BW C155

Chapter 155

Hoeun followed Taemuk’s movements with his eyes—found him, lost him, found him again, only to lose him once more.

Even from atop the high stone wall, watching only with his gaze, keeping up with Taemuk was nearly impossible.

Then, at some point, a shout rang out, muffled but sharp.

Taemuk snapped his head up and began to run—faster than before.

A heartbeat later, he slipped behind the wall of a large house and vanished.

“Uh…”

Unable to see him, Hoeun rose onto his toes, shifting his body left and right as if that might help.

“Young master.”

Gilsang called.

“Yes?”

Hoeun looked at him—and froze.

The world… had gone quiet.

The shikgoe cries that had been echoing off the mountains just moments earlier cut off as though someone had severed them.

All that remained was the heavy, sweeping growl of the winter wind.

“……”

Cautiously, Hoeun peered down at the shikgoe gathered at the base of the wall.

Their wrinkled necks were stretched forward, their gazes fixed on some vague point between earth and sky.

Their heads trembled with tiny spasms; blood-tinged drool dripped endlessly from their gaping jaws.

But they did not move.

He had seen this before.

On the road from Ramjae to Myeonghwa—those shikgoe had frozen like this as well. Not long after, Taemuk had appeared, holding the leader shikgoe’s skull-plate.

Taemuk had slain the leader.

Which meant…

“Prepare yourself.”

It was Hoeun’s turn.

“Yes.”

Hoeun lifted his pistol and aimed at the nearest shikgoe.

But “nearest” was still an enormous distance; he could not fire yet.

At this range, the bullet would not reach. Worse, a wind-bent shot might strike something—or someone—unintended.

Jeokudae soldiers, having noticed the paralysis, immediately slaughtered the shikgoe nearby.

Necks were cut, skull-plates shattered; in moments more than a hundred shikgoe lay dead.

Then suddenly—

The shikgoe shuddered, lowering their heads.

Kieeek! Kkek! Kieeeek!

Kaaaaagh!

They screeched at the soldiers.

They swung their limbs, snapped their jaws, feigning resistance—

then gradually retreated, step by step…

until, with a sudden jerk, they spun around and began to sprint toward the wall.

Their four massive legs pounded the ground viciously.

The sheer weight of their charge crushed the snowbanks around them, sending white plumes swirling upward and obscuring the view.

“……”

Hoeun’s face twisted in panic.

The steady snowfall already blurred his vision; now the storm of powder kicked up by the charging beasts made aiming nearly impossible.

Where was he supposed to point the gun?

Gilsang, who had been watching the same shikgoe, spoke.

“Young master, you may fire.”

“…Yes.”

Hoeun answered—but he could not bring himself to pull the trigger.

Aiming for the eye of a moving shikgoe was beyond difficult.

He had practiced shooting at swaying targets with Taemuk—but this was nothing like that.

I have to hit one.

Even one.

I must kill even one—

“……”

He swallowed repeatedly, held his breath, widened his eyes—

but still, he did not shoot.

He could not even align the shikgoe’s face properly with the sight.

“……”

Gilsang watched him silently.

He did not urge him, nor scold him.

He simply observed.

But to Hoeun, even that gaze felt like pressure.

And so, without realizing—

Bang!

He fired.

The explosive, ringing shot tore through the fluttering snow—

missed the shikgoe entirely—

and shattered someone’s roof tiles.

Hoeun choked on a gasp of despair.

“I—I’ll shoot again.”

There was no time for despair on the battlefield.

He had to shoot again.

Hoeun raised the pistol once more.

But this shot took even longer than the first.

He was terrified of missing.

He wanted to aim more precisely—more perfectly.

For a long time, his barrel chased the wildly running creature.

Then, finally, the shikgoe entered the sight.

Bang!

A sharp crack followed like a lightning strike.

Crash!

A jar platform exploded into shards—the shikgoe had already trampled past it.

“Ah…”

Hoeun slowly lowered his pistol.

His cheeks had gone pale.

Hopeless.

He had trained so hard—yet his shots were this wretched.

He had believed that even if he couldn’t strike its eye, at least the head—

But that had been arrogance.

How could someone like him kill a shikgoe?

Become a Jeokudae soldier?

A body useless his entire life would not suddenly become useful now.

He had dreamed too big.

Far, far too big.

His arm dropped completely.

His grip loosened so much the pistol nearly slipped from his fingers.

Then Gilsang called.

“Young master.”

“…Yes…”

Hoeun answered weakly.

He braced himself—certain Gilsang would finally scold him.

A man so kind yet so firm…

His criticism would cut sharply.

It would hurt.

Hoeun lowered his eyes—just as Gilsang asked:

“Do you know what I think about when I fight shikchoongi?”

Hoeun blinked stupidly.

“…What?”

“What do you think I’m thinking?”

“Uh… w-well… how to kill the shikgoe? Where to aim? How to swing your sword? Something like that, perhaps…”

“No.”

“Then…”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“…Pardon?”

Hoeun’s jaw shifted forward in surprise.

Gilsang, still staring at the shikgoe charging even as they opened their mouths wide in search of anything to devour, continued:

“When those pests come at you with their jaws open, who has time to think? You just swing first.”

“You… swing first?”

Hoeun blinked rapidly.

Gilsang’s blade had always been fast, precise—calculated.

To describe it as “swinging first” felt impossible.

“You must move on instinct on a battlefield.”

He turned to look directly at Hoeun.

“By instinct… you mean…”

“There is no time to think, aim, or plan.”

“……”

“So you, young master—just fire.”

“Just… fire…”

Hoeun repeated the words slowly.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

What if he missed?

Wouldn’t that waste bullets?

Better to land even a single true shot than waste ten.

He stroked the pistol’s grip with his thumb—hesitating.

Gilsang stepped closer.

“Do you remember what the General said earlier?”

“Which…”

“That you would not be allowed down until you used all your bullets.”

“…Ah.”

Hoeun looked down.

At his feet sat a small box of bullets.

Byeonguk had brought it, saying Taemuk had ordered him to deliver it.

A quick glance told him there were over a hundred rounds.

“There must be a reason.”

“A… reason…”

Taemuk would not expect him to kill a hundred shikgoe with a hundred bullets.

Taemuk knew his skill better than he did.

And yet he had given him this many bullets—

meaning he wanted him to use them.

“You can’t shoot at targets forever.”

He had said that.

Which meant Taemuk… did not see this battlefield as a battlefield.

He likely wanted Hoeun to treat it as another training ground.

Then Gilsang added:

“What if you miss? Just fire. The General can hear everything. Your shots, young master.”

Hoeun froze for a moment.

Yes—his shots would sound like a gong to Taemuk.

He would be listening.

These two pathetic shots he had fired—

Taemuk had heard them.

Realizing that, heat flared across Hoeun’s cheeks.

He was embarrassed.

To show such disgrace to his teacher—

He had no right to be his disciple.

If he could not make Taemuk proud, he should at least avoid disappointing him.

Hoeun’s eyes sharpened.

“I will shoot again.”

He would not descend until he used every bullet.

Determined, he aimed at the approaching shikgoe.

And this time—he did not think deeply.

Did not calculate.

Did not wait.

The moment the barrel aligned roughly with the target—

Bang!

The bullet flew overhead, cutting above the shikgoe’s skull before burying itself in the ground.

Hoeun did not despair.

He prepared the next shot immediately.

“……”

He had shot too high.

He already knew that.

The shikgoe was moving—so aiming at the head meant the bullet would hit behind it.

In that case—

Hoeun lowered the barrel once.

Then lowered it again.

He aimed around the creature’s solar plexus and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A crack rang out.

A spurt of blood erupted—

the first time a shikgoe bled from his bullet.

The shot had pierced its throat.

It let out a strange, gurgling cry and writhed, but it did not fall.

Hoeun locked onto it and fired again.

Bang!

This time the bullet struck its skull-plate, only a hand’s span from the eye—but the bone held firm.

The creature kept running.

“……”

Three shots now, and he still hadn’t killed it.

But Hoeun did not falter.

He simply adjusted—lowering his aim slightly as the beast drew nearer—

Bang!

A wet, bursting sound followed—

and a fountain of dark blood.

Thud!

The shikgoe toppled.