Half a century ago, a global nuclear war broke out without warning.

In addition to black and white, all that remains of the planet is the dark green and demonic pupils of various mutated creatures in the endless wilderness, and the dark red and sticky blood of the people of the wilderness.

In this wilderness where radiation and mutated creatures are ubiquitous, food and fuel are more precious than human life. Killing, devouring, and evolving are the only main themes in this wasteland.

The gray sky, the gloomy cellar, the rough cellar door, the narrow iron window.

"Is there really a dawn like a rosy caressing?"

The figure curled up in the corner of the dark and damp cellar opened his eyes slightly, looking through the small window on the mottled wall, looking out of the window at the gray sky with countless green dots.

He was puzzled by the description of dawn in old books.

He remembered the moment when decades had passed since the nuclear war, the dawn of the rosy caress had long since been buried deep under the endless ruins and rays of the old era, and the new era had already begun.

"Let old Pat see if you lucky cockroach still need the delicious bread that Old Pat worked so hard to get!"

A sound like a broken gong suddenly came from outside the heavy cellar door, and the mottled steel bars of the cellar were haphazardly welded together, and the door of the cellar, which fully rendered the violent aesthetics of the old era, was vigorously pushed open.

A narrow shadow was cast into the musty cellar, and the bloated figure of old Patna, wearing a worn cowboy hat, appeared at the door of the cellar punctually, once again blocking the only light source in the cellar.

"Hell! You can still catch your breath! Two mutant jackals can't kill you, thank you to that hateful God! You goddamn wilderness cockroach! ”

Old Pat, with an old-time flashlight in his hand, shone toward the gloomy cellar, the faint light flickering above the thin figure curled up in the dark corners of the cellar.

The figure in the corner of the wall was wrapped in a dirty blanket, his head hung down, and he couldn't see clearly. It's just that judging from that thin body, it should be a young child.

"Don't starve yourself to death until you earn enough gold for Angus! He'll throw you into the wilderness, and the hyena-like wilderness mob will gnaw you to the ground! ”

Old Pat cursed loudly, but he didn't forget to take a thin slice of bread the size of a palm, covered with turquoise mold, from his bosom and threw it on the damp floor of the cellar.

"Damn! I forgot again, you don't need such a big loaf of bread, what you need is drinking water! What a difficult uncle! ”

Old Pat stooped down with great difficulty to pick up the bread slices on the floor, and tore most of them with his big black grease stained hands. He fumbled in his pocket for a while, and finally pulled out a small plastic bottle, and threw it to the figure in the corner of the cellar, along with the bread sticks in his hand that could only be stuffed between his teeth.

"The other Beastfighters drink inferior water, I don't know what you're doing with this damn drinking water! Wash your butt? Ha ha! ”

Old Pat's weather-beaten old face sneered, spat heavily at the walls of the cellar, cursed in a low voice again, and turned to the door where simple beauty and violent beauty coexisted.

"That's right, boy! It is said that there will be a so-called dignitary arrival today, and these people who think they are high above always want to play with some strange thorns*. Angus has already commanded, your opponents today are two mutant wolves! Old Pat relented a little, you remind me of the grandson who died in the mob tide! This information is considered to be the compensation for the deduction of your food! Hope you see the sun tomorrow! Damn it! Where is the sun in these damned times! ”

Old Pat screamed at the top of his lungs as he squeezed out the door, not forgetting to turn around and slam the cellar door shut.

The thin figure huddled in the corner waited until the footsteps outside the iron door disappeared, then reached out and lifted the dirty blanket above his head, and slowly raised his head to look at the water and food that old Pat had thrown on the ground.

Deep black eyes, jet-black hair, pursed lips.

It's an Asian boy.

The boy stood up, walked to the cellar door, leaned over to pick up the drinking water, which barely moistened his lips, and turned his gaze to the breadsticks that had been thrown by the caretaker by the cellar wall.

A giant black ant the size of a thumb was holding aloft the spoiled loaf of bread, several times larger than its body, and quickly headed for the nest in the corner.

A wilderness filled with death rays, even an ant has mutated to such an extent.

The boy suddenly stretched out a slender and white finger, gently picked up the hideous mutant ant and pinched it between his fingers, slowly put it in his mouth, and swallowed it whole.

He waited a long time, and seeing that there was no more insect, before he stooped down to pick up the bread on the floor, and sat down again in a dark corner.

The boy sat in the corner and listened intently for a long time, until he was sure that there was no one else within a few dozen meters of him, and then he slowly removed the tattered blanket on his body and untied the small burden behind his back.

Inside the burden was a swaddling swaddle with his residual warmth, shabby but warm and dry, and a chubby little white hand slowly stretched out, waving wildly in the air, as if to caress the face of the boy who was close at hand.

The corners of the boy's mouth curled slightly, and a pair of black pupils as deep as the starry sky stared at the baby in swaddling clothes.

The baby was surprisingly quiet, her eyes as clear as sparkling sapphires, and she looked at the boy.

The boy took the bread that had expired for an unknown number of years in his hand, took it with great care, peeled off the surface of the bread that was covered with stains and mold, ate it, and then chopped the rest little by little and put it in the baby's mouth.

After the baby ate the small bread, the boy raised his head and drank the drinking water in the plastic bottle, tore the thin plastic bottle open, licked the water droplets that remained on the inner wall, and then looked down at the baby in his arms again, silently waiting.

It wasn't until the subtle needle* sensation in his abdomen finally disappeared that the boy lowered his head and pressed his chapped lips closer to the baby's tender face.

The baby seemed to be accustomed to this, and the two little hands tore at the boy's black hair, and with great difficulty tilted his head up and pressed his slightly open lips up, as if looking for sweet milk in the warm arms of his mother.

The slightly convex Adam's apple on the boy's neck slowly squirmed, and the drinking water he had drunk before was filtered by his stomach and was spit out by him little by little.

Except in cities or large agglomerations with water purification systems, it is basically impossible to find drinking water without radiation in the wasteland.

The boy continued to feed the baby water in this way after he met him.

Let her drink water without radiation since she was a child, and if she does not come into contact with the ubiquitous rays in the wasteland, she should not mutate.

This is also the reason why the boy, who is accustomed to wandering in the wilderness, is finally captured by this gathering place. At least, there was no terrible ray of the wilderness in this cellar.

As for what to do in the future, he didn't think about it. The people of the wilderness only look at the present, and never worry about what will happen in the future.

The wilderness, where the main style is to kill and devour evolution, has no future, and no one dares to say that they will definitely see the sun tomorrow.

After feeding the baby, the boy put her in the bag again and tied her to his back, and put the unrecognizable blanket over his body again.

Now, he had time to think about what he had to face tonight.

I don't know when the wolves in the wilderness no longer have jackals, maned wolves, and coyotes, and they are collectively called mutant wolves by the people of the wilderness. Despite the fact that there are countless mutant species in the wilderness, and even plants are faintly aggressive, the mutant wolf is definitely one of the most terrifying nightmares of homeless wilderness people.

Huge, bloodthirsty and ferocious, cunning and alert.

With half a cigar, a mutant wolf that has not yet reached adulthood can nibble away three rugged middle-aged homeless people. And those powerful mutant wolves can even slaughter a gathering place of hundreds of armed people on their own.

Provided, of course, that there are no supernatural beings in this gathering place.

Humans who survived the nuclear war began to evolve on a planet full of deadly radiation, just like other species. The Creator seems to have put all things back on the same starting line, starting a new round of brutal survival of the fittest.

Humans, who have been exposed to radiation for a long time, have begun to mutate in two completely different directions, just like other creatures.

Produce various limb aberrations, mutated tissues that spread until death, or produce various abilities and continue to evolve.

The former is called mutation, and the latter is called evolution.

On one side is hell, and on the other, it is not yet known whether it leads to heaven.

Two mutant wolves?

The boy did not think that Angus, the money-hungry and lustful owner of the Colosseum, would mercifully let two weak wolves fight him. The Colosseum wants profit, and the greater the disparity in strength, the greater the suspense, and the more excited those who sit in the high stands.

People who are in a state of excitement are always willing to shell out more money. This is strikingly similar to the old and new eras.

The boy bowed his head and was silent, his slender fingers reaching into his arms, and the cold bone touch slowly came from his fingertips.

In his arms was a sharp fang more than half a foot long that he secretly broke off when he was fighting with a mutant jackal.

The Colosseum is closed during the day to take care of customers who come from afar. After all, in a wilderness frequented by mutated creatures and hordes of mobs, it's almost impossible not to think of something unexpected.

On the other hand, mutant creatures will be more ferocious at night, and fighting beasts will become bloodier, more brutal, and more stingy*!

As the pale sun finally disappeared under the gray white canopy of the west, Old Pat's angry scolding like a broken gong finally sounded outside the cellar door.

The boy who sat in the dark corner of the cellar opened his eyes again, and his deep dark eyes seemed to shine as clear as diamonds.

The choice of life or death begins!