Who Dares Call Themselves King in the Wasteland?

Across the wasteland, zombie hordes roll like waves, resources are paid for in blood, and human hearts are more toxic than radiation. Ya Jiu roams the dead city alone, a rusted blade on his back. Ye Tang clutches the last tube of clean water, whispering in a shadowy alley. They were enemies, but a buried shelter containing vaccines from the old world forces them to travel together. There are no saviors, only survivors; no thrones, only beasts forging ahead over piles of bones. When the council army aims its orbital cannon at the last oasis, and mutants hum human songs beneath the moonlight, whose answer to the apocalypse will prevail: Ya Jiu’s blade or Ye Tang’s medicine?