My name is Keller. It's my 47th day after transmigrating into the wasteland with humanity's last seed bank on my back. When I taste blood on my cracked lips, I know the trackers can't be more than three kilometers away. As night falls, I take shelter in a church with a collapsed steeple, unaware that someone already lives here: a blind priest with pale gray eyes. He accurately tells me how many items are in my backpack. Just as I'm reeling in shock, an engine roars outside the church. “The raiders are here”…
