Geneva, Switzerland – The Aeternum Project
Dr. Elias Moreau had spent fifteen years chasing eternity. The world called him a visionary, but his colleagues whispered a darker truth—that he was a man obsessed. At Aeternum Laboratories, deep within a classified subterranean facility beneath the Swiss Alps, he stood at the helm of a project meant to cure mortality itself.
"We have done it," his lead researcher, Dr. Yvonne Krüger, whispered, staring at the pulsating crimson liquid in the containment chamber. "Elias, this is it. A self-replicating, regenerative bio-serum. We are staring at the key to human evolution."
The vial before them shimmered under artificial light. Unlike normal blood, this substance moved—twisting, pulsing, as though it had a heartbeat of its own. The serum, known as Project E-47, was designed to reprogram cellular decay, effectively granting biological immortality. A single injection had revived lab rats, restored withered cells, even regrown missing limbs.
But beneath the excitement, a truth lurked—one that no one wanted to acknowledge. The serum was learning. Changing. Adapting in ways they hadn't predicted.
"We need to delay human trials," Krüger insisted, unease creeping into her voice. "The serum is showing anomalous behavior. If we rush—"
Moreau silenced her with a look. "The world is waiting, Yvonne. The investors expect results. Tomorrow, we move forward."
The next morning, they injected the first test subject.
By midnight, the world began to change.
New York City – 24 Hours After Exposure
Detective Marcus Cole had seen plenty of horrors in his time—gang wars, overdoses, arson, even a suicide cult that thought they could commune with angels through fire. But none of it prepared him for this.
The first victim was found in an alley off 9th Avenue. A John Doe, naked and drenched in something thick, red, and alive. His skin had split in places, but there was no blood—only a deep pulsing crimson glow beneath his torn flesh.
"Jesus Christ…" his partner, Eva Santiago, muttered as they crouched beside the body.
Then the corpse twitched.
Marcus had no time to react before the thing lunged—not like a man, but like something boneless, fluid, stretching toward them with too many limbs.
The first Crimsonborn had awakened.
Tokyo, Japan – The Red Rain Begins
Thousands of miles away, in Shinjuku's neon-lit streets, the rain came red.
At first, it was dismissed as pollution, a rare atmospheric phenomenon. But when droplets touched skin, those infected froze, their bodies convulsing as the infection spread through their veins, turning their blood into something alive.
Panic spread through the crowded cityscape. In train stations, in department stores, in alleyways—people collapsed, only to rise again minutes later, their bodies reshaped, their faces frozen in silent agony.
Within hours, Tokyo was no longer a city.
It was a hunting ground.
London, England – The Government's Last Broadcast
From a war room beneath Whitehall, Prime Minister James Fairchild watched as reports flooded in—Moscow was burning, Beijing had fallen silent, Paris was drowning in blood.
"We can't contain this," his Defense Secretary said, voice hollow.
Fairchild turned to the camera before him. The world was watching. For how much longer, he did not know.
"To all citizens—this is not a virus. This is not a war. This is the end of our world as we knew it. If you are hearing this, do not attempt to fight. Do not attempt to flee to major cities. Find shelter. Find others. And pray that humanity still has a future."
The screen went black.
And then, the screaming began.
Aftermath – The Age of Crimson
In the span of seventy-two hours, civilization crumbled.
Governments fell. Cities bled. The oceans turned dark, and the air reeked of death.
The Crimsonborn—immortal, relentless, ever-growing—had claimed the Earth.
And from the ruins of mankind, something new began to rise.