The air is thick with dust as Namjoon leads the group down a cracked highway, rifle strapped across his back. They’ve been walking all morning, looking for supplies. Hoseok scouts ahead, light on his feet, while Jungkook keeps to the rear, watching for anything that might follow.

Jin wipes sweat from his brow, glancing up at the sun barely peeking through the clouds. "This place gives me the creeps. We should move fast."

Yoongi barely spares him a look, pulling his jacket tighter. "Creepy’s normal now."

Taehyung slows, eyes narrowing at movement near the rusted wreck of an old bus. "Did anyone see that?"

They all stop. Guns raise. Silence falls. Then—

A voice from behind the wreckage. Calm. Steady. Human.

The group freezes.

Jimin steps forward carefully, hands raised in a sign of peace. "We’re not infected. Are you?"

A figure steps into view—dust-covered, tense, but clearly alive. Niko.

Jungkook’s grip on his weapon relaxes a little. "He's alone."

Namjoon steps forward. "Name?"

Niko gives it. No stuttering. No fear. Just survival.

Hoseok tilts his head, eyes scanning them. "He looks like he have been through hell."

"Same as us," mutters Yoongi.

Taehyung takes a slow step closer, his gaze unreadable. "You armed?"

Niko nods. They don’t raise it.

Jimin lets out a breath. "That’s something."

There’s a pause—heavy, uncertain. Then Namjoon speaks. "We’ve got a camp. Water. Some food. You’re welcome to walk with us. For now."

Jin glances at him sideways. "You sure about that?"

"He's breathing, aren't he?" Namjoon says. "That’s rare enough."

As they turn and begin walking, Niko falls into step beside them. No questions asked. Just quiet footsteps on broken pavement, hearts heavy with the weight of what they’ve lost—and maybe, just maybe, a flicker of what they’ve found.