Shuan stepped out of the wooden room alongside Hol.
The air outside was less brutal than the frozen wasteland beyond the walls, but it was still cold enough to remind him of the truth: This place was not salvation.
Only a small pocket of life surrounded by endless death.
Before them stretched a modest settlement buried beneath layers of snow.
White tents made from old insulated materials stood close together, some carefully patched with mismatched fabric and metal sheets.
Thin streams of smoke drifted upward from crude ventilation pipes, twisting through the freezing wind before disappearing into the gray sky.
Wooden poles connected parts of the settlement with hanging cables and dim lanterns powered by unstable generators.
The faint hum of electricity echoed somewhere in the distance.
Shuan’s eyes slowly moved across everything.
Children ran between the tents despite the cold, their laughter soft and weak, as if even joy had learned to survive quietly in this world.
A woman carried a bucket of melted snow water while another stitched torn winter clothing beside a small fire pit.
Several men worked silently around an old metallic machine half-buried in ice, using worn tools with practiced movements.
Nobody wasted energy.
Nobody moved unnecessarily.
Yet somehow… there was order.
A strange, fragile order.
Shuan unconsciously slowed his steps.
He had not seen anything like this in years.
A real community.
Not scavengers.
Not killers hiding in ruins.
People.
For a brief moment, the sight alone made his chest feel lighter.
Then suddenly— The dizziness returned.
His vision blurred slightly, and the ground beneath him felt unstable for a second.
He staggered faintly before forcing himself upright again.
“No matter…” he thought silently.
“I’ll get used to it.” Hol continued walking calmly beside him, silently observing every reaction on Shuan’s face without saying a word.
Snow crunched beneath their boots as they moved deeper into the settlement.
A few people glanced toward them, but there was little surprise in their eyes—as though strangers were rare here, yet never entirely unexpected.
Some looked curious.
Others cautious.
A few quickly looked away.
Shuan noticed something strange.
Despite the poverty surrounding them, the people here did not carry the empty eyes he had grown used to seeing outside.
They looked tired.
Hungry.
Cold.
But alive.
After several moments of silence, Hol finally spoke while gazing toward the distant tents.
“This settlement…” he said quietly, “is the last thing remaining of humanity in this region.” Shuan did not answer.
The wind howled softly between the structures as they continued walking.
Eventually, Hol stopped near a small open square where several men were repairing an ancient metal device connected to thick underground pipes.
Steam escaped from its sides.
Heat generator.
Probably the reason this place still existed at all.
Hol let out a slow breath.
Then he said, “I am old, Shuan.” Shuan immediately looked at him.
“And what does that mean?” Hol smiled faintly.
It was a calm smile, yet filled with an unbearable weight.
“It means… I am approaching my end.” Silence followed.
Shuan blinked, unsure how to respond.
“The end…?” he repeated slowly, as though testing the meaning of the word itself.
His eyes shifted toward Hol, then toward the tents, then toward the children running in the snow nearby.
“You mean you’re leaving the settlement?” Hol laughed quietly.
A short laugh without joy.
“No…” he said softly.
“I mean my body no longer has much time left.” Shuan stopped walking completely.
The dizziness returned again.
But this time it was not from exhaustion.
It was confusion.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked in a lower voice.
Hol turned and looked directly into his eyes.
“Because everything here depends on who will continue after me.” Shuan fell silent.
The words did not fully enter his mind.
It was too large of an idea for a single moment.
“I…” he began quietly, then stopped.
“I don’t understand.” Hol did not answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the gray sky above them.
Snow drifted slowly between the two of them.
Then he finally spoke.
“You will understand later… when the world begins asking something from you.” Shuan remained standing there.
Between the tents.
Between the people.
Between the freezing wind and this strange old man who spoke as though he could already see the future.
And for the first time since arriving— Shuan began to feel that this place was not merely a shelter.
It was the beginning of something far greater than he could possibly understand.