The fire crackled weakly inside the ruined tunnel.
Above them, the city groaned under its own dying weight.
Broken skyscrapers leaned like corpses into the blood-red sky.
Kaela sat cross-legged on the cracked tiles, arms wrapped around her knees.
Arin and Riven were nearby — tending their gear in silence.
Veyne leaned against the wall, half-dozing, a cigarette burning low in his fingers.
For a moment, it almost felt... normal.
Almost.
---
Kaela and Arin
Arin caught Kaela staring at the fire.
He tossed a broken piece of tile into the flames.
> "Scared?"
His voice was rough but not unkind.
Kaela nodded slowly.
> "Yeah.
Not just scared of dying.
Scared that it won't matter.
That after everything... the world will just forget."
Arin chuckled dryly.
> "World's been forgetting us for years."
He looked up — through the broken ceiling at the poisonous clouds above.
> "But maybe that's why we fight.
So the next ones don't have to."
Kaela looked at him — and for the first time, she caught a glimpse of the man behind the cocky smirks and bravado.
Not a hero.
Not a soldier.
Just a boy who didn't want to be forgotten.
---
Riven's Quiet Words
Riven, polishing his broken blade, spoke without looking up.
> "I don't want a statue.
I don't want a story."
He wiped the bloodstain from the steel carefully, almost lovingly.
> "I just want a tomorrow."
Silence settled after that.
Heavy.
Real.
---
Veyne's Last Toast
Veyne pushed himself up, staggering over with a grin.
He held up a battered flask.
> "To tomorrow, then.
However bloody it gets."
They clinked their makeshift cups — rusted tin, broken bottles.
The drink burned like fire down their throats.
But it was real.
And for a few heartbeats — amidst all the death, the monsters, the ruins — they were just people.
Fighting for something they might never see.