Chapter 1 — The Fall of Legends

The city was a wasteland. A graveyard of its former self. Once bustling streets now stood silent, choked with smoke and ash. Buildings, which had once touched the sky, now lay shattered and broken, their skeletal remains rising like mournful monuments to a forgotten time. The sound of distant explosions echoed through the night, punctuated by the cries of the dying and the desperate.

Oleg stood at the heart of the wreckage, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. His face, once full of hope and determination, now wore the mask of defeat. His band, the last remnants of Radio Tapok, had fought with everything they had, but it had been for nothing. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and the enemies they faced were not just human anymore. The prototypes—monsters born of human creation—had evolved, adapting to every tactic and strategy they threw at them.

The square, once a place of gathering, was now a killing ground. Debris littered the area, the remnants of the barricades they had built to keep the oncoming forces at bay. The faint hum of broken electronics crackled in the air, a last testament to their failed efforts.

Oleg's hand gripped the radio transmitter, the button held in his palm as if he could summon salvation with the press of a finger. But the signal that once connected them to hope now felt like a hollow gesture. He had tried to contact anyone, everyone—his voice broadcasted over the static, a desperate plea for help. Yet there was no answer.

"We all knew this was coming," Oleg muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't think it would be this fast. This... final."

Behind him, the remaining survivors fought tooth and nail. His eyes scanned the battlefield—his friends, comrades, all falling one by one. The prototypes had grown stronger. No longer were they the mindless, hulking creatures of the past. Now, they moved with intelligence, with purpose. They had learned. Adapted. And they weren't stopping.

Oleg's mind raced as he glanced at the figure standing beside him. It was Em, her face pale, but her eyes burning with a fierceness that could have rivaled the sun itself. Her mechanical arm gleamed in the dim light of the burning city, the only reminder that she was once human. She had been one of the first to show signs of resistance to the prototypes, but now even she was struggling.

"We can't keep them back forever," Em said, her voice cold but filled with a knowing sadness. "The last transmission was a signal. It's our only chance. But the system... It's too complicated."

Oleg nodded, his gaze never leaving the destruction around them. The machines, relentless in their assault, were advancing with methodical precision. Each step they took brought them closer to the last of humanity's defenses. The group had no more tricks left. No more hope.

One by one, the survivors fell—screams echoing in the night as they were dragged into the depths of the ever-growing swarm. The sounds of struggle, of blood, of broken lives—it was all that remained. There were no heroes in this fight anymore. Just ghosts, fading away.

Oleg's fingers tightened around the transmitter once more. "We need to signal them," he said, the desperation in his voice breaking through his usual stoic exterior. "We need to get the message out there before it's too late. Maybe... maybe someone is still out there."

But as he pressed the button, a sharp pain ran through his chest. He gasped, clutching at the wound that had been dealt earlier in the fight. His vision blurred. He staggered, falling to his knees. The fight was over.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Em turning, her face a mask of resignation. She knew this was the end. The weight of their losses—their sacrifices—hung heavy in the air.

"It's over, Oleg."

His hand trembled as he looked at her, the weight of the world pressing down on him. In the final moments, he could only think of one thing. The world they had fought for. The world they had hoped to save.

It was gone.