As Nero and Dorne continued their walk for the better part of an hour, they finally arrived at what Dorne called "the town." It wasn't much. Several buildings stood on the verge of collapse, some already reduced to rubble. Only five houses looked stable enough to live in.
Dorne gave a half-smile and said, "Welcome to our town… or what's left of it, I guess."
Nero glanced around. Despite the decay, he saw people smiling, laughing. Children ran around, playing in the dirt with sticks or worn-out toys. It wasn't much, but there was something warm here—people were surviving, even happy.
"This place looks like a dump," Nero muttered, still watching them. "But… people are happy here."
Dorne followed his gaze, then nodded. "It may look like a dump, but it's our home. You'll fit right in. Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."
"… Sure."
They walked forward together as Dorne raised his voice to call the others over. Soon, townspeople gathered—offering warm smiles, firm handshakes, curious looks. The children seemed especially excited to see someone new. A group of them approached Nero eagerly, wide-eyed and giggling.
Each of them touched him—then, in an instant, everything changed.
Their smiles vanished. Color drained from their faces. The giggles died. Some flinched like they'd touched fire. Four of them started crying—sobbing, trembling in sheer terror. The rest just stood there, frozen, too afraid to even cry.
Nero's eyes widened slightly. He took a quiet step back.
Parents rushed forward, pulling their children into their arms.
"What happened?" one asked. "Why are you crying?"
Little Lina Raskin (10), shaking uncontrollably, whispered, "I… I saw a monster…"
"A monster?" her father repeated. "What are you talking about?"
Dorne instinctively scanned the area, his hand hovering near his sidearm. "There's nothing here," he said quickly. "Must've been your imagination."
But the children didn't say anything else. They just clung to their parents, some hiding their faces, others staring at Nero with haunted expressions.
Nero said nothing. He looked down, jaw tight, already knowing the truth.
Ilana Keene, gripping the hand of her seven-year-old son Tobin, narrowed her eyes at Nero. "Did you do something to them? Who the hell are you?"
Nero stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Dorne stepped forward. "He has no memories of his past."
Ilana turned on him. "Then why did you bring him here?"
"I thought Anika could take a look at him. I wanted to help."
"I should go," Nero said softly.
"No, you're not leaving." Dorne said, firm. "I made a promise to help you—and I intend to keep it."
"But—"
Dorne cut him off. "You stay. That's final."
He turned back to the others. "I'm still in charge around here. If I say Nero stays, he stays. If anyone's got a problem with it, they can take it up with me."
The crowd went quiet. No one argued. They began dispersing one by one, heading back toward their homes, casting glances back at Nero.
Dorne looked at Nero again, softer now. "Don't worry about them. I know you're a good guy. Give it time—they'll see it too."
Nero said quietly, "You didn't have to do this."
Dorne smirked and started walking. "Follow me."
They arrived at a modest, two-room house. Inside, the space was cramped but functional. Old military relics were scattered around—helmets, medals, a battered rifle leaning against the wall. It felt like a place caught between a war and a home.
Dorne pointed to a small side room. "You can use that one. It's a bit cramped, but hey… it's got a bed."
Nero stepped inside, took a slow look around, and muttered, "What promise? You just said you knew a doctor."
Dorne let out a low laugh. "Don't worry too much about it. It's the same thing."
Nero glanced at him, expression unreadable.
Still, he walked inside and sat on the edge of the bed, silent. The cramped room smelled faintly of dust and old leather. Torn clothes hung loosely on his frame, heavier now than before—not from fabric, but from thoughts pressing down on him.