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The steps are light. The gestures are lively. Following the predetermined path, I set fire to everything in sight.

After prying open the fuel cap of an abandoned car, I throw a lit match inside. I hurl a Molotov cocktail into a park filled with fallen leaves, trash, and corpses. I stuff burning newspaper into a drainage ditch piled with leaves.

“Haha.”

The ground begins to turn as red as the sunset sky. Flames tinted with the hues of dusk spew black smoke like the darkness of night. Red and black. Truly the colors of the apocalypse.

I chuckle and click the lighter. A strange sense of euphoria colors my mind, as if I were drunk.

“Watching the fire from across the river? Nah. Setting the fire myself is way more fun.”

I’m happy. I’m fulfilled. I’m thrilled.

Is this how it feels to bungee jump without a safety harness? A once-in-a-lifetime thrill.

Unable to contain my excitement, my hands tremble. Then, a voice calls out from behind.

“This… this.”

It’s Sajihyeok’s bewildered voice. I glance back to see him standing there, dumbfounded, staring at the path we’ve left behind.

The streets we set ablaze. In the distance, flames roar from the mountains near the townhouses, and black smoke rises like fog across the city.

Faintly, I think I hear the screams of people and the growls of zombies.

It feels like even my other companions have been setting fires, as I see flames and smoke rising from other directions too.

“Is this… right?”

Sajihyeok finally manages to speak. Even though we planned and prepared for this, seeing it in reality feels different.

“Are you saying this now?”

“But this… this is…”

Sajihyeok, who usually speaks clearly, stumbles over his words, repeating them clumsily, likely due to shock.

Not just Sajihyeok, but Park Yang-gun and Jeondohyeong are also trembling as they watch the world burn. Their movements are awkward, like broken dolls.

“What on earth are we doing…?”

“This is different from stealing.”

I grin. Regret? Guilt? Too late for that. The flames are already out of control. The fire we started has become a natural disaster, consuming the city, a death that no human hand can stop.

“Everyone. The fire has already been lit, and there’s no turning back. This city is doomed anyway, so let’s grab what resources we can and escape.”

There’s no going back. This is a freefall.

If we give up now, it’ll just be meaningless slaughter. To rationalize our survival, we have no choice but to stick to the plan.

Park Yang-gun, without his helmet, suddenly turns to look at me. I, too, wanted to feel the fire firsthand, so I’m not wearing a helmet either. Our eyes meet.

“Kim Da-in… are you smiling right now?”

“Well, it’s not like I should be crying.”

“…”

Occasionally, the faint sound of cars exploding echoes, and the cozy crackle of burning wood fills the air.

In the silence, the three of them stare at me.

Then, rough footsteps and curses come from behind.

“What the hell is this fire…! Who are you! Riders?”

I turn around. Survivors from the area are rushing toward us, carrying red fire extinguishers.

‘Ah. Survivors.’

Come to think of it, there are survivors. Humans who’ve killed each other over food, but in the face of a massive fire, they might join hands.

A variable. No matter how much we set fires, if the survivors nearby panic and put them out immediately, it won’t have much effect.

I quickly change my expression and speak in a serious tone.

“A massive wildfire has broken out. We’re setting backfires to stop it from spreading.”

If I burn it first, the fire can’t reach it. It’s like how a criminal can’t do anything if you kill the hostage first.

I speak as if we’re carrying out a mission for the Alliance, and the survivors glare at me with hostility.

“Backfires? That fire’s going to kill us right now!”

“We know. Please gather your belongings and evacuate to the Survivor Zone. The Survivor Zone has fire safety measures. Just stay there until the fire dies down.”

Honestly, it’s not the most convincing argument. These are seasoned survivors who’ve made it this far. They’d naturally be suspicious of anyone’s words.

But the situation is what it is.

“There’s no time! Evacuate now! Spread the word to other survivors as you go! The Survivor Zone is safe!”

“Damn it.”

The survivor rolls their eyes, thinking something over, but eventually turns and starts running. After all, if they want to live, evacuation comes first.

Watching their retreating figure, I flick the lighter.

‘Well, the Survivor Zone probably does have fire safety measures. Even if it doesn’t, the other survivors will believe it does.’

Many survivors will head to the Survivor Zone to escape the fire. In a burning city, it’s the only safe place.

The Alliance will notice the fire, hear about the suspicious people setting backfires, and realize they’re under attack. The result will be chaos.

‘If they try to expel the suspicious people by kicking out the evacuees, the survivors won’t stand for it. If they accept the survivors, that’ll cause problems too.’

Chaos. It’ll be a mess. The influx of survivors alone will strain the Alliance.

I chuckle and gesture to my companions.

“Alright, let’s keep moving.”

My companions, like objects pulled by gravity or cars with broken brakes, follow me reluctantly.

***

Winter evenings come early. In a world without electricity, it feels even more pronounced. Without streetlights or any electric lighting, the darkness of night feels sharper.

But tonight, the city is bathed in bright light. Everywhere glows red, as if electricity has returned.

A building slightly north of the Survivor Zone.

We briefly climb to the rooftop to look down at the city.

“Haha.”

I chuckle as I take in the spectacle. In the distance, the mountains near the townhouses are engulfed in smoke, burning brilliantly. Flames spread across the city.

It’s not just the path I took. My companions have also set fires.

Looking back, there’s a wall of flames there too. We set fires north of the Survivor Zone, in areas the Alliance would find troublesome to cover. Dry riverbeds with thick reeds.

Flames spread along the mountains, riverbeds, drainage ditches, and roads, moving from lines to surfaces.

Suddenly, Sajihyeok’s exhausted voice speaks up.

“It’s almost 7. Should we head to the Survivor Zone?”

Looking at my companions, they all seem tired. Some lean against the railing, others sprawl on the ground, completely drained of energy.

It’s understandable. Setting fires wasn’t easy. We fought survivors trying to stop us, dodged waves of zombies pouring into the streets, and even battled police scouts.

Even if you ignore the guilt or regret, exhaustion is inevitable.

I reply.

“We have to go. It’ll all be over in an hour or two.”

As I light a Molotov cocktail and toss it onto the rooftop, my companions silently move their heavy feet.

“…”

“…”

We march straight toward the Survivor Zone without conversation. Even as we move, I don’t stop setting fires. With a light flick of my wrist, I light matches and toss them into drainage ditches.

Sometimes I burn barricades blocking entrances, other times I hold a lighter to the sleeves of corpses lying on the road.

As we walk, it feels like the city is screaming.

Dogs and pigeons scatter in panic, and zombies run past us without a second glance.

Of course, some things remain unseen.

“I don’t see any survivors…”

The flames and smoke rising from everywhere are visible even from afar. Like signal fires. The survivors must have already noticed and evacuated.

But evacuating won’t save them.

With no firewood for winter and no food, they’ll all die anyway.

“We’re almost at the Survivor Zone.”

Park Yang-gun suddenly speaks in a dry voice, putting on his helmet. I slowly check my gear. I put on my helmet, count the remaining Molotov cocktails in my tote bag, and check the ammunition in the several handguns I’ve pulled from my pockets.

‘Our firepower is lacking.’

Compared to rifles or machine guns, our weapons are pitiful. But that’s not important. A single gunshot is enough to cause chaos.

As we approach the Survivor Zone, I see the figures of survivors rushing to evacuate. I smile as I see the backs of countless people in the distance.

Wherever and however they survived, the streets are packed with survivors murmuring.

As we get closer, their voices grow louder, and beyond the crowd, I see a makeshift platform made of stacked desks. On it, under temporary electric lights, stand a firefighter and Rider Zero.

“This is terrorism…”

“We need to unite…”

I can’t quite hear what they’re saying from this distance.

Something about how backfires aren’t set like this, that this is the work of madmen, that we must unite to stop this terrorism, that the Alliance has ample firefighting supplies…

Even in this chaos, Rider Zero emphasizes unity, and surprisingly, it works. Survivors, backed into a corner, nod one by one, setting aside their hostility.

I pull out a handgun, aim it at the back of someone’s head, and fire.

Bang. The dry gunshot echoes, and the person falls with a hole in their head. Silence falls, and countless eyes turn to me. In their gaze, I grin and shout.

“The Police Officer Leader says to kill them. There might be pillagers among you.”

I glance at my watch. It’s 7. In the distance, gunfire echoes from the opposite side of the Survivor Zone. My companions are launching their attack.

 

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