CHAPTER 10 - Backfire

SHIN WOO AND I HAVE NOTHING in common. To be honest, if we weren't assigned as roommates in freshman year, Shin Woo would've been part of the basketball club or judo club or whatever while I'd have been waddling around lectures and hallways without a plan but with too many friends. None that would have my back while I threw up after drinks out with classmates.

But we did meet and the thing about two opposite people winding up as friends is, you end up doing things the other does just because.

Like how I know a thing or two about forest fires just because Shin Woo is the boring grandpa who'd watch television documentaries like that.

Foras doesn't hold back as he hits the back of my head. I don't even feel half of it. "Did you lose your mind when you fell down?!"

I swat him off and move back from the horizontal trial of fire I have started again, parallel to the first one. "You're the one who said there could be a chance for shortcuts."

"And?"

"I'm creating one."

Back in freshman year, Shin Woo and I happened to catch a documentary. It was basically about survival in the wild and other hardcore stuff that I wouldn't naturally care for. With no one in the common room, the T.V. all to ourselves and nothing better to watch, we actually ended up watching the thing.

It was a multitude of interviews from people who survived different disasters. Ranging from falling into an ice covered pond to getting lost in a desert. There was also this firefighter who shared his story.

"I don't see how adding more fire to the equation helps anything."

Ignoring Foras, I keep running backward. If there was a water source, even without thinking about it, I'd run to it. But Gaal's Grove felt just like a never-ending plantation of only one kind of tree —a gigantic kind of tree— that running blindly around it looking for one was as good as suicide.

Even with the distance, the heat is intense. Sweat baths me, flowing like a second skin. I'm pretty sure that if not for my Grade D gear, as frail as it is, I might actually get burned from the heat. Foras complains more but I don't take my eyes off as I observe from a safe distance.

Done wrong, just like Foras is screaming at me, I would've definitely started a second fire sealing my only way of retreat. But desperation is a hefty tool in times of need and desperation kinda helps you do things right.

Before us, the second line of fire I started on the higher ground quickly spreads lower, in the direction of the wind. While the sea of flames that was chasing us is climbing quickly, in acute need for more air to fuel its fire. I move as far as I can from the line of the imminent crossfire, hoping with every inch of me that it'd work.

In the muted darkness of the forest, I can only make out the areas on fire. The fire I started first has magnified, stronger and fiercer till it dances like a mighty serpent. Comparatively, the fire I started later looks a lot smaller.

My heart thuds loudly against the chaos in my ears and my eyes don't waver. I never stop looking at the two fires, catching my breath as they both grow closer and closer. I have absolutely no hold over the concept of time. It probably takes a few minutes. Or it is a few hours of burning timber but they finally meet.

The crossfire is nothing like I've seen before. Like a flood of orange and red, both the fires meet halfway down the high ground. The first fire is ferocious, pumping out heat and gas– a mini supernova. It quickly drinks the newer fire, pulling it in like a colossal vacuum cleaner.

They entangle like liquid in liquid, soon impossible to differentiate. I wait with bated breath. Beside me, Foras hits his head.

"We're doomed," he whispers. For once, he isn't speaking in paroxysms. I choose to ignore him and turn back to the elemental cannibalism happening in front of us.

The bigger fire devours everything swiftly.

This time, the System arrives in my head quietly. "You're here," I observe as the now-familiar cold embraces me like slow poison.

"I think you're suicidal," she notes back and I roll my eyes.

"Just reckless," I correct her, with a shrug. "I'm trying to survive."

She doesn't say anything back but I'm pretty sure she rolled her imaginative eyes too. Before us, the unified fire stands tall and bright, nowhere near exhaustion. Foras hits my head again with trembling hands but I push him off and wait. Between us and the fire, a barren land of embers extends, erasing all traces of the once enormous forest.

Time stretches. You know, starting the fire is the easier part. But waiting for the backfire to work was like watching a foreign film without subtitles. Long, boring and borderline agonising. With hours tumbling around us like slowed dominos, everything finally fits in like I hastily envisioned.

The more we wait, the more I realise that the darkness to Gaal's Grove wasn't because of the Stygian fir. It is simply dark, for no reason. This is what I would call lazy game designing.

Soon, there aren't any more trees for the fire to ingest. The fire takes away the huge trees up with it, only leaving searing cinder behind. A lot later, even the smoke is gone.

"What happens when the entire forest gets destroyed?" I ask the System. "Will it reload everything?"

Unsurprisingly, the System doesn't reply.

"Well?" I press and she heaves a tired sigh.

"I can't converse in any way while within a quest, hero."

Why do I even bother?

After what feels like infinity, I stand up from where I had been waiting. Foras had fallen asleep nearby, using my lap for a pillow. I flick his forehead hard and with a startled cry, he wakes up. Drool, eye crust, the whole package.

Explaining would only invite more arguments and exasperated sighs so without spending my words on this unhelpful bunch, I wear my worn out backpack. There are hardly any extra clothes to tie around myself and my feet. But time is of utmost essence and I had wasted a pretty large sum while waiting for the fire and embers to go out.

I dust myself, preparing my heart which –in normal circumstances– would be in the ICU by now. Might as well scratch it up as another brash move in my now ever-growing list of foolishly brash moves. I clench my jaws and tighten my fists. And then, I take off. Into the vast arid grounds of burnt Gaal's Groove.

Here's to hoping my Grade D boots actually hold out.