In the brief greenish light of the dying sun I saw a refraction of a three-eyed cat strangling me with grassy vines.
No, it felt more like the cat was digging into my mind, trying to find a "permit" or something. What did that cat want?
Preposterous! Green-three-eyed cats do not exist. I've never been strangled with plants. There are no trees left, no grass, no flowers.
I think my mind is rotting from the accursed mold. There are no cats in the sun rays. There is no boss. I lost Dillon. I don't know what to do without a boss...
Only me, and the city of the extinct.
Only me and my imagination.
How long has it been since I last saw another human being?
I cannot recall.
I cannot recall their faces.
Why can't I remember their faces?
All I see is dust and waves of fire.
Unending waves of fire shattering their already broken and twisted bodies into dust.
My brigade fell to the unmentionable horror and since then I've wandered the radioactive desert looking for...
What was I looking for? ...Hope? Other survivors?
I was about to collapse from exhaustion, about ready to give up on it all when a paper fluttered into my mask.
The wings of butterfly that caused a stormy uproar in my soul.
A map, drawn by a child's hand?
Is this to be my god-sent, final quest in life?
I dared to dream that it would lead me to a colony of survivors.
Where will this new current take me... I knew not.
Support "Romantically Apocalyptic Webcomic"
- Archbishop of Captania and sovereign territories
I was born in the year 1984, in the 4th most polluted city of Soviet Union.
On April 11/1997 fate has given me an unexpected twist and by means of aerial transportation I was dislocated 5555 miles across the Atlantic Ocean to Ontario, Canada, wherein I currently preside in an 1890 cathedral and partake in writing and drawing things.