No one noticed the end of men when it first began.
It started quietly, like a normal disease. A few men fell sick in different parts of the world—Asia, Europe, Africa, America. Doctors called it a virus. News channels talked about symptoms, precautions, and recovery rates. At first, people were not afraid. Humanity had seen worse.
They were wrong.
Within three months, hospitals were filled only with men. Strong men. Young men. Old men. Fathers, sons, brothers. One by one, they stopped breathing. Their hearts failed without warning. Their bodies simply gave up.
Women were not affected.
Scientists worked day and night. Medicines failed. Vaccines failed. Nothing worked. The virus attacked only one thing—something deep inside the human body, something that defined men.
The Y chromosome.
That was the day the world learned a new term.
Y-Chromosome Collapse Syndrome.
Within a year, men became rare.
Within two years, men became history.
And in the third year, I became the last one.
I didn't know it at first.
I was twenty-two when the world officially declared Male Extinction. I remember watching the announcement on an old television screen in my apartment. The woman on the news was calm, but her hands were shaking.
"After global confirmation," she said, "no living male has been found."
The screen went silent.
I dropped the glass in my hand. It shattered on the floor.
I was alive.
Breathing.
A man.
The final Y chromosome.
I don't know why I survived.
Doctors later said my blood was different. My genes showed an abnormal mutation. The virus entered my body, but it couldn't finish its job. Something inside me fought back.
At that time, I didn't feel special.
I felt scared.
Very scared.
Because I knew one truth—
The world would never let me live normally again.
At first, I hid.
I cut my hair short. I wore oversized clothes. I avoided cameras and crowds. I moved from city to city, using fake IDs. But it didn't last long. In a world of only women, even shadows looked suspicious.
They found me in Delhi.
I was sleeping in an abandoned metro station when bright lights hit my face. Armed women surrounded me—soldiers, scientists, officials. Their eyes widened the moment they confirmed it.
"A male," one of them whispered.
Not a man.
A male.
Like I was a rare animal.
They took me to a secured facility. Underground. Cold. White walls everywhere. Machines watched me more closely than humans ever had.
For weeks, they tested me.
Blood. Skin. Bone marrow. DNA.
They called me Subject Y-01.
Not by my name.
I asked them once, "Am I a prisoner?"
A scientist looked at me and replied honestly,
"No. You are humanity's last hope."
That scared me more than prison.
Outside those walls, the world was changing fast.
Governments collapsed and reformed. Countries led only by women rose and fell. Some celebrated the end of men, calling it freedom. Some mourned. Some feared extinction.
Because without men, reproduction became impossible.
Humanity had an expiration date.
And I was standing right in the middle of it.
Not all women wanted the same thing.
Some wanted to protect me.
Some wanted to study me.
Some wanted to control me.
And some… wanted to own me.
I could feel it in their eyes when they looked at me—not desire, not love—but need.
A dangerous kind of need.
One night, a woman entered my room alone.
She wore a military uniform. Her face was calm, but her eyes were tired.
"My name is Dr. Aanya Rao," she said. "I'm the head of this project."
I asked her the question I was afraid of.
"What happens to me now?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "The world will fight over you."
That was the moment I understood.
I wasn't a person anymore.
I was a resource.
The final Y chromosome.
Outside, riots broke out. Groups demanded access to me. Nations threatened war. Underground organizations tried to steal me. Some women believed the human race should end peacefully. Others believed I should be used to rebuild it—at any cost.
And some believed I should be destroyed.
Because as long as I existed, power would never be equal.
I often looked at my hands and wondered—
How could something so small decide the fate of billions?
I didn't ask to be special.
I didn't ask to survive.
But survival had chosen me.
On the thirtieth day of my confinement, alarms blared through the facility. Red lights flashed. Explosions echoed in the distance.
Dr. Rao ran into my room.
"They're here," she said. "We don't have much time."
"Who?" I asked.
She looked at me, fear finally breaking through her calm face.
"Everyone."
She grabbed my arm.
"From this moment," she said, "your life will never be your own."
As we ran through the underground corridors, I realized one thing clearly—
The world of women had begun.
And I was its most dangerous secret.
The underground corridor shook as another explosion echoed behind us. Dust fell from the ceiling. Emergency lights flickered between red and darkness, making everything look unreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
Dr. Rao pulled me forward.
"Run," she said. "Don't look back."
My legs moved before my mind could catch up. My heart hammered in my chest. Every sound felt louder than the last—boots pounding, alarms screaming, distant gunfire.
"This facility was hidden," I shouted while running. "How did they find it?"
"They didn't," she replied. "They felt you."
I didn't understand then, but I would later.
We turned into a narrow passage. Two armed women stood guard. When they saw us, one of them hesitated.
"That's him," she whispered.
Not a man.
Him.
Dr. Rao didn't slow down.
"Stand aside," she ordered.
They obeyed, but their eyes followed me—curious, fearful, hungry.
I felt naked under their gaze.
We reached a metal door marked EVAC-3. Dr. Rao pressed her palm against the scanner. It beeped. The door slid open with a deep mechanical sound.
Inside was a small transport vehicle—armored, windowless.
"Get in," she said.
Before I could ask anything, another explosion rocked the corridor. The lights went out completely this time. For one second, there was only darkness and noise.
Then the emergency lights returned.
And I saw them.
Women in black uniforms poured into the corridor from the opposite side. Their faces were covered. Their weapons were advanced, unfamiliar.
Not soldiers.
Something else.
One of them spoke through a speaker.
"Step away from the asset."
Asset.
That word burned deeper than fear.
Dr. Rao pushed me inside the vehicle and turned to face them. She raised her weapon, her hands steady despite the chaos.
"He's not an object," she said. "He's a human being."
The woman laughed softly.
"Not anymore."
Gunfire exploded.
Dr. Rao slammed the door shut and hit the ignition. The vehicle shot forward just as bullets hit the metal behind us.
I was thrown back into the seat, gasping for breath.
For the first time since all this began, I screamed.
The vehicle sped through underground tunnels. The lights inside were dim. My hands were shaking uncontrollably.
"What happens if they catch me?" I asked, my voice breaking.
Dr. Rao didn't answer immediately.
Then she said quietly, "Some will want to save humanity. Some will want to control it. Some will want to end it."
She glanced at me.
"And none of them will ask what you want."
The vehicle slowed.
Ahead, a massive steel door began to open. Cold night air rushed in.
Outside, the city burned.
Fires glowed in the distance. Sirens wailed endlessly. Helicopters filled the sky. Screens on broken buildings flashed my face—captured from old surveillance footage.
LAST MALE CONFIRMED ALIVE
People were screaming. Chanting. Crying.
The world knew.
My chest tightened.
"I can't go out there," I said. "They'll tear me apart."
Dr. Rao placed a hand on my shoulder.
"I know," she said softly. "But hiding is no longer an option."
The vehicle stopped.
The door opened.
Hundreds of eyes turned toward me.
In that moment, I understood something painful and clear.
This was no longer about survival.
This was about ownership.
Some women knelt.
Some raised weapons.
Some reached out, trembling.
Hope and fear lived in the same crowd.
And I stood in the middle of it all, breathing, shaking, alive—
the final proof that humanity had not completely ended.
I didn't feel powerful.
I felt small.
I felt alone.
As Dr. Rao guided me forward, I looked up at the dark sky filled with drones and fire and noise.
Somewhere in this world, people were deciding my future.
Without my permission.
I clenched my fists and made a silent promise to myself.
If the world was going to use me—
Then I would make sure it paid the price.
The final Y chromosome was no longer hidden.
And the real battle for the future of humanity had just begun