Novel & Cerita Sci-fi Post Apocalyptic

Dozens of labs, collapsing in the wake of Eira’s crusade. But at the center? A pulse. Not energy. Time. “They’re accelerating something,” Tobias said. “A rift.” Nina nodded slowly. “They’re going to tear the world. Create a second plane — where only those with enhanced minds can survive.” “A psychic apocalypse,” Elara whispered. “Exactly,” Tobias confirmed. “They want to force evolution.” Ophelia stood. “Then we don’t wait.” “We go to the Core.” “We burn them out.” Everyone rose.

Warning: contains dark erotica themes such as non-consensual and/or violent sex Enter at your own risk! The Earth African Continent, Johannesburg Year: 2071 A deadly and extremely contagious synthetized virus breaks out into the world, swiftly taking the lives of millions... The entire society of the planet fastly collapses into a pit of constant war and chaos, reduced to their early ancestors’ primal behavior... Maddened by the fear of facing a violent and excruciatingly painful death caused by the novel virus, Earth’s inhabitants immediately succumb to a reality of savagery, guided by the basic instinct of survival.

The world slowly returned to normal. But the heat-damaged soil would take decades, maybe centuries or even millennia to recover. Everyone had to keep wearing cooling suits just to survive. The shelter continued growing as people established a city around it. Three years after the apocalypse, individual nations had ceased to exist. All races now lived together as one. Dozens of representatives formed an organization called the Federation to lead us. There was no discrimination, only the mutual understanding of survivors who'd lived through hell together. Everyone worked together and had enough to eat. The problem was that most of Earth's plants and animals had mutated after the extreme heat.

“You burned them out of the sky, Weaver. You did it. They are gone. The sky is clear, Winnie. You can let go now.” ​I tried to sit up, but the world spun in a sickening orbit. The gravity of the earth felt like a physical chain, dragging my spirit back into the dirt. I looked past him, out toward the city. The Scrapyard was a graveyard of twisted, glowing metal. The great tripods were nothing more than slag heaps, cooling in the morning air. But as I looked further, I saw the lights. The residential sectors were still flickering. The people were emerging from the bunkers, their faces upturned to a sky that was no longer a cage. The city had survived the harvest, even if its soul had been sco

But against a natural disaster, none of that made them any less vulnerable. There was no fighting something that powerful. One sandstorm had nearly torn them apart for good. They got lucky this time, but what about next time? The thought left Nicole shaken and more anxious than ever. Zeph was thinking the same thing. In the apocalypse he had lived through before, there were no satellites falling from the sky, no volcanic eruptions, and no sandstorms. But this time, one unexpected disaster after another kept hitting. He and Nicole had no idea what was coming anymore. They knew nothing about the disasters still ahead, and surviving them would come down to luck.

of themselves from 3 seconds ago. The HumResidual Trinity-frequency in the soil.A global insomnia affecting 40% of the population. Material DriftObjects "forgetting" their density.Building foundations becoming porous or liquid. The Scarcity War With the high-tech "Miracles" of the Architects gone, the world reverted to a brutal reality: Resources. The "Slow-Glass" humans and the "Accelerant" Mimics, no longer unified by the threat of erasure, began to bicker over the remaining "Amber Hives." The hives were the only source of clean water and electricity, but they were failing without the Trinity-link.

"How could two Special Operations Teams completely lose contact?" Mirelle shook his head, a look of guilt in his eyes. "After arriving at the hospital, one of the teams lost contact during the latter half of last night. Ever since the apocalypse began, frequent solar flares have caused widespread electromagnetic pulse effects across the entire Blue Star. The transport plane carrying the other team happened to encounter one and tragically crashed.

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.

She was consumed by questions, by fears, by possibilities. The storm was not natural. The frost was not an accident. It was a weapon. Who would create such a weapon? Who would deploy it? Who would destroy the world, kill billions of people, reduce civilization to rubble? And why? She thought about the apocalypse, about the chaos, about the death. She thought about the survivors, the communities, the bunkers. She thought about Vance, about his empire, about his army. She thought about the Black Sun, about Kane, about his plans.

He looked at the carnage around him, his face a blank slate of shock. And that’s when it hit me. The final, fragile illusion of society, of order, of help, shattered into a million pieces. This wasn’t a riot. This wasn’t a temporary crisis. The men in biohazard suits, the chained gurneys, the bloody cough, the biting… the gunshot executing the infected. This was the end. The world wasn’t going crazy. The world was gone. This island, this hospital, this room—this was the new world. Shit. This is the apocalypse.