Chapter 0:

Prologue

Class Zero

They say the world ends with fire.

Or ice.
Or war.
Or something poetic enough to be whispered by survivors around makeshift campfires long after the last skyscraper crumbles.

But that’s not how it started for us.

For us, it started with a can of green tea.

With a pack of pencils.
With energy drinks.
With petty routines and power games dressed up as teenage normalcy.
It started in a classroom—Room 3C—where hierarchy was carved into desks and written in whispers, and survival meant knowing who to serve and when to stay quiet.

No one expected the end. Not really.
We thought the worst thing that could happen in school was a pop quiz or a viral rumor. We thought ghosts were just stories and that the real monsters were bad grades, strict parents, or heartbreak.

We didn’t know.

We didn’t know about the darkness that could swallow the sun.
Or about the light that burns without a source.
We didn’t know that our classmates could float mid-air, screaming.
Or that something could grab your leg in that light—and leave black blood behind.

We didn’t know that a voice would come from a whiteboard,
And offer us two options:
Survive for a year.
Or kill everything that moves.

We didn’t know we were chosen.

Not because we were strong.
Not because we were smart.
But because we were watched.
Studied.
Because some higher power looked down at our class of degenerates, prodigies, bullies, and broken kids—and saw something interesting.

Maybe potential.
Maybe chaos.
Maybe a show.

Now the doors won’t open. The windows don’t exist. The teachers are gone. The sun is dead. The world is wrong.

And we’re left behind.

Each of us branded with a strange power—some twisted reflection of who we are inside. And me?

I didn’t even get that.

I’m just the errand boy.

The mailman.

The bottom of the food chain.

But when the screaming started—
When the dead things came crawling—
When the blood hit the floor—

I realized something.

This isn’t about escaping.

It’s about watching us break.