In six months, the world will be purified. An ominous prophetic dream experienced by all of humanity.
Loris won't miss it. He had enough of living like a vermin in this society obsessed with genetic potency and worthiness. This one restricted him to the lowest dregs of the categorized population for no better reason than the circumstances of his birth. A meritocracy? Bullshit.
Ok, maybe he had failed once or twice. Maybe more, but it didn't matter. Not since that apocalyptic warning had restored snippets of a long-shattered pride. Only the chosen ones would survive, and he intended to stand among them—No matter the cost.
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