The world died not with a whimper, but with fire. Six years after the nuclear holocaust of 2025, the Earth fractured. Continents shifted like broken puzzle pieces, swallowing cities whole. Governments collapsed, replaced by warlords and scavenger empires.

  In the Atlantic, a new landmass rose from the ashes of England, Ireland, and Puerto Rico—a jagged haven called EquiV. A beacon for survivors. A graveyard for the hopeful.

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  On July 4, 2031, EquiV’s explorers found me. They stumbled into a crumbling building, its walls studded with bullet holes older than the war itself. Moss clung to shattered consoles, and the air reeked of rust and decay. Among the corpses of armored soldiers, I lay motionless—a relic trapped between death and something worse.

  They called it a miracle.

  I knew better.