Hwangagathalayante
Red Zone was a place that seemed to swallow light. Streets were cracked and empty, littered with debris and abandoned belongings. A thick, uneasy fog clung to the ground, twisting around streetlamps that flickered like dying stars. Every sound echoed unnaturally-footsteps, distant bangs, the whisper of the wind through broken windows. Danger hung in the air, heavy and invisible, making hearts pound and breaths shallow. The Red Zone was more than just a location; it was a test, a place where curiosity met fear, and only the brave-or desperate-dared to step inside.