The Zone Interdite was the kind of place that made you reconsider every life choice you'd ever made—like agreeing to a second helping of mystery stew or deciding to trust a 'friendly' stranger with suspiciously sharp teeth. For Léo, it was home. Or, more accurately, a cage with very bad ventilation and zero room service.
He stepped carefully over the cracked pavement, the remnants of old world civilization groaning under his boots. The sky, a permanent bruise of sickly orange and gray, leaked ash like it couldn't decide whether to cry or choke. Every breath was a reminder that the air here had a personality—rude, abrasive, and downright toxic.
Léo adjusted the strap of his tattered backpack, the only thing keeping his meager belongings from scattering into the unforgiving wind. The Zone wasn't just dangerous—it was indifferent, like a bored cat batting a mouse around before deciding if it was worth the effort.
"Great," he muttered, voice dry. "Another day in paradise."
He scanned the horizon, eyes sharp despite the fatigue that weighed on his shoulders like a lead blanket. Somewhere beyond the twisted ruins, shadows moved. Not the comforting kind of shadows you see at sunset, but the kind that whispered threats and hid things that didn't want to be found.
His fingers brushed the pendant hanging from his neck, an old relic with no magic or meaning—just a cold piece of metal. A reminder of who he was, or maybe who he used to be. It didn't help much, but it was better than nothing.
A sudden rustle made him freeze. The Zone was alive, sure, but sometimes it felt like it had its own agenda—one that didn't include letting people walk out unscathed. Léo's eyes narrowed.
Out of the corner of his vision, something flickered—a movement too fast to catch, yet too deliberate to be a trick of the light. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Alright, Zone. Show me what you got."
As he advanced, the wind carried a faint, eerie hum—like a distant song played on broken strings. It was subtle, but it set every nerve on edge.
And then, silence.
Too quiet.
Léo's hand instinctively went to the knife strapped to his belt. He had learned the hard way that silence in the Zone was never a good sign.
From the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes blinked once and vanished.
He blinked, shaking off the chill creeping up his spine. The Zone wasn't done with him yet.
Léo's pulse quickened, but he kept his steps steady, eyes darting between the shifting shadows and the crumbling remains of the old world. The Zone was a cruel teacher—each lesson paid in scars, and no refunds.
The glowing eyes weren't the first strange thing he'd seen today, and they certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd heard rumors of creatures mutated by the toxic air and corrupted magic left behind by the Judgment System. Monsters weren't polite—they didn't announce themselves with a handshake or a warning.
Ahead, a faint flicker of light caught his eye. Not fire, but something closer to a pulse—a soft glow emanating from the ruins of what might have been a cathedral. A place once sacred, now just a skeleton of stone and sorrow.
Curiosity pushed him forward. Maybe it was foolish; maybe it was hope. In the Zone, those two were sometimes the same thing.
As he moved through the shattered archways, the hum returned, louder this time. It wasn't just the wind. Something was calling out—or warning him.
Then the ground beneath him shifted. A thin crack opened, swallowing a piece of rubble like a mouth stretching wide. Léo jumped back, heart slamming against his ribs like a desperate prisoner.
"Yeah, no thanks," he said aloud, voice dripping with sarcasm to mask the tremor in his hands.
He crouched, inspecting the fissure. It ran deep, disappearing into darkness so absolute it seemed to swallow the feeble light around it. The air smelled worse here—like burnt metal and old secrets.
A sound—low, guttural—echoed from the abyss. Léo's gaze snapped up to the shadows looming just beyond the crack.
Something moved.
Something alive.
And it was watching.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, an involuntary warning he couldn't ignore.
"Looks like the Zone's got a new game," he muttered, gripping his knife tighter. "And I'm the bait."
Léo held his breath, every muscle taut like a drawn bowstring. The dark crept closer, shadows twisting with a life of their own. That guttural noise echoed again — low, almost a growl, but somehow… calculating.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just what I needed — invisible monsters with mood swings."
He scanned the rubble, seeking anything that could serve as a weapon beyond his trusty, albeit dull, knife. His eyes caught a length of rusty rebar sticking out from a broken pillar. It wouldn't be much, but it was better than bare hands.
Slow, deliberate steps. He edged back toward the crack, trying to put some distance between himself and whatever lurked below. But the Zone had a way of trapping you. No matter how far you run, it's always waiting.
A faint shimmer caught his eye — the faintest pulse of light from the crack itself. He leaned closer, curiosity pulling him forward despite the gnawing fear.
Suddenly, the air shifted.
A tendril of shadow slithered upward like smoke, twisting and curling as if testing the air. It stopped mere inches from his face. Cold. Hungry. Unblinking.
Léo snorted, trying to mask his terror. "Yeah, you're not exactly winning the charm contest."
He jabbed the rebar forward, half-expecting it to pass right through the shadow. Instead, it met resistance — a smoky, writhing form recoiling with a hiss.
The thing shrieked — an otherworldly sound that grated on his nerves — then vanished back into the abyss.
Léo exhaled sharply, heart pounding like a war drum.
"Well, that was… less than friendly."
He straightened up and glanced at the flickering light in the ruins again. Whatever was down there, it wasn't done with him. And neither was the Judgment System.
The voice inside him whispered once more, soft but insistent:
**"Judge... or be judged."**
Léo stepped back from the crack, his fingers trembling slightly. The voice inside his head — that eerie whisper from the Judgment System — was no longer just a ghost in the dark. It felt real. Present. And demanding.
"Judge... or be judged," it repeated, like a dark mantra.
He clenched his fists, fighting the swirl of panic and disbelief. Was he losing his mind? Or had the Collapse truly buried something more than just ruins and monsters?
A sudden pang of hunger gnawed at his stomach, grounding him. Survival, not philosophy, was his priority. But now, survival came with a price — power he barely understood, wrapped in shadows and threats.
His gaze flickered back to the crumbling cityscape beyond the ruins, where distant fires painted the night sky red. Somewhere in the chaos, enemies watched. The Regime's soldiers. Mutants. Hunters of the lost.
Léo smirked despite the dread. "Bring it on. If this Judgment thing's got my back, maybe I've got a shot."
He pocketed the rebar, eyes sharp and ready.
Because in this broken world, the only law was the one you imposed — and the only judge was yourself.
With a final glance at the dark crack beneath his feet, Léo disappeared into the shadows, the faint glow of the Judgment System pulsing beneath his skin.