chapter 34: Flames That Blame Me for Their Fire.

While riding the train of my thoughts, the train that has no stops and roams endlessly, Substitute Number Two, whatever his name might be, guides me through the calm streets of the city.

I jumped off the train because of his voice.

"We've arrived, sir."

I glance out the window and see just an ordinary four-story building—a modest residence.

Before getting out, I retrieve a gun from my waist, one I had taken from the secret cave.

Yes, I called it the secret cave. For now, I don't have time to come up with a better name.

I hold the sleek black gun, noticing the intricate details that hint at its fine craftsmanship. Gripping it in my right hand, I expertly release the magazine to check if it's loaded, then snap it back into place with ease.

Muscle memory feels like magic. Who would have imagined that I, one day, would hold something like this and feel comfortable using it?

I tuck it back into my waistband, a thought lingering in my mind: Should I have brought something bigger or more powerful? No, the larger it is, the less efficient it becomes.

I glance at Substitute Number Two.

"Do you sense anything in the building?"

"In response to your, sir,"

It takes a few seconds. I can't see his expression, but I have a feeling his eyes are closed.

"The building is completely empty. There's only one person on the fourth floor."

Alright. Before stepping out, a thought strikes me.

"Don't stay here. Start moving around the area. Don't get too close, don't wander too far, and make sure no one sees you. Wait for my call."

" Understood."

Get out of the car, and Substitute Number Two drives off.

Standing before the building, a strange feeling washes over me—a mix of fear and dread. But there's nothing I can do about it. I need to confirm that he hasn't done what I suspect.

There's a car parked in front of the building, which I ignore. Entering the dimly lit structure, I notice its blackened walls. It doesn't seem like paint. The smell of smoke and ash fills my nostrils. Without hesitation, I draw my gun, holding it with both hands, aiming it forward.

Every sense in my body comes alive. I tread cautiously, focused on my surroundings.

There's no elevator, so I'm forced to take the stairs.

The first floor is silent. Nothing. The second floor is the same. The third floor, too. But the closer I get to the fourth floor, the stronger the smell of burning became, like someone had been roasting meat.

On the fourth floor, a relatively short corridor leads to two apartments with wooden doors. I approach one of them, the smell of burning wood wafting out. Its surface looks charred.

Finally, I stand before the door in question—the apartment that's supposed to be Dahi's residence. Cautiously, I knock like any ordinary person would, but it's as if the door had been waiting to be touched. It collapses with a crash. As soon as it hits the ground, it turns to ash, crumbling from how brittle it had become.

This only heightens the blaring alarms in my head. I enter with slow steps. The darkness inside is overwhelming—I can barely see anything.

If not for the faint light from the streetlamps seeping through the large window, I wouldn't even have noticed the decayed furniture.

"Dahi? Mr. Dahi? Are you here?"

No matter how much I call out, there's no response. 

Of course, I spoke too soon, as usual.

I wanted an answer, but not this kind.

My entire body jerks as if on instinct, taking over to protect me from the sudden attack from behind.

The pitch-black room suddenly lights up with flames that appear behind me. I hurl myself to the ground, rolling away.

Boom.

It turns out the light was a fireball igniting one of the leather chairs, which continues to burn, casting flickering light across the room.

I position myself to face the attacker, and my eyes widen at the horror before me.

A man engulfed in flames stands before me. Without any warning, he lets out a scream so chilling it makes every hair on my body stand on end.

"Everything is because of you!"

He swings his arm, hurling a fireball in my direction. Without thinking, I leap aside, narrowly dodging it. But he doesn't stop. He keeps throwing fireballs in the same frenzied manner.

Flames shoot everywhere as he flails his hands, casting burning orbs. I don't need to be a genius to figure out that if one hits me, I'll end up like the burning sofa.

Lowering my body, I move around the cramped apartment, using the narrow space to my advantage, taking cover behind the concrete pillars, which begin to melt under the heat.

As if bored of this game, he steps closer. I leap away, dodging his erratic attacks with great difficulty due to the limited space. The gun in my hand becomes useless. The situation makes me think—if I had brought something like a sword, this would've been easier to handle.

he halts, letting out a furious scream as sparks erupt from his entire body. The idea of dodging him feels impossible.

I quickly glance around and, to my relief, spot my only chance of survival: the window beside me.

With all the strength I can muster, I dash toward it, throwing myself at it with my arms and legs raised to shield me.

Crash.

There's no escaping the sensation of shards slicing into my skin, but who cares? There's a bigger problem.

Free fall.

My arms and legs flail in the air, desperately searching for something to hold onto. But as the ground rushes closer, an idea comes to mind. I curl my body, and to my surprise, instead of hitting the ground, I land on the car—or rather, I crash onto it.

Boom.

The force of my impact shatters all the car's windows, leaving its roof caved in. A faint groan escapes my lips, as if I hadn't just fallen onto the vehicle from the fourth floor.

I barely feel any pain in my arms or legs. Without wasting any time, I slide off the car and onto the ground, catching my breath. The shock makes it hard to balance at first.

But there's no time to waste. I stand up and turn toward the building.

Boom.

The entire structure explodes, consumed by flames. 

The blast throws me through the air until I crash into the wall of the building across the street, my back smashing against it.

The impact is so violent it forces blood from my mouth as I collapse to the ground. Using my hand for support, I try to make sense of what's happening.

I lift my head, noticing shards of debris flying everywhere. Quickly, I throw myself to the side, barely dodging a chunk that strikes the building behind me, which then meets the same fate as its counterpart—reduced to rubble.

I stand, straightening my back as my eyes scan the scene.

A massive flame, unlike the others, shoots out from the building and streaks down the street. Every structure it touches ends up just like the first.

Within seconds, the street becomes a miniature inferno, fire consuming everything in its path.

"All of this… because of you!"

It's clear that the source of the chaos is Dahi. He's flying through the air like a missile, consumed by madness. He's lost all control, screaming endlessly. 

Fuck you. Who told you to take the serum?

The thought of running away crosses my mind, but in this state, his body will eventually burn out. He'll collapse, dead.

Afterward, there'll be an investigation. His body will be examined. If the serum is discovered, my life will be in danger.

With these thoughts racing through my head, I start running after him. But before that, I catch sight of one of the cars that escaped the flames. I approach it, breaking its rear window with my elbow. Reaching inside, Tak a clown mask.

It's just in case there are any cameras around. The neighborhood is fairly poor, so it's unlikely, but better safe than sorry.

I start running. In the distance, it's not hard to predict his path—the trail of burning buildings is a dead giveaway.

The screams and cries of the residents, burning alive, pierce the air. Damn it.

I quicken my pace, the wind slamming against my face like I'm riding a motorcycle without a helmet. Am I a cheetah or what?

My speed is unbelievable. Dahi had taken off a while ago, yet I catch sight of him in no time. The feeling is exhilarating.

I know this isn't the right moment to enjoy it, but keep in mind that my life was once filled with weakness and pain. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said I can't even remember the last time I ran.

Seconds pass, and I get closer. he notices me, because he stops and drops to the middle of the street, turning his fiery body toward me.

He charges at me like a flaming ball—no, he literally is a flaming ball—hurtling at me at insane speed.

With both of us rushing toward each other, there's no way to dodge him. All I can do is jump, tucking my arms and legs to protect my head and vital organs.

There's no other choice. If I lose my limbs, at least I'll keep my life. And with the serum enhancing my body, let's see what happens.

It's like we're long-lost relatives meeting after years apart. As soon as we collide, we embrace—just a little more violently than expected.

Boom.

I feel my insides shift from the impact. Of course, I lose this clash; he remains in place while I'm sent flying backward, soaring through the air like a missile.

Luckily, I had tucked in my limbs, sparing them from breaking under the air pressure.

I keep flying for a while. When I feel my speed beginning to drop, I dare to press my fingers to the ground, creating just enough friction to slow me down. With this move, I'm able to twist my waist and plant my legs on the ground, increasing friction and further reducing my speed.

After seven seconds, I finally stopped sliding. To my surprise, I don't feel any burns on my limbs—just a faint warmth from the friction, barely worth mentioning.

But my clothes weren't as lucky.

I had been wearing pants, which are now shorts. The same goes for my sleeves, leaving my wrists exposed. As the old saying goes: Don't play with fire.

I stand up and realize I'm back where I started—near the car.

That bastard. It's like he's mocking me. I'm right back at square one.

Once again, he screams like a lunatic and shoots off like a missile. This time, it's easier to dodge him, but wait—each time he burns himself out, he gets closer to his end.

I stand in place, and as he approaches, I sidestep at the last moment, letting him pass by.

Realizing his position, he crashes into a building, setting it ablaze as he re-emerges from the wreckage, screaming. This time, he charges again, like a raging bull.

I pull out my gun and fire several rounds at him, but it's useless. I mean, it was just an attempt. The main plan is still to wait for him to exhaust himself.

I sidestep again as he barrels past. This time, though, it seems he's caught onto my strategy. He doesn't charge with full force, staying closer to me.

For the first time, I got a good look at his body. I fired the remaining bullets, and luckily, they pierced him. I can even see his reaction—he groans with each hit. But instead of bleeding or collapsing, he grows more enraged.

The sound of the gun clicking, signaling I'm out of bullets, rings in my ears. I return it to my waist, stepping backward as he charges again.

He reminds me of a video game boss whose moves I have to memorize to defeat. The problem is, I need to survive long enough for his energy to run out and his flames to die.

He charges with more fury than before.

Suddenly, my instincts kick in.

The danger ahead is obvious, but I feel something behind me—something possibly even faster.

With a swift sidestep, I dodge both threats, watching as they collide in front of me.

A massive black sphere, roughly human-sized, crashes into the flaming Dahi, carrying him away on a wild aerial journey.

I turn to where the sphere came from and see a high-school-aged boy with the face of an old man. In his hand is a hammer, and in the other, a long piece of fabric. He's wearing night vision goggles, despite the sun having set hours ago, and a black cap sits on his head.

The old-looking young man approaches me, and as soon as he reaches my position, we speak the same words at the same time:

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"