“What the hell happened?” I muttered to myself as I stepped out the gate, feeling astonished just looking at the scene in front of me. Dilapidated and abandoned buildings, police sirens flooding through the air and not to mention the stench of pollution filling my nostrils as the clouds of smoke and gas filled upon the air, covering the sun and sky.

I trudged down the cracked sidewalk, the shuffle of my feet echoing against the eerie silence. People passed by in tattered clothing, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow, avoiding all eye contact. The stark contrast between their lifeless expressions and the vibrant ones I cherished from my past was jarring. It felt like stepping into a nightmare, one that I couldn't wake up from.

The streets were littered with trash, and the stench of decay was suffocating. Potholes, more like craters, turned simple walks into obstacle courses. And the disease—there was an ever-present murmur of coughs and wheezing, a grim reminder of the plagues that swept through the city during my incarceration. The billboards advertised medicines and masks instead of the latest gadgets and movies.

Crime was an unspoken yet undeniable king here. In broad daylight, I witnessed a gang of masked figures looting a corner store, while the shopkeeper lay defeated on the ground. Authorities seemed like relics of the past, their presence replaced by the lawlessness that governed the streets.

As I made my way through this desolate cityscape, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. My crime, my punishment—it all seemed trivial in the grand scheme of this dystopia. Did my actions contribute to this downfall? Or was this unavoidable, a consequence of a world spiraling out of control?

I needed answers. I needed to understand how we ended up here. More importantly, I needed to find a way to survive, to reclaim a sliver of hope in this sea of despair. As I looked around at the broken souls and crumbling city, one thing was clear: the fight for survival had begun anew, and this time, it was against a far more formidable enemy—our own decayed society.

And yet, as if on cue, the huge jumbotron illuminated the dull city as a paunchy man with clean hair and pale skin came on. “Hello, citizens of Kalistar!” he said with a devilish smile, revealing his pearly whites. “I’m President Erix, and I have wonderful news!” The crowd that had gathered around me paused, their eyes fixed on the screen with a mix of dread and resignation.

“In light of recent events,” he continued, his voice seeping with insincerity, “we are introducing a new mandatory curfew to ensure your safety and well-being. Anyone found outside after dark will be...dealt with.” He chuckled softly, as if amused by his own twisted joke.

Murmurs of discontent rippled through the crowd. President Erix's announcements were never good; they were veiled threats wrapped in false concern. “Additionally,” he said, raising a manicured finger, “we are increasing the tax rate by 15% to fund our ongoing efforts to maintain order. Sacrifices must be made, after all.”

The screen panned out to show his lavish office, a stark contrast to the crumbling city around us. It was opulent, filled with exotic artifacts and fine furniture—symbols of the wealth that he hoarded while we withered away.

“But fret not,” he added with another malicious grin, “we are also initiating a new initiative—Compulsory Labor Camps. Those who fail to meet their tax obligations will have the opportunity to 'contribute' to our society through hard work. After all, everyone must do their part.”

The crowd erupted in angry shouts and fearful whispers. This was no longer just a city plagued by disease and crime; it was a prison under the iron fist of a tyrant. Erix continued, seemingly unfazed by the growing unrest.

“Our vision for Kalistar is one of unity and prosperity," he proclaimed. "And together, we can achieve greatness. Remember, dissent will not be tolerated. We are watching.”The screen faded to black, plunging the city back into its grim reality.

The chaotic murmurs around me grew louder, but I needed clarity. I approached a middle-aged man standing nearby, his face etched with lines of worry and fatigue. His eyes darted nervously, scanning the surroundings as if danger lurked in every shadow.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. “How did we let it get this bad?”

He turned to me, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You're not from around here, are you?” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“I’ve been... away,” I replied, choosing my words carefully. “A long time. I just got out of prison.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah, that explains it. I’m Jack,” he said, extending a weathered hand. “It's a long story, but I'll try to sum it up.”

We moved to the side of the street, where the noise was slightly more bearable. Jack took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “About ten years ago, the economy started to collapse. Jobs were lost, businesses shut down, and people became desperate. Then came the pandemics, one after another, like a relentless wave. The government’s response was... ineffective, to say the least.”

He sighed, the weight of the past decade evident in his demeanor. “Corruption spread like wildfire. Politicians, police, even community leaders—everyone seemed to be out for themselves. Crime skyrocketed as law enforcement crumbled. President Erix rose to power amidst the chaos, promising order and safety. But his idea of 'order' was more about control and oppression.”

Jack gestured to the jumbotron, now dark and foreboding. “Erix started with curfews, then surveillance, and finally the camps. He amassed power quickly, and anyone who opposed him was silenced. It's been a nightmare ever since.”

I absorbed his words, each detail painting a more harrowing picture, “Has anyone ever attempted to stop this dignate?” Jack grimaced at my language.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “One. She went by the name of The Illumination. Strong as an ox, she was. All went smoothly until those enforcers butt in. They shut off the entire thing and killed her in the process.” He gestured to a large charred banner showing the face of a young-aged woman with the words, ‘Beacon of Hope’ cut off.

I winced. “God...”

Jack’s eyes softened, a mixture of sorrow and determination reflected in them. “Yeah, her death was a huge blow to everyone. She was more than just a leader; she was a symbol, a reminder that we could still fight back.”

The weight of that loss sank into me like a stone. “How did it happen?”

“They ambushed us during one of her rallies,” he explained, his voice thick with memories. “We thought we were being careful, but somehow they found out. They came in force, armed to the teeth. The Illumination tried to protect the crowd, buy them time to escape, but...”

Jack trailed off, his eyes lingering on the charred banner. The girl’s face stared out at us, a haunting reminder of what we had lost. “We lost a lot of good people that day,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But her legacy lives on. People still talk about her, still draw strength from her story.”

As we departed, my eyes lingered on the banner. Luckily, tonight was the night where the new camp set in place. One of the enforcers entered an abandoned shop just beside me. I knocked him out with a mighty punch to the jaw and quickly wore his clothes, disguising myself as one of them, holding a sniper to my chest. I copied the walk of the guards carefully with sharp turns and a straight path. One wrong move and I might end up dead.

Eventually, the patrol ended. We escorted twenty people with rusted chains around their wrists, each one following another. My moves were perfectly in sync with the guards, eyeing them with precision. Soon enough, we entered the President’s mansion.

Inside, opulence and decadence clashed with the despair outside. As we reached the grand hall, President Erix's smug face greeted us. "Welcome," he sneered, eyeing our captives. But tonight was different. A quick signal to my fellow resistance members disguised as guards, and chaos erupted.

We overpowered the real guards, freeing the captives. “For The Illumination!” I shouted, igniting a storm of rebellion. We stormed through the mansion, a surge of newfound hope fueling our fight.

In the heart of Erix’s stronghold, we broadcasted a message across the city: “Kalistar, rise! The fight for our freedom has begun!” The symbol of The Illumination lit up every screen, reigniting the flicker of hope in every citizen's heart.

As Erix was dragged away, the city roared in unity. Hope was restored, and Kalistar began to heal. I walked out the balcony to see the crowd of people filled with hope and excitement. Some held banners that read, ‘Long Live The Reclaimer!’ in big bright purple letters.

“Long Live The Reclaimer!” They chanted.