BW C71

Chapter 71

Hoeun stared fixedly at Taemuk’s back. He wanted to remind him that he was still here. To let him know he hadn’t been left behind. But Taemuk did not turn around. Just as Hoeun almost called out, Gilsang at his side spoke.

“Young master, you should come with me.”

“But…”

“The Captain will deal with that side and then join us at the hospital. Until then, please stay with me. He judged this to be the safer choice.”

“…Yes.”

Hoeun nodded slowly. He understood, but still his eyes wouldn’t leave Taemuk’s departing back. He dug his thumbnail into the leather reins.

Then Dongja, riding just behind Taemuk’s lead, spurred her horse forward. She turned in the opposite direction from where he had gone. Gilsang signaled to Hoeun with his eyes—it meant to follow. The remaining two hundred and fifty men moved with her.

Before long, they reached the eastern gate. The great arched doors stood sturdy, nearly five times Hoeun’s height in iron, scarred here and there, but far from destroyed.

Only beside the gate, sections of stone wall had collapsed in broken heaps, irregularly shattered. Blood spattered the fallen rubble—not human blood, it seemed. Perhaps the monsters had rammed their helmets into the fortifications until it gave.

Dongja passed through the half-open gate. The moment they entered its shade, the air grew cold. He felt the damp chill peculiar to stone. Wind rushed wildly along the walls.

Stepping through was like passing into another world.

“…”

The town within was deathly quiet—yet though no sound came, the scenes before his eyes were clamorous enough.

Every door and window was torn apart. Roofs and walls gaped with holes, as though something had burst out from within—or torn its way in.

Blood lay everywhere in thick pools. From the tiles above, dark rivulets bled down as if someone had been eaten on the rooftops. On the dirt ground, it clotted sticky and deep.

Most of all, where blood gathered thickest lay the remains—gouged flesh beneath huddled monsters. Small ones, crouched and gnawing, their jaws champing wet and loud.

Bone cracked in their maws, marrow crunching like split wood. Their tongues slithered into vacant skulls, licking at emptiness.

“…”

The ghastly sight bent Hoeun’s eyes down. He could not yet accustom himself to dead bodies. His blood went cold, his heart slowed heavy. Sweat prickled cold beneath his skin.

Then Dongja signaled Mansu beside her with a nod. Mansu looked back and flicked his palm towards the rear—a sign to fall back.

Half the hundred soldiers behind Hoeun broke away, going to the shattered wall to hold guard. The other half charged at the monsters ahead.

KRRRSHHH! RRAAAGH, SKRRAKH!

Steel met hide. Soldiers tangled with monsters. These were smaller ones, and died more swiftly, necks bared too easily.

Dongja led the remaining hundred further in. Hoeun and Gilsang followed. Gilsang kept pace fast at his side, nudging him into the safety of the group’s center.

They charged down the main roads, passing building after building. Fewer creatures lingered near the gates, but deeper within, their numbers swelled. And their sizes grew.

Bodies half-devoured were dragged into alleys, monsters crouched over them, shielding their meals with their own hunched frames. Blood trickled from the corpses, winding thin as streams between their legs.

“…”

Hoeun watched a man’s body jerk and bounce as it was torn at, his lips folding down, teeth clamped hard. Then the monsters’ red eyes flashed—they noticed the Jeokudae soldiers.

Fresh prey. Plump and alive. They dropped their corpses like scraps, snarling as they charged.

SKREEEEEK! RAAAGGH!

At the head, Dongja tore the long spear from her back. Longer than Hoeun stood tall, its haft of iron, blades broad at either end. She whirled it once around her head, letting the momentum carve through the charging beasts.

The blade ripped, hide tearing like rags. A helmeted head fell heavy to the dirt, severed.

KEEEEK—

The creature moaned thinly, its neck cut clean. Dongja did not pause. She swung again, and again. The air shuddered with each stroke, her spear felling one beast after another. Heads and maws split, tumbling like ripe fruit from branches.

“Wow…”

Hoeun forgot himself, whispered aloud in awe. He had known she was strong—one of Taemuk’s own, her rank assured it. But this strength was beyond his imagining. He felt a thrill of reverence, different from what Taemuk inspired.

Dongja swept left, then right, cleaving. When her reach failed, slicing only half-neck or limb, the men behind surged forth. With their short cross-spears, forged in tens like stabbing crucifixes, they pierced the helmets, drove tips through throat and skull, and yanked them clean.

Each played his role seamlessly—honed for this very carnage. Their rhythm had no falter, no hesitation, as one.

Great monsters toppled, littering the road like fallen leaves in a storm. Their steeds never slowed; hooves thundered relentless as they passed “Yeonghwa Restaurant,” then swept beyond the two-storied “Geumgyo Herbal Clinic.”

Hoeun recalled the map he’d studied before departure. At this pace, reaching the hospital at town’s center would not be difficult.

By now, had Taemuk reached as far? Or perhaps already secured the shelter? He was strong. Surely. The thought eased his chest.

Soon I will see him again, Hoeun thought. And when I do, I must take his hand firmly in mine.

But then—

SKREEEEEEEK!

From ahead, a monster larger than the rest tore its jaws open, crashing down upon Dongja.

“HYAAA!”

She bellowed, whipping her spear against it—yet the beast caught the spearhead in its grip, yanking hard. With terrifying force, it pulled, lifting her from her saddle. She flew through the air like a doll.

“Ah—!”

Hoeun gasped, breath halted, the moment stalling out of time itself—until, landing hard, Dongja struck ground.

But she landed on her feet. Rolled, rebounded, no cry escaping her lips. And as she rose, she wrenched a dagger from her belt and drove for the monster’s gaping jaws.

STAB, RIP, CRACK.

Each thrust sprayed gore, blood dripping mud-thick to the earth. Yet the beast did not falter. It seized her arm, hauling her toward its teeth. Its jaws widened, descending toward her head.

Then—THUNK.

Mansu, without pause, had leapt from his horse. He drove his spear into the helmet of the beast. Yet he was no Military God—his strike did not pierce through. The tip only lodged shallow.

Still, the monster reeled, turning in fury toward him. It shrieked, spittle striking his face in sprays.

And then, leaping high, Dongja seized the embedded spear with both hands. With all weight behind, she plunged it deeper.

CRUNCH—

The sickening crack of breaking bone.

The creature quivered, head snapping back, limbs convulsing before it collapsed, the ground shuddering under its weight.

“You bastard…”

Dongja planted a boot upon its helmet, yanked the spear free. She tossed it back to Mansu, who caught it with a slanted grin.

But the moment left no time for laughter. Around them, more monsters gathered thick. Soldiers began dismounting, blades rising, charging without hesitation into the fray.

“UAAAAH!”

SKREEEEE! GRRRR!

Battle cries and howls met in chaos.

Yet Gilsang did not descend. Sword drawn, he stayed alert, defending Hoeun. And so Hoeun remained mounted, watching him sidelong.

Then—just as Dongja cleaved another beast’s throat—she flicked her brows at Gilsang. He dipped his chin.

Together, she bellowed across the field, voice like a strike of metal.

“Clear the way! Make the path!”

At once the soldiers pressed their weapons into monsters’ necks, chests, bellies—driving them back with cries, herding them aside toward the buildings. Hoarse shouts and roars filled the air.

And in moments, through the wash of blood, a path opened red before them.