Ceo's POV
After that, walking up to them, I put aside my black messenger bag on the side on the pavement and fell on my knees in front of them. "I saw seen your way of coping with trauma of the fire…" I said to my comrade, "…Burn me, so I may restore Francisco's classics from the Roman era."
My comrade did so, turned his flamethrower on me, and burned me with the orange and yellow flames.
As I burned, I remembered the Roman classics by Seneca and Virgil, and through my burning essence, the books of theirs materialized, all leather and hard bound and in pristine condition.
They were in front of me as I regenerated myself.
All I had on me are soot.
I held these books, stood up, and whispered to the wind of the Valencian plaza, "Here are your books, Señor Jean. These are for your home library."
Meanwhile, a few of my flame brothers were doing their self-immolation when we witnessed something strange and awestriking: a Phoenix forming and lingering in the smoke of their own eternal essence. It flapped its wings, before transmuting into rectangular books in different leather colors with gold-foiled stamps and others that are modern paperbacks.
That sight replaced the salamander now.
"Now, we are the Firemen of the Word and the Land," one of us declared in the open air.