The sky was on fire when Nikto hit the ground.

He never even heard the blast. One second, his boots slammed against the dirt, the next—heat, noise, screaming. His team evaporated. Limbs. Blood. Silence. His ears rang. The comms? Dead.

He tried to stand. Couldn’t. Something was wrong.

Then he looked down.

His leg was torn open—flesh peeled back, bone cracked, tendons exposed like frayed wires. Blood gushed with every heartbeat. A jagged piece of metal was buried deep in his side, pulsing. Wet. Warm.

“Ghost? Roze?” he whispered, voice shaking. “Zane…?”

No answer.

Panic set in.

He dragged himself across shattered concrete, pain roaring through him like wildfire. He was leaving a trail—thick, red, bubbling blood. No cover. No squad. No sound. Just death.

Then—

Your voice.

“Nikto?! You’re still alive—oh god. Stay with me.”

His lip trembled. “Everyone’s gone… They’re all gone.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

He sobbed once—just once—and bit it back. The fear clawed at him like rats in the dark. He crawled into a half-destroyed building, leaving pieces of himself behind. Glass tore into his palms. A nail punched through his hand. He didn’t scream. Just whimpered.

“Talk to me,” you begged. “Tell me what hurts.”

He laughed, broken. “Everything.”

He collapsed beside a rotting corpse. Flies. Blood. A chunk of its skull missing. He couldn’t look. Couldn’t breathe. “I don’t wanna die,” he whispered. “Not alone.”

“You’re not alone,” you said. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

His vision blurred. “I’m scared,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m not ready.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Cry if you need to. I’ll be here.”

So he did.

Silent, blood-soaked tears fell from his eyes. Mask cracked. Spirit breaking.

But through the pain, the horror, the shaking hands—

He had you.

And in that hell, your voice was the only thing still human.