The Collapse began in 2069.
Hospitals started seeing more cases of sudden violence, seizures, and extreme pain in the head. Emergency lines were overwhelmed. Security footage showed people moving stiffly, attacking without warning, and staring through others without recognition.
Officials said it was stress, drug abuse, or isolated incidents. Travel continued. Work continued. The infection spread while people argued about what it was.
By the time authorities named the disease, it was already in major cities on every continent. Governments released conflicting reports. Some hid the scale of the damage. Public broadcasts claimed things were under control. At the same time, videos of riots, hospital attacks, and soldiers firing on civilians spread online. Trust in public leadership collapsed fast.
Emergency plans failed. Quarantines were too small. Curfews did not stop people inside packed buildings. Borders closed after the virus had already crossed them through trade, travel, and troop movement. Power grids and food systems could not function once workers fled or fell sick. Cities lost connection to each other. Nations failed at the same time.
The disease became known as the Z-Virus, or Shambler Virus.
It attacked the brain first. Early victims could still talk and follow instructions, but many felt crushing pressure in their skulls and sudden waves of anger. Some attacked friends or family without knowing why. Sedatives and restraints worked only briefly.
As the infection progressed, people lost their sense of self. They stopped recognizing faces and places. They reacted only to sound, heat, and movement. They attacked without concern for pain or injury. Wounds that would stop a healthy person barely slowed them.
At this stage, they were no longer treated as patients. They were labeled shamblers.
Their bodies changed over time. Muscles grew unevenly. Joints twisted. Fingers and jaws warped. Growths appeared along the spine and skull. No two cases looked the same. Doctors and researchers died, disappeared into sealed facilities, or destroyed their work to prevent misuse. Hospitals became infection traps. Refugee centers collapsed into slaughter zones.
In 2069, New Vance City was crowded and modern. It relied on trains, elevators, and dense housing.
The first cases appeared near major transit lines. Authorities isolated patients and issued calm updates. For a short time, people believed the city would survive.
That belief ended quickly.
The virus spread through buses, trains, and towers faster than anyone could track. Medical staff collapsed while working. Police lost control of quarantined neighborhoods. Curfews were ignored by desperate crowds. Violence broke out when rumors spread about secret evacuations and protected elites.
Shamblers multiplied fast. Narrow streets jammed with abandoned vehicles blocked emergency response. Fires burned unchecked. Entire buildings fell in a single day. Communication failed in bursts as power and staff vanished. Many people realized their district was abandoned only when help stopped coming.
At its lowest point, New Vance was close to being lost completely.
Survivors from city administration, industry, and armed groups formed an emergency alliance. They did not trust each other. They shared one goal: keep part of the city alive.
They accepted a hard truth. They could not save everyone.
They pulled back from the worst districts and sealed them off. These areas were abandoned. No rescues followed. Supplies stopped. The remaining forces focused on defending a smaller core.
This decision saved the city. It also condemned thousands.
From this moment, the Accord was formed.
Record keepers and coordinators became the Citadel Council. Engineers who kept power running became the Solar Guardians. Water workers who secured treatment systems became the Hydro Hegemony. Armed patrols holding walls and roads became the Perimeter Watch. Each faction tied its authority to what it had done during the Collapse.
By 2070, the first wave ended.
Large areas of the world were gone. Around New Vance, ruined suburbs and infected zones formed a deadly buffer. Inside the walls, basic order returned. Outside, shamblers, raiders, cults, and stranger groups took over the ruins.
For those still living in the city, the Collapse is not history. It explains every rule and restriction. Families remember who never came home. Neighborhoods remember who sealed gates and withdrew forces. People still argue over whether the Accord made the right choices.
The virus still exists. Treatments are rare and expensive. Many believe a bite means death no matter what doctors say. Small outbreaks still occur near the edges. Shamblers still test the walls.
Every faction points to the Collapse to justify its power. Ordinary people measure those claims against their losses. Everyone understands the same truth: the world ended once, and the reasons it ended are still present.
The year after the Collapse was not recovery. It was survival.
The survivors of Vance County either fled or stayed. Those who stayed built walls from burning cars and scrap. Ammunition ran out. Tools became weapons. The fires bought time.
New Vance survived because parts of its infrastructure still worked. Power lines, water systems, and tunnels held together longer than expected. In a dead world, this made the city valuable.
Old rivalries stopped mattering. Engineers, soldiers, smugglers, and security forces formed the First Accord. Duties were divided. The Citadel managed records and oversight. The Solar Guardians restored power. The Hydro Hegemony controlled water. The Perimeter Watch held the line.
Within a year, New Vance became a harsh city ruled by factions. Markets reopened under armed watch. Safe zones lit up again. Not because people believed things would improve—but because they refused to die.