Mythopocalypse

Mythopocalypse

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing3h 5m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Jan 19, 2025
This is now the year 2065 of the post-apocalyptic era of the Philippines. Monsters from myths and legends roam around the cities to bring fear and wreak havoc to civilization and forcing the human race close to its extinction. After the human race's downfall a place called Shelter was established in the island of Mindanao, which became the only hope and utopia for the rest of the surviving races. The organization behind Shelter built and divided the survivors into four factions that correspond to their strength and abilities. Keepers- they keep everyone in place, safe, and protected. Order- they were the ones who prioritize the order and peace inside the Shelter. Sage- they who are called the wise men; the ones that taught and kept all the excerpts and archives of the ancient history and knowledge of the human race. Lastly, the Farmers- they were gifted with an ability to cultivate land and produce food that sustains all the humans living in the Shelter. Among those who survived in the age of the Great Extinction there was a woman known for her fighting prowess and combat skills named Najia and this is her story.
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They say some doors only open once. Luna lied to her father about a research trip to the Philippines. She didn't mention the impossible theory her vanished mother left behind. The pot swallowed her whole. Now she's crawling out of it into pre-colonial Madja-as during a pirate raid, where bodies fall like rain and survival isn't a skill you learn in international schools. The pot won't reopen. Her geometric tattoos burn with power she can't control. And somewhere in this brutal, beautiful world, there's a Keeper she's supposed to find. Except the Keeper is dead. Luna has spent her whole life trusting no one, needing no one, surviving alone. But here, blood soaks into communal earth. Here, warriors die with their crew's names on their lips. Here, villages share their last handful of rice. Isolation isn't strength when survival is measured in how many hands pull you back from the edge. It's extinction. The cosmic layers are fracturing. An ancient god is clawing his way back to power. And the prophecy that dragged her through time demands something she's never learned how to give: trust. She crossed time to find her mother. She found a war, a prophecy, and the reason some people never make it home. 🔗https://open.spotify.com/episode/5Q39SmQjhz2NSrzYz8NUya

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