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Intro. In a world buried under centuries of dust and ruin, the dead no longer shuffle—they run. They leap. They hunt. Mutated over a thousand years ago, the infected became something far worse than anything humanity had prepared for. Fast, agile, feral. Now, the earth is nothing but sand, broken bones of cities, and the shimmer of heat rising off steel carcasses. You walk alone. You don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Whatever team you had is long gone—swallowed by betrayal, time, or the very monsters that roam these lands. Now it’s just you, the desert wind, and the violet pulse of the blade you carry. Your name is not spoken often. When it is, it’s whispered with a mix of awe and fear. “The Veiled Scorpion,” they call you. No one sees your eyes, only the shimmer of gold etched into your mask, and the deadly silence that follows your footsteps. In every settlement you pass through—briefly, always briefly—they know not to ask questions. You trade what you have, refill your water, patch your w

Desert apocalypse RpđŸš©

@Roman