62. Lost

The reddish sun finally set in, calling forth the dark and the moon to adorn the sky.

A skinny teenage boy of average height walked through the woods. He wore unwashed jeans and a sweaty oversized t-shirt. A bulky bag strapped to his shoulders, making him bend forward after an afternoon without rest.

A nametag hung from his bag, spelled Artha Sangkala.

It had been a long day for him. Soon, as the night started, his world would expand.

He didn’t expect this at first.

The invasion and infectores – all were stuff coming from nightmares. But here he was, surrounded by moving corpses and endless horror.

Artha wasn’t new to this kind of thing. Ghosts, demons, and the devil, he was accustomed to them since a baby. Supernatural beings were what he called normal. A psychic, people said to him. He didn’t mind when the unseen creatures were often better than normal humans.

Although, after a long day fighting infectores and killing them as a last resort, he was fed up with violence. However, he w
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