The Death Race was a tradition of District 49.
In fact, considering the history of District 49, the history was so short that it was almost embarrassing to call it a tradition.
'But history isn't necessarily made just because it's been a long time.'
In a place where every day is urgent, even a year can feel as long as eternity.
In such a place, rules that have continued for more than decades are worthy enough to be called history.
District 49 is a space ruled by several enormous biker gangs.
Moreover, as you can see from the environment here, it was a desolate place where sandstorms raged.
Food wasn't particularly abundant, and resources were limited to discarded junk.
To survive there, one had no choice but to take from others.
'Although there's the possibility of distributing external goods, that alone wouldn't open up a way forward.'Naturally, there would be constant struggles for survival within.
Even if not for survival, people would steal from others to live more prosperously.
For them, struggle had become not a means but a way of life.
However, excessive struggle eventually leads to weakness.
Especially when an organization grows larger, from that point on, they needed some justification for every move they made.
'That's why the gangs collaborated to create the Race Rule.'
Since fighting each other all the time caused too much damage, they created a rule to settle disputes through racing instead of fighting.
At first, there was considerable resistance questioning such a rule, but once implemented, it turned out better than expected and became tradition.
'The scale of the race varies depending on the level of conflict that needs to be resolved.'
Minor fights where some faction or branch disappears aren't subject to races.
And if two organizations are involved, the race is conducted only between those two organizations.
Other gangs can watch it or get involved. The rules didn't restrict such things and kept it free.
While this might sound like a peaceful alternative of replacing conflicts with races, the reality was quite different.
"You see, a race here means a sprint where you bet your life."
As alcohol took effect, the seemingly reticent guest's tongue loosened.
"They'll do anything to run faster and farther than others. And racing isn't simply about competing in speed. Any action against opponents is tolerated in the process."
A race where anything goes.
If I can't run fast, even preventing the opponent from running at all determines the outcome of the race.
It's not like drag racing where you compete who reaches the finish line faster within set rules.
It’s a brutal competition where cowardly means and fouls are all allowed and the field where this race takes place is the entire District 49.
That is the Death Race.
The Death Race doesn't end unless all opponents die or surrender from exhaustion.
Even if innocent people get caught up in the race.
Even if you yourself die.
They never stop.
They are crystallizations created by unrestrained madness and obsession.
That's what the gangs of District 49 were like.
"That Dead Wheel gang also retreated here because they didn't want to get involved in the race. This place is relatively okay since it's on the outskirts. But if the race continues for long and the flames spread gradually, even this settlement won't be entirely safe."
"So it's better for the race to end quickly. But what are they having a race for anyway?"
"How should I know? Seems like they're trying to monopolize something precious that an outside company came looking for."
Because of that, rumors spread that there's treasure in District 49.
That's why all other major gangs mobilized as well.
They couldn't let other gangs get the treasure, and if they got it, they could make enormous money.
Osian ended up getting involved with just David into that whirlpool of chaos
*
Morning dawned.
The nights in District 49 were cold, and the mornings became scorching hot as soon as the sun rose.
The wind was still stuffy, and visibility was hazy with sand dust.
Beyond the shimmering heat haze, rusty steel bars lay scattered like ruins of an archaeological site.
"Hey. Are you really going?"
Mary, worried about Osian and David who had finished their preparations, asked.
Despite sufficient warnings yesterday, the two didn't listen.
Considering their skills, they probably wouldn't die from getting shot somewhere, but in the Death Race, deaths by gunshot were rather rare.
Even for someone with exceptional skills, it would be difficult to stay unharmed in this chaos where numerous gangs move all at once.
"We have to go. That's what we came for."
There was no hesitation in Osian's voice.
"What about you, David?"
"I have to go too. If the successor goes, that's my path."
And if Osian says he's going, David goes with him.
Mary shook her head, unable to handle David's clear answer.
"Men, really."
Mary handed Osian a pair of boots she had brought just in case.
"Take these if you're going."
"These are..."
Osian examined the boots. The boots made of brown leather were too fancy to be considered items from District 49.
The boots themselves were decorated with beautiful patterns in gold thread.
Even sophisticated metal spurs were attached to the boot heels.
"You've dressed up in everything else, but wearing shoes that look like they belong to a gentleman will only make you stand out."
Though he wore a scarf, poncho, hat, and mask, his shoes weren't like that, visible with every step.
Osian changed into the boots Mary gave him. They fit perfectly even though no size was measured.
Rolling his feet around, there was no uncomfortable feeling. It was as if they were made for Osian from the start. That's how good the fit was.
"I'm not sure if I should accept something this precious."
"Just take them. They don't have an owner anyway. Henry cherished them dearly. He loved them so much he never even wore them after buying them."
"So they belonged to someone who died."
"What, uncomfortable? Just think of them as spoils of war."
"I don't particularly mind. Rather, I'm happy to get something good."
With the boots on, Osian truly looked like a wanderer of District 49.
Even David whistled in admiration at the sight.
"Now you could pass for a local. As long as you don't take off the gas mask."
"Spare me the flattery. Let's get moving now."
"Yes. Let's do that."
The two left the settlement, looking in the direction of the rising morning sun.
The villagers came out to the main gate to watch them leave, until the figures of the two walking through the wasteland were swallowed by the sandstorm and disappeared from sight.
*
The wasteland of District 49 is a dangerous place.
During the day, the sun blazes so hot it could burn your skin, and at night, as if that heat was a lie, the cold penetrates your bones.
"What truly terrible weather."
Although District 49 was on the outermost edge of Tirna, it was strange that the climate difference was this extreme.
While it was connected to the desert region along the southern route, this was a bit too much.
"What on earth happened here?"
Osian muttered while looking at a huge steel structure.
The structure, half-buried in sand, was rusted and appeared to be the remains of some building.
If remains of this size were left in an abandoned district, it must have been quite impressive in scale before being abandoned.
"Originally, District 49 wasn't this harsh of an environment. They say it was livable enough that with a bit more proper development, it could have rivaled the districts in the 20s."
"It was meant to be a kind of outpost for Tirna to expand outward. Even just looking at these ruins, traces of that time remain."
"Yes. But that's now a distant story."
"How did it end up falling this far?"
If it had been an abandoned district from the start, that would be one thing, but judging by the traces, Tirna seemed to have made significant investments in District 49.
"I don't know the details either. It has been like this since I was born. But there was a story the elders would sometimes tell like a fairy tale."
"What was it?"
"They said judgment fell upon District 49 when it was once a good place to live. The elders called the incident of that time [The Second Coming of Fire]."
"The Second Coming of Fire. Quite a grand name."
"Yes. But considering it made District 49 like this, and even after time passed the land wouldn't recover, it's worthy of such a name. Of course, since I didn't see it directly, I don't know if this is accurate."
David gazed at the wasteland spread out beyond his goggles, which was no different from his hometown.
While the elders might recall the prosperous past in this landscape, it wasn't easy for David to do so.
He had seen this scenery since birth. That's why it was hard to believe that this place was once good to live in.
"The elder who told the story claimed to be a survivor of the Second Coming of Fire."
"What happened to that person?"
"They died before I escaped District 49. They were already mentally unstable, and finally passed away from old age. Considering what kind of place this is, it was a peaceful death."
But there was one thing they could be certain about.
"The Second Coming of Fire was artificially created."
"Yes. While I don't know exactly what it was, seeing how it made one district desolate for decades, it must have been something truly unbelievable."
David recalled the story of the now-deceased elder.
True to its name, they said fire rained down from the sky.
Those flames didn't stop at erasing one city, but literally purified an entire district.
It was literally like a thorough cleaning had taken place but despite that, people still lived in District 49.
"I can see the path now. This is the third settlement."
"It seems larger in scale than the places we've passed."
"That means we're getting closer to the center."
Mary had said they needed to pass through three settlements to reach the center.
They could take other routes, but those were easier to get lost on.
The settlements were like rest stops located at minimum path points to reach certain locations.
Thanks to their luck, the two hadn't encountered any conflicts until reaching the third settlement.
"Once we pass there, the next area is Old Town, which could be called the central part."
And Old Town was where the war disguised as Death Race was most actively taking place right now.
David hoped they could pass through Old Town without incident as well, but that was realistically impossible.
As they were trudging toward the third settlement, a group suddenly rushed out of the settlement and approached where Osian and David were.
"What's this? Doesn't look like a welcome party."
"Rather than that, it looks like they're being chased out by something."
Osian's excellent eyesight carefully observed the group approaching them.
They looked more like settlement residents than gang members.
They were trying to get as far away from the settlement as possible with faces full of fear.
Their coming toward Osian and David wasn't to seek help after spotting them.
Their escape route just happened to overlap with the path the two were taking.
"No, maybe it's not a coincidence. They seem to be trying to evacuate to the settlements we passed through."
"But why..."
While the two were talking, the residents saw Osian and David and shouted loudly.
"Hey! Run away! You'll die if you go there!"
They passed by Osian and David without explaining why.
Just giving the warning was kind enough.
And they could probably guess the reason without being told.
Because from the area where the residents had fled, a group could be seen approaching through a cloud of dust.
"David."
"Yes."
"Prepare for battle. It looks like we won't be able to pass through easily this time."
Even without Osian saying so, David had already drawn his sword.
He too had sensed the danger from watching how things were unfolding.
David's sword was a special longsword that Osian had requested Eldin to make.
Though inferior to what Osian used, it was still a very useful sword since Eldin made it.
"Take this."
Osian took out a shield from his spatial bracelet and handed it to David.
David accepted it without refusing. David, who hadn't yet mastered Starlight, wasn't ready to face bullets barehanded like Osian.
Meanwhile, the distant group had come close enough to be visible to the naked eye.
Most were riding jeeps, but they seemed to have been heavily modified, with sharp spikes and attachments all over them.
Perhaps due to modifying the engines as well, thick black smoke constantly poured from the back of the vehicles.
David's expression hardened when he saw them.
"It's Mining Heavy Industries."
In David's voice as he muttered this, there was a slight trace of fear.