Chapter 360: Do You Know That a Meteor Shining in the Starry Sky is Beautiful Because It Carries Human Desires and Shines for a Moment? Vol. 14 (4)
Chapter 360: Do You Know That a Meteor Shining in the Starry Sky is Beautiful Because It Carries Human Desires and Shines for a Moment? Vol. 14 (4)
Today, too, I walk this godforsaken world alone.
The Flame Dragon, harboring black flames that consume its own body, burned the sky that was once as blue as a sapphire sea. Every night before I sleep, I pray for that blackened sky to shine blue once more, but its color never fades.
Every morning when I open my eyes and look up, I only feel the dark, black energy encroaching further upon my body.
If only there were a warm father or mother sun, I might live with some semblance of pride. But what has replaced those graceful celestial bodies is a Red Sphere. Though it disguises itself with sun-like light, it cannot hide the black malice within, scorching everything beneath the heavens.
How much time has passed since the world became like this?
Even the cell phone—a convenience of civilization and the culmination of human history—is worthless now that the electricity is cut. It is nothing more than a relic of nostalgia, a way to recall the past.
Thus, I do not know today's date. For someone like me, for whom every day is a struggle to survive, the very concept of a "day"—another human invention to keep the world flowing—is far too heavy a burden.
Still, the fact that I can maintain such philosophical and profound thoughts might be proof that I am still human.
Perhaps I am the last human left on Earth.
I chuckled at the thought, recalling the plots of novels I had read back when the world was a better place.
But as a survivor clinging to life, standing amidst the arrogant ruins of fire as perhaps the last of humanity, I know such stories are mere illusions.
The last human in fiction always possesses a mission and the power to save mankind.
I, however, am merely a teenager who happened to be lucky enough to survive.
Like the protagonists of those stories, or the Awakened who exist in reality, I go to sleep every night hoping to awaken to power. But all that returns is a sky filled with darkness and a sun filled with malice.
And then there are the followers of the red fire—beings who have lost their subjective humanity to the point where I don't know if they can even be called people anymore—who do nothing but praise the sun.
All that remains is a hunger that no one born human can endure.
And so, I wander the ruins.
I strive to find food while avoiding those lunatics who try to spread their fire to others.
Fortunately, there is plenty of water.
There are rivers nearby, and the water quality isn't bad.
As for food, I can find enough if I'm willing to put in the legwork.
The non-humans who worship the fire don't seem to need to eat or drink; if I go to a convenience store or a mart, I can find plenty of items that haven't reached their expiration dates yet.
Until recently, there was the danger of encountering other survivors or non-humans.
But even that danger has vanished now.
It’s been ages since I last saw a survivor. And while the non-humans used to sprint through the city actively hunting for people, they are now too busy praying to their false red sun to notice me, as long as I don't stand right in their line of sight.
And so, I live out this meaningless life, day by day.
I do not know the reason why I live.
Perhaps it's because the density of this new life is too high. My past life in the old world is blurred like a fog, unreadable.
I can hardly even recall the relationships I once had.
Then or now, I am a lone wolf.
...Thinking that sounded a bit cool makes me a real idiot, doesn't it?
There must have been so many others who deserved to survive more than me.
I am someone who can do nothing.
Unlike the characters in survival novels, I have never fought other survivors, never saved anyone from a non-human attack, and never actively hunted down those fire-worshippers.
To put it poetically, I could say it's because "staining one's hands with human blood means losing one's human dignity." But to be honest, it's simply because I'm a coward.
If I meet a violent survivor, I give them everything I have.
If I see someone being attacked, I run away quickly and quietly.
I avoid the non-humans entirely.
That is how I survived.
Though it feels like this thin, disgusting life is about to reach its end.
"Nothing here either."
With a bitter smile reflecting my despair for the future, I looked around a neighborhood mart that was relatively clean, aside from the dust.
It seemed other survivors had already swept through; all that remained were bulky items or things near their expiration dates.
This has been a recurring theme lately.
The food that was once plentiful is gradually running out.
Every time this happens, I move to a new residence, but now I encounter the same phenomenon even after moving...
Should I try going much further away?
Just as I was thinking that, planning to grab enough to fill my stomach for the day and leave—
...What is this?
A book caught my eye.
A single book rolling on the floor.
Its cover was decorated with a full-color, comic-style illustration in primary colors. It shone with a pristine light amidst the ruins, as if the plastic wrap had just been removed.
That anomaly piqued my interest.
I thought I had spent all my time since the start of this survival ordeal just thinking about staying alive, yet here I was, eyeing something like this again.
With that thought, I picked up the book with the hand that was cradling my food.
On the cover, a man holding a gun, drawn in an anime style, stood looking this way.
Do You Know That a Meteor Shining in the Starry Sky is Beautiful Because It Carries Human Desires and Shines for a Moment?
A book with such a long title.
"...It's not even Volume 1."
Volume 14.
To think a book with such a ridiculous title could run for so long.
Did it have a dedicated fanbase?
Since it was such an awkward volume number, I considered throwing it away.
But soon, I decided to take it as a sign of fate and walked down the street with the book tucked under my arm.
It wasn't like reading it once would cause any problems.
* * *
I read through the book.
Page by page.
Within it was written the story of a desperate man.
Compared to the people around him who possessed flashy powers, it was the tale of an Awakened who fought with nothing but a single long rifle.
And yet, I couldn't truly empathize with his tragedy.
The way he got hurt in the book was depicted almost comically, and the treatment he received was portrayed like actors performing in a gag show on a TV screen.
His life, as described in this book, felt like one cheap joke.
The strange narrative style made it impossible to tell what the story was trying to show.
The bizarre prose, the unlikable protagonist, and the protagonist's personality and speech patterns that shifted wildly as if the setting were constantly collapsing.
Perhaps because it was already Volume 14, even the explanations for the characters were lacking.
Someone would appear for a single conversation or a name drop and then vanish.
Another would wield a power that made absolutely no sense.
And yet, I kept reading.
The book held me as if I couldn't pull away.
Just like that, I sped through the book.
There were perhaps only 10 to 20 pages left.
At that final moment—
"...He dies here?"
The protagonist died.
And in a very miserable, cowardly way at that.
He abandoned his comrades who had fought alongside him.
Kiraring★Magical★Beast.
Thunder Force.
DR. Doctor.
Scully, the Singer of Death.
The protagonist, Yu-seong, in his final moment, didn't even look back as his comrades fell to the claws of an Ice Bird clad in frost. He just ran.
However, the situation was incredibly strange.
The dying comrades opened a path for him, as if determined to let at least the protagonist escape.
They even threw out lines about entrusting The End to him.
And on the very previous page, the protagonist had been muttering to himself, steeling his resolve for battle.
Yet, he ran.
Without doing anything, even throwing his gun away.
And so, the protagonist who was supposed to shoulder all those sacrifices and seek revenge...
He didn't even die by The Enemy Ice Bird's claws. He simply got caught in a mundane ice storm and froze to death.
"What is this?"
It was absurd.
Really? He dies like this?
Is it perhaps a power that wasn't mentioned in this volume? Something all the readers of previous volumes already knew?
Right, there's no way it ends like this.
There are still pages left, aren't there?
With that thought, I turned to the next page.
And there, it was written:
【 The next Meteor is you. 】
...
The world turns upside down.
Everything I believed in collapses.
Vomit spills from my mouth.
A version of myself that I do not know rises to the surface.
And when I woke up.
I was standing dazed in the middle of the vomit I had spewed.
I slowly looked around.
"...I need to get a gun first."
Muttering that, I glanced at the Phoenix’s orb of light floating in the air.
Then, I left that place.
* * *
The story after that isn't important.
I quickly confirmed my new location.
I sneaked into the nearest Management Bureau, stole a sniper rifle, and just ran.
the past of this physical body doesn't matter.
The owner of this new body was someone who appeared out of thin air, assigned as the newly born Meteor.
In the process of investigating this special ability, the Management Bureau confirmed that the owner of this body was a human who had never existed in this world before.
A being born with the destiny to be the new Meteor, living a short life of only a few months.
Some said it was a being from another world.
Others said that because of my ability, the past of a human who originally existed was erased without anyone knowing.
There was much agonizing during that process.
I thought about the proof of my own existence.
The first Meteor must have been a very different being from me.
Even comparing myself to the first Meteor through my own memories.
I am different from him not only in appearance but also in speech, logic, and thought.
That is why I agonized for a long time every time this phenomenon occurred.
But now, I don't worry about it so much.
I am me, and I exist as Meteor.
The guarantee of having the same soul, as proven by Calavera, isn't that important.
Because my life is like a brief, shining meteor.
The first Meteor took the name Meteor because he was a sniper.
But now, the meaning is different.
A Hero born to shine for a single moment. Meteor.
It doesn't matter which generation I am.
I simply exist as the Hero Meteor.
Memories, the past, actions, consciousness—none of that matters.
Only the gun in my hand proves that I am Meteor.
And so, I cross the burning plains.
I step over the corpses of my comrades.
I put bullets into the heads of those with familiar faces who have been consumed by the flames.
I do the things that couldn't be done.
I dodge the dancing flames.
They are slower than the Thunder God’s.
I sacrifice my gun to parry an incoming claw.
The strike is weaker than Lee Ha-ram’s.
I am Meteor.
A brief, shining desire that will sacrifice itself to carry humanity forward.
The Meteor of this generation, too, simply withered away in the Phoenix’s flames.
* * *
Time passes.
Once again, I face the Phoenix.
I don't remember exactly how many times this has been.
Perhaps more than a dozen Meteors have died in this single battle against this entity.
Still, I come back here with a single rifle.
To shine without breaking.
「 Do you not fear death? 」
It asks.
I answer in my heart.
I am afraid of death.
In the memories of countless past Meteors, they are submerged in an eternal void, silenced for a long time.
The time spent in the void varies for each.
For some, it's a day; for others, it's hundreds of years.
They pass through that and reach a Blue Sea.
In that sea where they look back on their lives.
They choose death anew.
They dive into the Blue Sea before their eyes, hold their breath, and die.
And then, everything begins again.
That process is riddled with long agony and regret.
But no one, though they may hesitate, ever refuses it.
However.
Ting.
The sniper rifle in my hand is kicked away by the Phoenix.
I have no weapon.
Realizing this, the Phoenix lunges at me.
And I open my mouth.
"Do you know the best way to make fear... not scary?"
The Phoenix does not answer.
But it doesn't matter.
Everything is about to end now.
I lay my body down right there and took my stance.
Shhh.
As I swept my hand across the ground, my fingers closed around a black rifle.
The single gun left behind by the very first Meteor who reached this place.
I picked it up and aimed at the brow of The Enemy charging toward me.
"It's to turn the thing that causes fear into a joke. No matter how great a ruler, how massive a faith, or how unforgettable a feat it may be."
I slowly pulled the trigger.
"If it falls to the point where everyone looks at it and makes it a punchline, once that's etched into memory, people will think of laughter instead of fear when they see it."
Bang.
The smell of gunpowder rose with the smoke.
A slight shock hit my body as it connected with the gun.
"And my death has been consumed like a third-rate comedy for a long time now."
From The Hole created by the bullet, the flames began to die out.