BW C187

Chapter 187

At that moment, Gilsang, who was observing the leading group alongside Hoeun, spoke up.

“We can’t chase it any farther.”

“What?”

Hoeun immediately shouted back—the rain was so loud that his voice barely carried. Gilsang raised his own voice in response.

“We need to turn back! I think we should!”

“Ah—yes! I think so too!”

Hoeun shouted back, nodding hard.

Of course, it would be ideal to keep chasing—but even if they did, the nest they had failed to find so far wasn’t going to magically appear. They might have to run another full day, or two, or even three. At this rate, it was simply too much.

The horses were already exhausted from the nonstop sprint. Their breath came out in thick, ragged clouds. On top of that, the ground had turned to mud, making every step a struggle.

It was disappointing—but now that they had learned how to lure shikgoe, it would be better to retreat and try again. If they started from here next time, they might be able to go farther.

Just then—

Urrrrrrrumble—

Thunder rolled again, and the rain grew even heavier. Darkness swallowed everything; Hoeun could barely make out Gilsang’s face beside him.

“Haah….”

Hoeun wiped his eyes hard with his sleeve. The rain made it impossible to keep them open. Eventually, he had to spit water out—phuh, phuh—as if he were swimming. His nostrils burned from inhaling rain, and cold shivers crept down his spine as water streamed down his back.

As they struggled on, the group gradually slowed—then came to a complete stop. Hoeun and Gilsang, at the very rear, pulled on their reins and halted as well.

The horse shook its head violently, snorting and gasping. Its labored breath carried straight through Hoeun’s body.

“Tired? Hang in there just a little longer. Looks like we’re heading home now.”

Hoeun murmured, stroking the horse’s neck.

But then—far ahead—Byeonguk, who had been riding near Taemuk, rode back through the formation, took a bow from an archer, and returned to the front.

Something felt off.

Hoeun narrowed his eyes, but the darkness made it hard to see. Rain lashed his face so fiercely that even keeping his eyes open hurt.

Still, through the downpour, he caught glimpses of Taemuk. Mounted on horseback, he was drawing his bow toward the front.

He meant to kill the shikgoe they had been following.

It had served its purpose—but they couldn’t let it live.

Taemuk didn’t take long to aim. The shikgoe wasn’t that far away, wasn’t zigzagging wildly—just running straight ahead. It would be an easy shot.

The arrow left Taemuk’s hand, slicing through the rain—

—Flash!

Lightning split the sky.

For an instant, the world turned white.

Between the dense fir trees, Hoeun saw the shikgoe running, metal bowls clattering at its neck. He saw the arrow flying straight toward it, unwavering even through the torrential rain, carrying the full force of Taemuk’s strength—

And then—

“Ah….”

Hoeun let out a short, breathless sound.

Thud!

The shikgoe collapsed onto the rain-soaked ground.

But not because of the arrow.

Nor had Taemuk missed.

The arrow struck a tree directly in line with the shikgoe’s head—no, not just struck, but pierced straight through, splitting the trunk apart with a cracking sound.

Yet the shikgoe had not been hit.

And still, it fell.

And did not rise again.

Frowning, Hoeun tried to make sense of it. Why? Just before the arrow reached the shikgoe, he thought he had seen something—something pitch-black—flash across its path like a shadow.

But before he could be sure, the thunder passed, and darkness swallowed everything again.

“Sergeant, just now—”

Hoeun turned to Gilsang, intending to ask whether he had seen the same thing.

But—

“……”

Gilsang stood rigid, his face locked as he stared ahead.

Hoeun’s heart dropped.

“…Don’t tell me…”

Had another shikgoe appeared?

But if that were the case, the ground should have shaken. There should have been sound.

Hoeun frantically scanned their surroundings. There was nothing—nothing to see, nothing to hear. Only suffocating darkness and rain pounding hard enough to hurt.

Suddenly, the darkness and the rain felt unbearably oppressive.

They were in an open world, yet it felt like being trapped inside a narrow box.

He couldn’t stop the rain—but he had to drive away this darkness. Otherwise, he felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“I—I brought a flashlight…”

With trembling hands, Hoeun fumbled through his saddlebag. The soaked leather resisted him, and his frozen fingers had lost most of their feeling. Still, he forced them to move, finally grasping the flashlight.

He clicked it on.

At that exact moment—

Urrrrrrrumble!

The thunder that had flashed earlier arrived two beats late.

“Hik—!”

Already on edge, Hoeun flinched violently and dropped the flashlight. He flailed, but his numb hands couldn’t catch the heavy metal cylinder.

The beam spun wildly, slashing through the dark forest—then plunged upside down into the mud.

The sudden commotion drew everyone’s attention.

Including Taemuk.

“I—I’m sorry…!”

Hoeun apologized breathlessly, but the rain swallowed his voice.

Unsure what to do, he stared at the flashlight buried in the mud.

I need to pick it up.

We need light—to see shikgoe, to see the path—

He remembered something Chilbok once said:

“The General sees everything that can be seen, and hears everything that can be heard.”

And that was true.

But even Taemuk couldn’t see what was invisible, or hear what made no sound.

No matter how sharp his senses were, he couldn’t see through pitch-black darkness.

So the flashlight had to go to him.

Swallowing hard, Hoeun shifted his weight, preparing to dismount—

“Sir.”

Gilsang had moved in close. He grabbed Hoeun’s elbow and forced him back into the saddle.

“…Yes?”

Hoeun, pale to the point of bluish-white—whether from cold or fear, he couldn’t tell—looked at him stiffly. Gilsang met his gaze squarely and said:

“Ride.”

Hoeun froze for half a breath.

Then, without asking why, he yanked the reins and moved to kick the horse—

And then—

“AAARGH!”

“UAAAAGH!”

“Aaah!”

Piercing screams erupted from all around them.

Fabric fluttered. Wind surged.

And suddenly—the space around them felt empty.

Dozens of soldiers were lifted into the air.

No—hurled upward, as if something above had seized them.

Horses, suddenly riderless, whinnied in panic.

“…What is this…?”

Gilsang, who had been about to move with Hoeun, froze like stone.

The soldiers who had screamed while being lifted fell silent all at once.

Instead, through the pounding rain came grotesque sounds—

Squch. Crunch. Thud. Riiip.

And then—

The rain grew warm.

No—hot.

When something warm struck skin numbed by cold, it stung like needles.

Hoeun shakily wiped his face and looked at his hand.

He knew he couldn’t see colors in this darkness.

And yet—

Flash!

Lightning struck again.

The world brightened, and Hoeun saw it clearly.

His palm—soaked in red.

Before he could even blink once, the rain washed it clean.

“……”

Had he imagined it?

Was he hallucinating?

Hoeun blinked rapidly, breathing hard—and then, instinctively, looked forward.

Looking for Taemuk.

“…General?”

But Taemuk was gone.

In his place stood dozens of pitch-black shikgoe, writhing together in a dense mass—layer upon layer, piled like a grotesque hill.

Taemuk was completely hidden within it.

Hoeun sucked in a sharp breath—

“Above! The shikgoe are above us!”

Someone screamed.

Hoeun snapped his head upward.

He couldn’t see anything.

But he felt it.

Hundreds of shikgoe—hanging from the trees, clinging like fruit.