Clans of the Fallen Earth

The world had once been a place of order and civilization. It had been vibrant, peaceful, and full of opportunity, but that was before the gangs. It had all happened so quickly-at first, it was just small-time thugs, scattered across neighborhoods, preying on the weak. But as time passed, things escalated. More and more gangs emerged, each with their own distinct territories, rules, and violent codes. They grew bolder, more aggressive. And before anyone could stop it, the world fell into chaos. Governments crumbled. Law enforcement disbanded. People ran, fought, and hid to survive. The once-thriving cities became ghost towns, controlled by ruthless warlords and their bloodthirsty clans.
In this new world, survival wasn't just about staying alive-it was about staying free.
Jaxon Hunter was a survivor.
At eighteen, Jaxon had learned early that the world had no mercy. His mother had died when he was young, and his father-a soldier-was taken by a gang when Jaxon was barely sixteen. The city had become a battlefield. The gangs ruled the streets. The strong preyed on the weak. Jaxon had grown up fast, his fists and feet the only thing keeping him alive. His skill in hand-to-hand combat had earned him respect among the other survivors. He could fight, and he could fight well. He'd learned from the best: his father, who had taught him everything he knew about combat before disappearing without a trace.
But what Jaxon didn't have was a place in this broken world. No friends, no family. No home. Just the endless search for a safe spot to sleep and something to eat.
The streets had become a jungle. Every corner was a potential battlefield, every alleyway a trap. He'd run into several gangs over the years, and while his fighting skills had kept him alive, he knew it was only a matter of time before he crossed the wrong one. He wasn't afraid, but he wasn't stupid either. He knew when to fight and when to run.
It was on one of those run-ins that his life changed forever.