1,000 years later.
Nolan stood on the sharp gravel. It tore at his soul even if his iron-strong skin barely felt it. Every step was a memory, every crunch underfoot a reminder. It wasn't just pain—it was longing. Longing for something he could never have.
Family. Friends. A home that wasn't a tomb of dust and echoes. A life that wasn't stolen by the Black Bacteria. They were gone. All of them. His kind. His neighbors. People he never even knew he needed. Dead. Forgotten.
And he walked. Across endless plains, across jagged rocks that cut through the soles of his boots, searching for a life that would never exist again. Searching for the warmth of a hand, the laughter of a child, the touch of love he was forbidden to feel again.
The sun burned down like a cruel god, reflecting off the gravel into his eyes, making him squint. But it wasn't the sun that burned him—it was memory. Faces he would never see again. Voices he would never hear. He saw them everywhere now. Not in reality… but in his mind, in every shadow, in every flicker of movement.
He saw his family, standing where he remembered them last. Smiling. Laughing. Dead. And he could almost reach them, almost touch them, almost feel their warmth—but each time, the phantom slipped away.
He longed to die with them, but his body refused. He hated himself for surviving. Hated the stubbornness that forced him to keep walking across barren plains. But still he moved. One step, then another.
Hurt was everything he was. Hurt was his name, his blood, his life. His heart wasn't just wounded—it was gravel in flesh. He wanted to feel nothing, wanted to end the ache, but his mind clawed at him, whispering: Keep going. Keep moving. Keep surviving.
And he did.
Step after step. His iron skin was scratched, torn, and bleeding. But his soul bled worse. Every memory, every loss, every ounce of longing made him scream internally, though no sound escaped. The world was silent. The universe had moved on. He was left behind. Alone.
Sometimes he thought he saw life. A flower struggling through the ash. A glimmer of water in a cracked riverbed. But it was only his mind playing tricks. There was nothing. Nothing except his endless wandering, nothing except grief. Nothing except… pain.
He wanted to end it. To crumble into the dust like everything else. But he couldn't. He had to keep going. He didn't know why. He didn't even like why. It was punishment. It was suffering. And yet… it was all he had.
And so Nolan walked.
Across plains of ash and gravel, beneath skies of red and gray. Through endless silence. Through endless grief. Through the ache of a universe that had forgotten him.
But he walked.
Because even in hurt, in loss, in unbearable, impossible loneliness… he was alive.
And for now… that was enough.