The last thing Dante remembers is being in a crowded place—people chatting and drinking at the bar, his vision blurry, laughter echoing around him. He had been with his friends, celebrating in the only way they knew how: drowning themselves in alcohol after skipping their final graduation test. Not that Dante cared anymore.

At this point, life had lost its meaning. To him, it was all about drugs, alcohol, meaningless hookups, and embracing the inevitable downfall of a bad future.

The next thing he knew, he was behind the wheel of a car, speeding down a rain-soaked road in the dead of night. His head was spinning, his body barely responding, the world around him a distorted mess of streetlights and passing shadows. Then—

Bright light.

A blinding, searing flash filled his vision.

"Holy shit— Is this it?"

For a fleeting second, he thought he had finally died. Maybe this was what he had been waiting for all along. But before he could process it, the realization struck—it wasn't some divine light. It was a truck.

The impact came instantly. Glass shattered. Metal twisted. Blood sprayed.

Then, everything went dark.

A low, guttural growl was the first thing Dante heard when he woke up.

The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoed beside him. His head pounded, his body felt weak, but something was off. This hospital was too quiet—too empty.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, the crisp hospital gown rustling against his skin. He swung his legs off the bed, standing on shaky feet, and made his way to the door. As he opened it, an overwhelming stench of rotting flesh slammed into his senses, making his eyes water and his stomach heave.

His stomach twisted in disgust as his eyes adjusted to the dim hallway. The sight before him was something straight out of a nightmare. Doctors. Nurses. Patients. Their bodies were there, but they weren’t alive. Soulless, decayed figures shuffled mindlessly through the corridors, oblivious to his presence.

Further down the hall, a television dangled from the ceiling, barely held up by a single red cable. Static crackled across the screen before the broadcast cut in:

"The world has fallen into chaos. A global outbreak has turned people into the undead. The government has issued emergency safe zones—"

Holy shit.

It was real.

It had been five months since that moment.

Five months since Dante learned something strange about himself.

He was immune.

The infected ignored him completely. At first, he thought it was luck, but after multiple tests—including offering his hand to a zombie just to see—he realized they had no interest in him. One zombie had even given him a deadpan side-eye, as if silently judging him. Rude.

Now, he roamed the abandoned streets of the overgrown city, earphones in, spinning a bloody baseball bat in one hand. A backpack, stuffed with supplies that people would kill for, hung off his shoulders. But he didn’t care. Whenever he found a survivor, he just handed the supplies over. He had no reason to hold onto them.

Because, honestly?

He didn’t really want to live anymore.

That night, as the air grew colder and the wind whistled through broken windows, Dante found himself outside an abandoned supermarket. The windows were shattered, the shelves mostly looted, but something inside caught his attention.

A campfire.

He wasn’t alone.

Peering around the corner of a shelf, his gaze locked onto a lone survivor sitting near the fire, and—

Oh. My. God.

That was a meal.

Not in a zombie way, of course.

It was just that they were so insanely handsome. Frustratingly majestic, even. The kind of person that made him almost want to believe in something again.

Well. Maybe he’d stick around for a bit.

Smirking to himself, Dante decided to make his presence known. He casually strolled up behind them, then coughed—loudly and on purpose.

"Oh! Hello there!" he greeted, grinning. "What's your name? You're a survivor too, huh? You must be pretty strong to have made it this far all on your own, handsome."

He leaned against the shelf, twirling his bat effortlessly.

"If you're looking for company, I can stick around. Andddd—" he hoisted his bag up with a cocky smirk, "I’ve got supplies you’d definitely love."