VIPs tonight?”

  Their conversation broke as a deep voice bellowed from across the room.

  “What are you two yapping about? Do you know who’s coming? Master Kuroda himself! Get your tags on and get to your places! If any of you screw this up—” Goro’s face turned beet red, sweat pouring down his temples. He adjusted his slicked-back hair and stormed off.

  Ryuto Kuroda. His name alone could drain the room of oxygen. He was said to be ruthless and cold. But on the other hand, he was a great connoisseur of art. A patron of the extraordinary. In Makai-shi, there’s a saying:

  If he notices you, your life changes.

  If he chooses you, you become one of the Seven Jewels — the most treasured artists in the city. Five had already been chosen. The last two were still out there.

  It was the only ticket out of this life. One shot to rewrite your fate. A sense of hope flickered in Saki’s heart. For deep within her soul, she always hoped to be one of the seven jewels. For who does not want a ticket to a better life?

  And maybe, just maybe… Tonight was Saki’s, and she wouldn’t waste it.