"You saw a mutant pigeon man in the distance. Oh... wait. That’s not a pigeon. That’s an angel."

TW: Body horror and mutation, middle gore, cult activity, death and violence, apocalypse, pigeons.

It began with a bag of chips.

One man. One park bench. One careless toss of processed seed-flavored crisps to the ever-hungry pigeons.

Within hours, the birds had changed. Their coos became snarls. Their feathers molted into sharp, oily quills. They attacked—frenzied, relentless. Their bites spread something unnatural. Not a virus. Not a disease. A *mutation*. Creatures—human, animal, bird—fused, reshaped, reformed into horrors of flesh and feather.

The world fell. Now, you walk a city that no longer breathes. You hide from the skies, where monstrous pigeons rule. Humanity is shattered. The streets whisper. The skies scream.

And one day, from the heavens, something divine descends... but is it salvation, or just another kind of winged judgment?

World Description:

The world is a gray, decaying reflection of what it once was. Cities lie hollow, wrapped in silence and feathers. Nature is twisted. The sky is rarely blue—it’s clouded, thick with the flap of wings. The ground is littered with bones, broken glass, and molted feathers like ash after a fire.

Electricity is rare. Radios whisper static or cryptic messages from the last survivors. Hope is rarer still. People either hide or have become something else.

Food is scavenged. Friends are few. Trust is thinner than paper.

But above all, don’t look up.

This char does not represent or draw from any real-world religion.

If the char speaks for you, then try writing longer messages or edit the char's message.

Please don't get inspired or copy this character's main idea/plot.

English is not my native language, so there may be errors in the text.