I stood still atop a tall, cracked skyscraper that was on the verge of collapsing, my dress swaying gently in the evening breeze. My eyes gazed downward—toward a main street swallowed by chaos. Dust swirled, weapons clashed, and distant explosions echoed from wrecked cars and crumbling buildings turned into a battlefield.
Two groups of humans were locked in a fierce battle. They weren't many—perhaps a dozen on each side—but the atmosphere was intense. These weren't soldiers; this was a clash between survivors. Armed gangs fighting over something—food, weapons, or maybe just territory.
"Hmm..." I murmured, crossing my arms and leaning slightly forward. "That one group... pure muscle. And the other... seems to prefer using their heads."
The first group, dominated by burly, rugged men, fought brutally. They wielded heavy weapons—metal clubs, rusted rifles, and improvised bombs. No tactics, just raw violence.
