The Tales of an Infinite Regressor

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Chapter 233: Firestarter II

3

“Call me Nenets.”

“I am the Undertaker. Pleased to meet you.”

“Undertaker (Гробовщик)? That can't be your real name unless you’re a wrestler. Quite a grim nickname you’ve got there.”

The man who introduced himself as Nenets lived in a shabby tent. The outer walls of the tent were coated with reindeer skins to improve insulation.

It was a rather flimsy structure to weather an apocalypse.

It probably wasn’t his base but rather a temporary hideout.

‘It seems he’s cautious enough not to reveal the location of his actual base to someone he doesn’t fully trust yet.’

The man was indeed prudent. I had sensed that subtly from reading his posts on the forum.

“Your nickname is just as peculiar as mine. Nenets—doesn’t that mean ‘person’ in the Nenets language?”

“…A man from the Far East knows about the Nenets?”

The man looked surprised. He seemed as astonished as when I had cast the spell Icebreaker.

Although the name “Nenets” might sound unfamiliar to Koreans, mentioning their traditional attire could evoke an instant sense of recognition.

Parka (Парка). The winter coat we often wear derives its name from the Nenets language. The man before me was also wearing a parka made from reindeer fur.

“Of course. They’re an indigenous people who have lived in this region for ages. I heard they used to be nomads.”

“That’s right. I’m a Nenets.”

From that moment, the man’s demeanor softened. He brought firewood from outside the tent, lit a stove, and personally brewed tea for me.

He even offered biscuits to go with the tea, along with pieces of Hershey’s chocolate. In an apocalyptic setting, this was the finest hospitality a stranger could offer—a premium omakase.

I couldn’t be outdone. I took out four bottles of distilled liquor from my backpack as a gift, and the man instantly treated me as if I were a long-lost relative.

“My real name is different,” the man, his face flushed from the alcohol, confessed.

“But ever since everyone in the city died and I was the only one left, I changed my name to Nenets. I didn’t think anyone would ever call me that again... until I saw that site was real.”

“Was there a particular reason you chose the name Nenets?”

“As I said, I was the only one left alive.”

His beard quivered as he sighed.

“I used to think I was just an ordinary person. Even though my parents were Nenets, I never really thought about my heritage.”

But after the void descended and wiped out the people in the city, one of his surviving relatives had said this:

- Hey, we might be the last Nenets left on Earth.

- If we all die, who will know that we even existed?

The man took another swig of liquor.

“It was my uncle who said that. He was always an odd one. He worked at a bank but also ran a small reindeer farm and wore traditional Nenets clothes. Oh, did you see the reindeer outside? They were originally his.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, even before the world went crazy, he was obsessed with native culture. Ha! The man could barely even speak Nenets.”

Oddly enough, both the man in front of me and his uncle had been ordinary city workers. Trying to recreate the nomadic traditions now felt awkward and out of place.

“And your uncle...?”

“He died two years ago. One of the reindeer he raised turned into a monster. It grew to nearly 10 meters tall, with horns that were... magnificent!”

The man looked into the distance, his breath tinged with drunkenness.

“Truly, truly, the most cursedly beautiful horns I’ve ever seen. My uncle was gored to death by those horns.”

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“What happened to the reindeer?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way someone like me could take down such a monster. I hid behind cover until it disappeared beyond the snowfields. Then, I rushed to my uncle. He was already dead.”

“My condolences.”

“No need. He died at the hands of the reindeer he cherished. That’s a noble death, isn’t it? He was a troublesome man.”

Nenets put the bottle down.

“So now, I’m doing my best to uphold Nenets traditions, however clumsily. I raise reindeer, set up tents...”

“I think that’s admirable.”

“Well, I don’t really take pride in my heritage. But like my uncle said, if I die, this tribe ends. There won’t be anyone left who speaks the Nenets language.”

“…”

“It’s just something to do.”

We spent the night near the stove, warming the air with our breath as we drank liquor, ate biscuits, and cheap chocolate.

The next morning.

Barely rested, the man woke me up and guided me somewhere.

“Sorry for keeping you in such a cold place all night. Follow me this way.”

Instinctively, I realized that Nenets was now leading me to his real home, not just a temporary base.

What was once known as the Red City had turned completely white. Even the four- and five-story concrete buildings were almost entirely buried under snow, with only the very tops peeking out.

“It seems that the White Army emerged victorious in the second Russian Civil War.”

“Hm? Ha! Undertaker, you’re fluent in Russian and know our history well.”

Nenets seemed pleased with my dark humor.

He had made his home in a regional hospital. It used to be a five-story building, but now it had been reduced to just a single floor, buried in the snow.

Nenets climbed a ladder to the hospital’s roof. Several frozen corpses lay nearby, their foreheads pierced by crossbow bolts, but we didn’t bother paying attention to them.

“Look at this.”

Nenets pointed to a structure he had set up in a rooftop corner.

It resembled both a chimney and a small lighthouse, constantly emitting smoke.

It was the source of the smoke column I had observed from over 1,000 kilometers away.

“That’s the ‘long-distance communication method’ I discovered.”

“This is... a beacon?”

“Exactly.”

A beacon.

A primitive means of long-distance communication used since ancient times. It had proven its usefulness, even though it faced ridicule during the Imjin War.

Most modern people probably associate beacons with the epic scene from The Lord of the Rings.

In literature, beacons date back as early as 458 BC, appearing in the prologue of Agamemnon by the Greek tragedian Aeschylus. In that scene, the guards panic after seeing the beacon, which is quite fun to read—especially if you’re familiar with The Lord of the Rings.

“Can such a primitive method really work for long-distance communication? The void distorts perception all around us.”

“The void? You mean that hell full of monsters?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry. The beacon I’ve lit crosses through that hell just fine. You saw the smoke column yourself, didn’t you? Long before you arrived here.”

That was true.

“This may look like fire, but it’s something different.”

Nenets casually tossed some firewood into the furnace built into the beacon.

“Look here. Do you see the firewood sitting untouched inside the furnace?”

“Oh.”

“You need to add wood to make the flames rise, but it doesn’t actually burn the wood. It’s just the act of putting it in that counts.”

“And if it rains or snows...?”

“It still burns perfectly.”

My eyes shot open.

“Wait a minute. I observed the pillar of smoke from roughly 1,000 kilometers away. So, no matter the weather, does this beacon you lit always reach beyond 1,000 kilometers?”

“Hm. You deduced that well without me explaining. I don't know if it's exactly 1,000 kilometers, but it certainly reaches very far.”

“...!”

No way, isn't this amazing!

I excitedly paced around near the beacon. No matter where I looked, it was just an ordinary structure made of bricks.

“This is extremely, incredibly fascinating, Mr. Nenets. What exactly are the conditions for activating this ability?”

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“First, you have to build a beacon. I experimented with using a torch, but the fire wouldn't work while moving. You have to build it so that it clearly looks like a beacon to anyone who sees it. Even if you just pile up some logs, smoke will rise, but the effect is weaker.”

“Is that all?”

“No, now comes the crucial part.”

Nenets shook his head.

“If you just light an ordinary fire, it’s useless. The strange, magical flame only forms from the fire I light.”

I gathered my thoughts.

“I see. So, if I were to take the fire from the flame burning here in this beacon and transfer it somewhere else…?”

“Then a flame just as large, reaching the sky, would burn. That is, if the beacon is properly built.”

“Ah.”

I immediately conducted an experiment.

I left the outskirts of Naryan-Mar and built another beacon somewhere suitable. Then, I took a flame from Nenets' beacon and transferred it using a torch.

Whooosh...

After placing firewood in the furnace and lighting it, it wasn’t long before the flame bloomed like a flower. Soon, smoke started rising through the chimney―

“Ooh!”

The smoke rose straight up.

As if there were no wind blowing in the sky, the smoke shot up vertically, continuously.

It was like a pillar of smoke reaching the sky, resembling a space elevator.

‘…This might just be a small breakthrough for my regression project.’

A very simple ability.

‘If you light a fire on a beacon, it can be seen from far away.’

It didn’t particularly aid personal survival, nor did it contribute to combat strength.

But from this simple ability, I sensed some potential, just as I had when I first discovered Seo Gyu’s Ubiquitous.

‘If I could establish these beacons every 1,000 kilometers across the world…?’

We wouldn’t be able to exchange sophisticated information like on a community forum.

‘But at least we’d be able to tell which areas were in danger immediately.’

I stayed in the area for a few more days, experimenting with Nenets’ beacon. Just as he claimed, the beacon didn’t go out even in a snowstorm.

It was an incredible discovery.

“Mr. Nenets, I think the name Sacred Flame would be fitting for this ability.”

“Sacred Flame? You mean like the Olympic torch?”

“That’s right.”

According to some accounts, in ancient Greece, the flame from the Temple of Delphi was transported to the temples of other cities.

For the Greeks, Delphi was the center of the world.

The flame from the core of heaven and earth was transferred to various cities, and from there to the hearths of ordinary citizens.

Thus, the flame burning in my hearth was connected to those in other homes, and when the core of the world exhaled, the flames exhaled in unison.

The world was made of fire.

The Sacred Flame, therefore, was the embodiment of the idea of “existing everywhere at all times”—the true form of ubiquitous.

“That seems a bit grand, don’t you think...?”

“Not at all. I’ll take the flame you’ve nurtured and spread it across the world.”

“...”

Nenets scratched his cheek. He hadn’t expected me to get this excited.

“Well, if you insist. Use it well.”

4

There’s a brief epilogue.

When the time came to part ways with Nenets, I asked him subtly.

“Do you have any plans to come to Busan?”

“Busan?”

“Yes. It’s not exactly the best place to live, but it’s functioning well enough as a city.”

Nenets fell into thought.

“...No, I don’t feel like leaving my homeland at this point.”

“I see.”

“There’s nothing tying me to life anymore. Even posting on that site was a kind of amusement. Meeting someone like you at the end was a blessing from the gods.”

Nenets stroked his reindeer’s neck.

“I can’t leave these creatures behind, either... If you’re that grateful, how about teaching me the secret to your aura or whatever your ability is?”

“All right. I’ll give you a crash course.”

In the end, Nenets stayed behind, living alone in the “White City.”

In my 669th turn, I was incredibly busy traveling around the world, proving the efficacy of the Sacred Flame.

Perhaps one day I’ll have the opportunity to talk in detail about the work of building beacons around the world.

After several years of completing the project, I returned to Naryan-Mar with a bottle of the finest distilled liquor.

“Mr. Nenets?”

However, Nenets was nowhere to be found.

I couldn’t find him in the tent where he had served me biscuits and chocolate, nor at the hideout on the hospital rooftop.

Only the ever-burning beacon remained, flickering in solitude.

I found Nenets’ body in a snowy field far from Naryan-Mar.

There, he had died, impaled by the antlers of a reindeer about 15 meters tall.

It was mutual destruction.

“...”

The reindeer was so huge that neither it nor Nenets’ body was fully buried in the snow.

As I buried the man who stubbornly upheld the traditions of his lineage until his death, I thought to myself.

They say that when a person’s time to die approaches, they begin to organize their past.

If so, might something similar happen when an entire race faces extinction?

That he was the last survivor of a lineage passed down through generations.

The flames and smoke that gently burned around the world were, in retrospect, likely Nenets’ legacy.

-The Firestarter. END.

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