The next day.
The soft morning sunlight seeped through the gaps in the worn window curtains, illuminating the room with warm golden light.
Azlan opened his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed on an unfamiliar ceiling—a simple white ceiling with small moisture stains in the corner.
"An unfamiliar ceiling... A soft mattress... Ah, I see... Yesterday wasn't just a dream."
He snapped out of his reverie. For the first time in his life, Azlan experienced undisturbed, sound sleep.
As far as he could remember, it was almost impossible for a civilian like him who grew up in a war zone to sleep soundly.
Missile explosions that shook the ground, bullet shots that roared through the air, the rumble of tanks rolling through destroying houses, the screams of fear and helplessness from civilians fleeing the massacre by occupying soldiers—all those sounds were heard every day without giving people a pause to breathe easy.
Being able to sleep one to two hours was already something to be grateful for, often with one eye open, ready to jump from a shabby tent.
"Hmph! I'm remembering bad experiences again."
Grumbling irritably, Azlan shook his head to dispel those shadows of the past. Getting up from the still-warm mattress, he stretched his stiff body.
Feeling an urgent call of nature, he left the room and walked to the staff bathroom in the back corridor.
Although the electricity was still out, water still flowed freely from the tap, thanks to the rainwater source stored in a large tank on the convenience store's roof.
"Maybe the owner of this convenience store wanted to save money, so he chose this method. Well, the end result benefits me. That water supply is useful for my hygiene."
He appreciated the unexpected wisdom.
In the bathroom, Azlan relaxed once his bladder was empty, the pressure in his stomach vanishing instantly. He flushed the toilet with water from a backup bucket, then moved to the sink.
Washing his face with refreshing cold water, he wet his hair that hadn't been shampooed in who knows how long—thick hair that now stuck wetly to his forehead.
In the dull mirror hanging on the wall, his reflection showed a teenage boy with olive-toned skin, his dark brown hair with a thick and slightly wavy texture that made him look wild but attractive.
His nose was prominent with a characteristic Middle Eastern shape, large eyes of deep dark brown that looked sharp, full of alertness born from years of survival.
In short, Azlan's appearance fell into the handsome man category, with firm facial lines. However, he wasn't aware of that fact because handsomeness meant nothing in a war zone like his occupied country—there, what mattered was running speed and survival ability, not beauty or handsomeness.
After washing his face, Azlan turned off the tap and stared at his reflection once more in the mirror. His gaze now shifted from his face to his body.
"Huh, it's truly a miracle I could kill those twenty zombies with a weak body like this. No, the complicated terrain preventing the zombies from surrounding me was the biggest factor in my victory."
He acknowledged that luck and strategy played a major role, not just his strength alone.
As soon as he removed his shirt, he let out a long sigh, his gaze sweeping over his pitiful body. That sight, though he had seen it often, always succeeded in triggering bitter feelings.
His body, which should still be growing and developing, was instead thin and malnourished, his ribs clearly protruding beneath his skin. Worse still, the body was covered with scars from various causes that became silent witnesses to the cruelty he had experienced: a bullet wound lodged in his right shoulder, a long gash from a knife slash on his back, a stab wound in his thigh, even a dog bite mark wrapped around his leg.
Each wound had its own story, a dark tale he never wanted.
At the age of ten, Azlan was captured by occupying soldiers. Since then, inhumane torture became part of his daily life.
Beatings were commonplace, not being fed for several days until nearly dying of starvation, being shocked with low-voltage electricity that made his body convulse, and they even released vicious dogs to tear apart his small body.
He endured all that torture while the soldiers of the occupying nation laughed uproariously, as if he were the most entertaining circus show.
"Ugh... Remembering that makes my old wounds hurt." Azlan groaned softly, feeling phantom pain from old wounds.
He tried to dispel that memory, shaking his head vigorously.
"Forget it, don't remember again."
He forced himself to forget those bad memories, a self-defense mechanism he had honed for years.
Next, Azlan removed his remaining clothes until naked. He stepped under the shower, letting the cold water flow washing his body, cleansing the dirt from his body.
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Bathing necessities were fully available in that convenience store; fragrant soap, shampoo that produced lots of foam, mint-flavored toothpaste, a new toothbrush, clean towels, and so on. Azlan used them without burden, enjoying every touch of small luxury he hadn't felt in a long time.
Soap scraped away the grime that stuck, shampoo cleaned his thick hair, and the toothbrush felt foreign yet refreshing in his mouth.
As for his old clothes, they were already worn, dirty, and unusable. He no longer wanted to wear remnants of a past full of suffering.
After finishing bathing and drying his body, Azlan returned to the staff room. He searched through the lockers, and was lucky to find one set of men's clothing: a plain gray cotton t-shirt and loose cargo pants. The size was a bit too big, but comfortable and most importantly clean.
The next task was to make breakfast, filling his stomach after a sound sleep. With a fire starter that was merchandise, Azlan went up to the convenience store's roof.
There, he lit a small fire on top of a concrete slab sheltered from the wind. He boiled water in a small pot found in the warehouse, then cooked instant noodles mixed with pieces of canned sausage.
Azlan wanted to add eggs, but after checking them, he found that all the eggs in the convenience store were already rotten, emitting a foul smell.
While waiting for the noodles to cook, Azlan looked up at the sky.
"The weather today is clear... Ah, so peaceful..."
The clean blue sky stretched wide above him, white clouds moving slowly, and the morning sunlight felt warm on his skin. In contrast to the commotion below, this convenience store rooftop felt like a small hidden paradise.
Ignoring the faint growling of zombies heard from the street below—tangible proof that the world outside was still hell—Azlan ate three cups of cup noodles.
For him, this was the most peaceful day he had experienced since... who knows when. A rare and precious moment of tranquility.
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"Today I'm lucky to find tomatoes and mangoes. Really, it's so hard to find houses that plant vegetable or fruit gardens in the yard."
Azlan muttered softly to himself, his nimble fingers picking ripe red tomatoes from their vining plant.
He was in the backyard of a house in a now-deserted residential area, wearing tactical clothing he found at a clothing store—loose field uniforms, giving him mobility as well as protection.
Deftly, he put those tomatoes, along with several other green vegetables he managed to find, into his backpack that was starting to fill up.
The orange shadow in the western horizon began to lengthen, dragging the remnants of daylight.
"The sun is almost setting. I must return as quickly as possible. If not, it's impossible for me to pass the zombies at night." He reminded himself.
Night was the domain of the living dead, with deteriorating vision but sharpening hearing, making it far more dangerous to move. Moreover, they would become very aggressive at night as if injected with adrenaline.
It had been 30 days since he washed up in the country he believed was called Japan.
How did Azlan know?
Clues came from billboards and street signs using the alphabet. The location of the convenience store that became his base turned out to be in Suginami District, Tokyo. Currently, he was exploring the residential area around it, expanding his search radius for fresh vegetables and fruits.
He knew how important it was to maintain health. If he continued to eat instant noodles and canned sausages without additional vitamin intake from fruits and vegetables, Azlan would suffer from illness sooner or later.
Don't talk about how difficult it was to get medical treatment in the post-zombie apocalypse era—he hadn't even met a single person who was still alive so far!
Whether all the native residents had been infected into zombies, or all the native residents had left Japan, and all countries in the world isolated this country so the outbreak wouldn't spread, Azlan didn't know the truth.
What he could guarantee was that illness was a death sentence that must be avoided by any means.
Tying his bag, he left the yard, preparing to run before darkness swallowed Suginami District.
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Azlan returned safely without experiencing any incidents, his backpack full of fresh tomatoes, ripe mangoes, and several green vegetables he picked from the yards of empty houses.
The evening sky that was starting to turn orange greeted him as he slipped through the safe route he had mapped, nimbly avoiding zombie hordes.
After 30 days surviving in Suginami District, Tokyo, he had carefully determined safe and dangerous routes. So, there was no need to fight zombies that provided no benefit whatsoever—he preferred to avoid rather than waste energy on futile battles.
"Now, what flavor of noodles should I cook tonight, huh..." He muttered while smiling tiredly, standing at the special instant noodle rack in the convenience store that now became his fortress.
Finally, he randomly chose one pack of spicy curry flavor, then went up to the convenience store's roof to cook, like his nightly routine. The cool night air greeted his face as he lit a small fire, boiling water in a simple pot.
On the roof, he brewed instant coffee while waiting for his noodles to cook, warm steam rising temptingly to his nose.
"Haaah... Am I the last person in Japan? Should I prepare a wandering plan? Maybe the survivors are hiding in shelters located underground. That's why they didn't see the SOS I made or see the smoke when I cooked."
Humans are social creatures, and loneliness and solitude for a long time affect mental health. Azlan was no exception; that's why he often talked to himself.
At first, he was fine alone without anyone to talk to, but over time, loneliness began to gnaw at his sanity, making him question everything.
"Haaah... If only there were a dog or cat to be a pet, I wouldn't be like this." He sighed bitterly, letting out a long breath.
Shaking his head, Azlan opened the lid of the noodles that were already cooked, preparing to eat.
"Hm? Why did the sky suddenly darken? An unusual weather phenomenon."
He was startled by dark clouds covering the sky as far as the eye could see, as if a storm could come at any time, erasing the stars that were beginning to appear.
*BOOOOOM!*
*RUMBLE!*
"Earthquake?!"
When Azlan was preparing to enter the convenience store to avoid the rain, the ground shook violently and the sky rumbled accompanied by lightning striking repeatedly.
"Huuu... Will I die here?"
Volcanoes, typhoons, earthquakes—these three disasters were all explosions of energy, natural disasters whose power was extremely shocking.
Now, Azlan faced one of these three major natural disasters. No matter how much he wanted to stay alive, it was futile and meaningless in the face of relentless natural disasters.
"Maybe dying isn't so bad. In the afterlife, I hope to meet my family members. This 30-day experience is an interesting story I can tell them."
He smiled bitterly as he resigned himself to his life and death. Suddenly, the rumbling stopped instantly.
"Huh?"
*WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!*
*WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!*
*WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!* *WHOOSH!*
Before understanding what happened, Azlan was amazed to see the sky split like torn cloth, from inside the gap many balls of light fell and shot in various directions, illuminating the night like a falling star shower.
*WHOOSH!*
One ball of light shot toward the stunned Azlan, its speed like a heavenly arrow.
"Oh shit! Something's falling here!"
With no time to dodge, Azlan could only watch the ball of light fall right on the convenience store roof, then closed his eyes.
The devastating impact he awaited didn't happen; he slowly opened his eyes that were shut in fear. How shocked he was, the ball of light landed gently without causing damage to the concrete roof, only five meters away from him.
"What is that? I hope there's no radiation."
Realizing there was a risk in approaching something unknown, Azlan gritted his teeth and examined it carefully.
Clearly, this celestial phenomenon was not ordinary—perhaps this was the advantage he needed in this zombie-filled world.
"What a large jewel..."
From behind the transparent light, he saw a soccer ball-sized blue jewel inside it, radiating a mysterious aura.
Hesitating for a moment, he reached out his hand to touch the ball of light.
*BUZZ!*
The next moment, the ball of light shone blindingly bright, Azlan tried to retreat but it was too late. Then, a name appeared in his mind, clear and echoing like a voice from within his soul:
Sacred Gear Divine Dividing!