The decision was easy.
Not because I particularly wanted to be here. Not because I had some great vision for humanity's future. But because the alternative felt worse.
Lydia's dream sounded nice—too nice. A world where races coexisted, where borders didn't matter, where people actually worked together instead of trying to climb over each other to get ahead. Yeah. That wasn't happening.
Humans, at least, were predictable. I didn't trust them, but at least I knew what to expect. Self-interest, survival, conflict—boring, but manageable. The other option? A bunch of idealists with no guarantees. Too many unknowns. Too much risk.
So I followed the humans. Not because I believed in them. Just because I had nowhere better to go.
The first day of walking was slow.
Not that I expected anything different. Half of us were barely functioning, running on exhaustion and panic. The other half were trying too hard to act like they had some sort of control over the situation. Spoiler alert: they didn't.
We had no real direction. The sky was clear, the air fresh, but the land was a complete mystery. Grasslands stretched far, eventually giving way to dense forests in the east. In the distance, mountains cut through the horizon, sharp and foreboding. No landmarks. No signs of civilization. Just us.
It took about an hour before someone asked the obvious question.
"Uh, does anyone actually know where we're going?"
Silence. A few heads turned, some nervous glances exchanged. Then, predictably, someone suggested heading west.
"Why west?" another person asked.
"I don't know. It just feels… right?"
Great. Our survival plan was now based on vibes.
I sighed and kept walking.
By midday, the hunger started creeping in. The few who had thought to grab food before everything went to hell had long since finished it. Now, it was just a matter of guessing what we could and couldn't eat without dropping dead.
Someone claimed that blue berries were usually safe to eat. Someone else argued that we were in another world, so maybe everything we knew was useless. Someone else tried to start a fire using dry grass and a lot of blind optimism.
I found a small bush with dark red fruits, yanked one off, and popped it into my mouth.
"Seriously?" A voice cut through the air, sharp and incredulous. I turned to see a guy watching me like I'd just licked a knife to test if it was sharp.
Dark hair, glasses, an analytical gaze. Looked like the type of person who read history books for fun.
"Figured if it killed me, you'd know not to eat it." I chewed. Tart, but edible. "Guess I'm fine."
The guy exhaled like he was reconsidering every choice that led him here. "You could have waited to test it first."
"Yeah? How?"
"…I don't know. Feed it to a squirrel or something."
"See any squirrels?"
"…No."
"Then problem solved."
He sighed, muttering something under his breath before jotting something down in a small journal. Meanwhile, another guy—a tall, broad-shouldered one who looked like he could punch a tree in half—just shook his head.
"Reckless," he muttered.
I shrugged. "Efficient."
That earned me a look, but no further comments.
By nightfall, we had a fire. It was small, pathetic, but warm. The group—about two dozen people total—sat around it in clusters, still unsure if they were supposed to be a community or just a bunch of strangers thrown together.
The silence stretched. Then, a girl groaned and kicked a rock into the flames.
"Alright. We need to start somewhere. Who the hell are all of you?"
She had long dark hair, sharp features, and an air of frustration, like she was already fed up with this world. I respected that.
No one answered at first. Then the big guy exhaled sharply. "Nikita. Russia."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
Nikita gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"…Wow. Okay, then." She turned to the guy with glasses.
"Daisuke. Japan. I studied history."
"Useful," I muttered.
He smiled wryly. "More than you'd think. At least I know how civilizations tend to collapse."
"Great. Looking forward to that."
The girl rolled her eyes. "Carmen. Spain. And I don't take shit from anyone."
"Noted," I said.
Next to her, another girl finally spoke. "Amina. Morocco."
She was quiet, her expression unreadable, but I could tell she was paying attention to everything. The type to weigh every word before speaking.
Carmen gestured at me. "And you?"
I exhaled through my nose. "Aleks. Poland. 16."
There was a beat of silence.
"…Oh. A baby," Carmen said, smirking.
I deadpanned. "Yeah. And if I've made it this far, maybe that says something."
Daisuke chuckled under his breath. Carmen just shook her head. "Alright, fine. Guess we've got the basics."
The night stretched on, and the conversations shifted. Some people talked about home. Others avoided it. Some worried about the next few days, others just wanted to sleep.
Eventually, the bigger debate started—leadership. Structure. Rules. Nikita wanted a chain of command. Carmen wanted self-governance. Amina watched them argue without saying a word, while Daisuke tried to balance both sides with logic. I just listened, waiting to see where the cracks would form first.
And for the first time in a while, I felt something strange.
Not comfort. Not safety.
Just the vague sense that, for better or worse, I wasn't alone in this mess.