Novel & Cerita Post-apocalyptic Fiction

"Six days. The first quake. Then the power. Then the collapse. You remember it differently than most—you lived it once already." The air left my lungs. "How do you—" "Because I'm like you." He leaned forward. "Not exactly. I didn't come back the same way you did. But I know what you are. And I know what's hunting you." I stared at him. "What are you talking about?" "You're a Hell Maiden, Emma." The words hung between us. I laughed. It came out sharp and disbelieving. "A what?" "Hell Maiden. The apocalypse doesn't just end the world. It opens doors. And women like you—who've been through fire and come out harder—you're the ones who walk through those doors changed."

Not only that, but the setting will be post-apocalyptic, where the survivors have varying degrees of psychic powers. Most people will have low-level abilities, such as telepathy and empathy. Some will have incredible powers able to manipulate the physical world with their minds, such as telekinesis and precognition. A handful will be able to literally warp what’s real with a thought (sometimes carelessly). The novel will explore similar themes of power and corruption, but mostly fresh ones regarding reality and perception. Specifically, the differences between natural reality vs manufactured reality, and truth vs disinformation. Kinda like what we’re seeing politically across the globe.

Thanks to an explosion that had occurred in a research lab, an unknown substance was leaked to the world. This was the start of the apocalyptic era, where humans could get infected by the substance, thus transforming into zombies. Three years after the zombie apocalypse started, I died in the maws of the zombies. To make things worse, my kindness was the reason behind my eventual death. Surprisingly enough, I was reborn to the timeframe where there were six hours left before the zombie outbreak began.

but somewhere along the way, the numbers had stopped mattering. I had seen hungry children fighting over stale bread. Mothers pretending not to be hungry and giving away their last piece of bread to their children to eat. Old soldiers who had bled for the kingdom sleeping in the mud as if their sacrifice didn’t matter. And now, I was staring at the ashes left behind by those who would rather burn the poor than lose power.

There’s nothing left but survival. I stared at the words, my mind spinning. The Burning. That’s what people called it now, the apocalyptic event that had scorched the earth and turned the world into a wasteland. But this person—this scientist—had known it was coming. They’d predicted it. And somehow, they’d ended up here, in this bunker, leaving behind their journal like a final warning. I looked up from the journal, my pulse quickening. This wasn’t just a storm shelter. This bunker had belonged to someone who had known about the end of the world before it happened. Someone who had tried—unsuccessfully—to stop it.

That was also why our security was the best in the whole city. I only found out in my last life that, after the world was hit by the deadly heatwave, a lot of desperate people showed up. In the apocalypse, humanity meant little. Everyone answered only to themselves. But our community was the only one that never got attacked by any looters, all thanks to the top-notch security forces here. It stayed safe until the scientists finally managed to build weather bombs strong enough to fight off the deadly heat, and the heatwave finally ended. Everyone in our community survived.

A light frown on my face would make him panic. I used to think I was the happiest woman in the world—until that familiar scar appeared in a trending post written by a woman who claimed she had given birth to her best friend's husband's child. It felt so surreal that I could barely believe it, yet the truth sat there on my screen, cruelly crushing everything I once believed.

"The delegation leaves in three days. We'll return with either alliance terms or relocation plans." That night, Maya received a message from the unknown number. First contact in over a week. *You found others. Thousands survived. The government endures. Civilization continues. But Maya—it's not the civilization you tried to save. It's built on triage, on calculated worth, on ruthless efficiency. Every major shelter implemented similar protocols. The survivors are the ones who were willing to make the hard choices. Your compassion didn't survive the apocalypse. Catherine's pragmatism did. The question is: what will you do about it? Accept the world that emerged from the ashes? Or fight to mak

As much as his mom tried to teach him, Meph gets into all kinds of trouble because he doesn’t know when to back off. Run when the hair on your arm stand up. That’s one of the many survival lessons she taught Meph. But she is no longer in the picture. She left him alone in this merciless, post apocalypse world. At least he won’t suffer the trembling fear when death knocks. Standing calmly in front of the door, Meph waits, an arm’s length away from the malicious voice. Rule number one of the Soul Trial: Everything can be a trial. A question. A conversation. Anything. And just like any trial, there is reward in passing, and punishment in failing.

Electric lamps illuminated quiet walkways, while children laughed in distant courtyards, unaware of the monsters that ruled the world beyond their borders. To them. The apocalypse was a story. To those who governed this place. It was a memory they refused to repeat. At the heart of the settlement stood the Council Citadel. Its towering white walls overlooked the entire city, its architecture untouched by war. Marble columns rose toward a vaulted ceiling where intricate murals depicted humanity's rise, its fall, and the solemn vow to preserve what remained.