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The world had changed, but it was slowly mending. The scars left by the apocalypse were deep, and the memories of those harrowing days would never truly fade, but humanity was resilient.

Two weeks had passed since the hunters had emerged victorious from the Death Tower, and in that short time, the earth had already begun to heal.

The sky was a clear blue, the clouds soft and white, drifting peacefully above a world that had been plunged into darkness for so long.

The air, once thick with the stench of decay and the virus that had plagued humanity, was now clean and fresh, a reminder of the life that had been restored.

Birds, absent during the apocalypse, had returned, their songs filling the air with a sense of normalcy that had been absent for far too long.

The government, once crippled by the chaos, had reestablished itself. Leaders who had survived the ordeal stepped forward, determined to rebuild the world that had been nearly destroyed.

They worked tirelessly, organizing effo