Chapter 233
Chapter 233
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 233
Chapter Title: The Nenets and the Holy Flame
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3
“Call me Nenets.”
“I’m the Undertaker. Nice to meet you.”
“Undertaker (Гробовщик)? You’re no wrestler, so that’s not your real name. What an ominous nickname.”
The man who introduced himself as Nenets lived in a shabby tent. He had coated the outer walls with reindeer hide to improve insulation.
It was far too makeshift a structure to have weathered the Apocalypse.
This was probably not his main base but a temporary hideout.
‘He’s not about to reveal his base’s location to someone he hasn’t built any trust with yet.’
The man was cautious. I’d sensed it subtly from reading his forum post, but now it was clear.
“You’ve got quite the unique nickname yourself. Nenets, isn’t that ‘human’ in the Nenets language?”
“…A Far East native knows of the Nenets people?”
The man looked surprised, as if I’d just used my aura to cast ‘Glacier… cleaved…….’
Nenets might sound unfamiliar to Koreans, but mention their traditional clothing, and familiarity would spark instantly.
Parka (Парка). The winter parkas we wear originated from the Nenets word. The man before me was wearing one made of reindeer fur.
“Of course. You’re the indigenous minority who’ve spread out and lived around here for ages, right? I heard you used to be nomads.”
“That’s right. I am Nenets.”
From that moment, the man grew suddenly friendly. He fetched firewood piled outside the tent and lit the stove, then personally brewed tea and served it to me.
He even brought out biscuits to eat with the tea, slicing up Hershey’s chocolate to go with them. In the Apocalypse, wasn’t this the pinnacle of hospitality for a stranger?
I couldn’t be outdone. I pulled four bottles of distilled liquor from my backpack as a gift, and the man before me decided to treat me like a long-lost relative.
“My real name is something else.”
The man, flushed red from the alcohol, spoke up.
“But after everyone in the city died and I was the only survivor, I changed it to Nenets. I figured no one was left to call me by it anyway…… Who’d have thought that site was real.”
“Why choose Nenets specifically?”
“As I said, everyone died except me.”
His beard quivered with a heavy sigh.
“I was just an ordinary guy. At least, that’s what I thought of myself. My parents were Nenets, but I never really dwelled on carrying Nenets blood.”
But when the Void came and the city’s people died en masse, one of his relatives in the survivor group they formed said this:
-Hey. We might be the last Nenets left on earth.
-If we all die like this, who’ll even know we existed?
The man tilted the liquor bottle.
“It was my uncle. Always a weirdo. Worked at a bank but ran a small reindeer ranch on the side, wore Nenets traditional clothes…… Ah. Did you see the reindeer outside? Those were originally his.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, he’d always been serious about indigenous culture, but after the world went mad, he obsessed even more over traditions. Sheesh. And he couldn’t even speak Nenets as well as I could.”
Amusingly, both the man before me and his uncle had been urban office workers. Trying to embody nomadic traditions now just felt awkward somehow.
“And your uncle now……?”
“Died two years ago. One of his reindeer turned into a monster. Ah. It grew to nearly ten meters tall, horns so massive!”
The man’s mouth hung slightly open as he stared into space. Alcohol laced his breath.
“Truly, utterly beautiful horns. My uncle got gored by them and died.”
“What happened to the reindeer?”
“No idea. Not something a guy like me could take down. I hid in a snow shelter until it vanished beyond the tundra, then rushed to my uncle. Instant death.”
“May he rest in peace.”
“No need. Dying by the reindeer he cherished so much? More like a fitting end. He was a headache.”
Nenets set down the bottle.
“So now I’m carrying on Nenets traditions, however clumsily. Raising reindeer. Pitching tents……”
“I think that’s admirable.”
“Hmm. No real pride in my bloodline. But like my uncle said, if I die, that’s the end of the Nenets. No one left who speaks the language……”
“……”
“Just passing the time.”
We warmed ourselves by the stove all night with liquor, biscuits, and cheap chocolate.
The next day.
He woke me after just a few hours of sleep and guided me.
“Sorry for leaving a guest in the cold all night. This way.”
Instinctively, I sensed Nenets was inviting me to his real home, not a temporary outpost.
The city once called the Red City had turned utterly white. Even four- and five-story concrete buildings were buried in snow, save their peaks.
“Looks like the Second Red-White Civil War was won by the Whites.”
“Hm? Ah, hahaha! Undertaker, you speak fluent Russian and know our history well.”
Nenets seemed pleased with my sophisticated humor.
His base was a regional hospital. Apparently once five stories tall. Now, sunk in the tundra, it was reduced to one.
Nenets climbed a ladder to the hospital rooftop. A few corpses nearby were frozen with crossbow bolts through their foreheads, but he paid them no mind.
“Here, look.”
Nenets pointed to a structure in the rooftop corner.
It resembled a chimney or a small lighthouse, smoke rising endlessly from it.
This was the source of the ‘smoke pillar’ I’d observed from 1,000 km away.
“This is the ‘long-distance communication method’ I discovered.”
“This is…… a beacon fire, isn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
Beacon fire (烽火).
A long-distance communication tool humanity had used since ancient times. It suffered the indignity of being called primitive during the Imjin War, but its utility was undeniable.
Most modern people probably witnessed its awesomeness in the movie [The Lord of the Rings].
Tracing its origins in literature takes us back to 458 BC, in the prologue of Aeschylus’s <Agamemnon>, where the watchmen freak out over the beacon. Reading that scene, you go, ah, so that’s where [Lord of the Rings] got it from—pretty fun…… Anyway.
“Truly, this primitive method works for long-distance communication? The Void everywhere distorts perception.”
“The Void? That monster hell?”
“Yes.”
“No worries. My beacons cross the hell intact and are visible. You saw the smoke pillar yourself, Undertaker, long before arriving.”
True.
“It looks like a flame on the surface, but it’s different.”
Thud. Nenets tossed firewood into the brick beacon tower’s firebox.
“See here. Look inside the firebox—the firewood’s intact, right?”
“Oh.”
“The flame ignites only when you add firewood, but it doesn’t actually burn it. Just the act of ‘putting in firewood’ makes it blaze.”
“Even in snow or rain……?”
“Burns fine.”
My eyes lit up.
“Wait. I spotted the smoke pillar from about 1,000 km away. So no matter the weather, these beacons are visible 1,000 km out, guaranteed?”
“Hmm. You inferred that without explanation. Not sure about exactly 1,000 km, but very far, yes.”
“……!”
No way, this was huge!
I paced excitedly around the beacon tower. It was just a plain brick structure, nothing more.
“Fascinating, truly fascinating. Mr. Nenets, what exactly triggers the ability?”
“First, build a beacon tower. I experimented with torches, but you can’t move while lit—it has to look like a proper beacon tower. A mere firewood pile works but less effectively.”
“That’s it?”
“No, now the key part.”
Nenets shook his head.
“Any ordinary fire is useless. It only works with embers from a fire I’ve lit—turning it into this weird monster flame.”
I sorted my thoughts.
“I see. If I take an ember from this tower’s flame and light another elsewhere……?”
“It’ll blaze sky-high just like here. If you build the tower right.”
“Ah.”
I tested it immediately.
Outside Naryan-Mar, I built a simple beacon tower and transferred an ember via torch.
Whoosh……
Added firewood to the firebox and lit it. Soon, the ember bloomed like a flower. Smoke soon poured from the chimney—
“Oooh!”
The smoke shot straight up.
As if no wind blew aloft, it soared relentlessly.
Like a space elevator, a pillar of smoke erected to the heavens.
‘…This might just spark a small innovation in my regressor project.’
An utterly simple power.
‘Light a fire in a beacon tower, and it’s visible far away.’
Useless for personal survival or combat.
Yet I sensed potential in this simplicity. Like when I first found Seo-gyu’s <Ubiquitous>.
‘If we could erect these beacons worldwide every 1,000 km……?’
No intricate info exchange like the forums.
‘But at least we’d instantly know which regions are in danger.’
I lingered a few more days, testing Nenets’s beacons. As he claimed, blizzards didn’t extinguish them.
An astonishing harvest.
“Mr. Nenets, I think ‘Holy Flame’ suits this power.”
“Holy Flame? Like the Olympic torch?”
“Yes.”
Legend has it that in ancient Greece, embers from Delphi’s temple flame were carried to other cities’ temples.
To Greeks, Delphi was the world’s center.
Flames brought from earth’s core to each city were then passed to ordinary citizens’ homes.
Thus, the flame in my hearth connected to others, breathing in sync with the world’s heart.
The world was made of fire.
The Holy Flame was thus the embodiment of ‘ubiquity’—existing anytime, anywhere.
“Sounds a bit grandiose……”
“Not at all. I’ll carry your embers across the world.”
“……”
Nenets scratched his cheek. He hadn’t expected me to be this thrilled.
“Well, if you insist. Use it well.”
4
A short epilogue.
When it was time to part from Nenets, I casually asked.
“Ever thought of coming to Busan?”
“Busan?”
“Yes. Can’t say it’s great for everyone, but it functions somewhat like a city.”
Nenets pondered.
“…No, I’ll pass. Don’t want to leave my homeland now.”
“I see.”
“No regrets in life. Posting on that site was just for fun. Meeting someone like you at the end? Divine providence.”
Nenets stroked a reindeer’s neck.
“Can’t abandon the ones my uncle left…… If you’re that grateful, teach me the secret to that aura whatever superpowered thing.”
“Got it. I’ll give you private lessons.”
In the end, Nenets stayed alone in the ‘White City.’
In the 669th round, to prove the Holy Flame’s efficacy, I truly raced around the world.
I may detail building beacons globally someday.
After years of work, I returned to Naryan-Mar with premium distilled liquor.
“Mr. Nenets?”
But Nenets was gone.
Neither in the tent where he’d served biscuits and chocolate, nor the hospital rooftop hideout.
Only the unquenchable beacon burned lonely.
I found Nenets far from Naryan-Mar, in the tundra.
Impaled on a 15-meter reindeer’s antler, the last Nenets lay dead.
Mutual destruction.
“……”
The reindeer was so massive that neither it nor Nenets were fully buried in snow.
He’d clung awkwardly to his bloodline’s traditions until death. As I buried him, a thought struck.
When death nears, people tidy their pasts.
Might a race facing extinction do the same?
Realizing he was the final survivor of an ancient lineage.
The flames and smoke burning softly worldwide were, perhaps, Nenets’s legacy.
-Igniter. End.