BW C89

Chapter 89

“….”

Hoeun stared at the door with clouded eyes. He could not believe a monster was just beyond it. No—he did not want to believe it. A moment ago, he had allowed himself a trace of hope, and now the despair was all the heavier for it.

As he stood frozen, Seong-im yanked him back and took her place forward. She raised her sword, flinging away the scabbard as though she would never need it again.

Another BOOM! shuddered through the door.

“….”

Hoeun, pale as death, stumbled backward step by step. He gathered the trembling girls, shielding them with his own frail frame.

BANG! CRASH!

The creature threw its bulk against the door endlessly. The heavy bolts binding door to frame rattled precariously. Even in the darkness of the church, the twisting latches gleamed stark.

Hoeun, Seong-im, the girls—all retreated little by little. Then a girl’s foot caught on the altar steps and she fell backward. Her friends, hands locked with hers, toppled also. Jeong-i went down clutching Jung-woo tight in her arms.

Hoeun had no chance to reach them before—

BANG! The monster hurled itself harder than before.

CRACK! The bolt snapped free of the frame and clattered across the stone floor. The thick iron rod bent like a broken twig. Horrifying.

Then silence.

The beast no longer rammed outward. Instead, it pressed slowly inward with its weight. The door creaked and—eeeech—opened half a handspan. A jagged, clawed hand thrust inside.

“….”

“….”

“….”

None of them screamed. They only huddled tighter, trembling.

The creature whipped its claws, then forced its body into the gap. Benches scraped forward, crashing about. Hoeun had struggled to move even one of them, but the beast shoved aside a dozen as though they were nothing.

One side of the door swung wide. The monster filled the entrance, revealed completely.

“…Ah…”

Hoeun exhaled a broken sound. Through the open door the storm winds roared in. Rain lashed his face, cold as knives.

Krrrrkhhhk…

The monster stepped inside, trampling benches. The bone-helmet of its skull was grotesquely crushed on one side, blood and water streaming down. It must have fractured against the fencing earlier.

It loomed now within the nave, casting its massive shadow over Hoeun and the children before even closing the distance.

“….”

Seong-im bent her knees, sword high, her eyes twitching faintly. Hoeun fumbled, drew his pistol from his hip. Futile, but there was nothing else to do.

Squelch, squelch. Step by step it came, as if savoring the hunt, sure they could not escape.

The girls cried softly, shoulders shaking. Their fear soaked into Hoeun’s back like ice.

“….”

Hoeun bit his lip until it tore.

The tragedy was not death itself, but the helplessness before it. He wanted to throw himself forward, beg the beast to eat him and spare the rest—but these creatures knew no satisfaction. They would devour him, then Seong-im, then Jeong-i, the girls, then Jung-woo last of all.

He chewed again, tasting blood. His own weakness burned him worse than any wound.

How could he stop this? How could he resist dying so pitifully?

Nothing came. No answer. Not until hope—absurd, sudden—flickered.

Hoeun remembered Taemuk’s voice.

“When danger comes, cry out. I am faster than the beasts.”

He remembered Chilbok’s words.

“The General sees all, hears all.”

Hoeun did not think perhaps. Did not wonder what if. The memory itself was enough.

He opened his mouth. His torn lips stretched wide. His throat ripped with the force.

“General!”

Taemuk.

“General!”

His Military God.

Hoeun’s cry thundered through the stone church, echoing endless, bursting through the storm itself.

“GENERAL!”

He screamed mad, desperate, until his throat felt cut raw. At the same time, the beast leapt, pounding, soaring into the air above them.

Seong-im raised her blade, teeth bared. Hoeun spread his arms over the girls. They huddled, cowering. Jung-woo burst into shrieking sobs. The shadow of the beast swallowed all.

CRASH!

Glass shattered. Shards rained like glittering dust. And with it—someone landed inside the church.

At once, he stepped before Seong-im.

BANG!

His fist cracked into the monster’s flank, a force so mighty it never touched the ground—hurled straight into the wall instead.

Krrrhhhk…

The impact crumbled the nave. Stone shook. The beast clung a heartbeat, then slid down, head smashing floor. Its dizzy eyes rolled wild.

Boots stepped before it. The monster lifted its gaze—and a huge hand closed round its throat, lifting. A house-sized beast dangled helpless, legs thrashing in the air.

SKREEE!

It hissed, clawing at him, sinked talons into his flesh, but he did not move. Whether he felt no pain or was past caring, it mattered not. The hand tightened. Flesh wrinkled.

CRK—CRRK! His fingers pierced through hide and muscle.

SKRRHHH— Blood poured out. He squeezed harder. The neck grew slimmer and—SNAP! The spine broke. The limbs went slack, nerves severed.

Only then did he cast it down. It hit the ground with a WHUMP, body collapsing, head swaying limp on a ruined neck.

Still, its red eyes glared. Jaw flapped weakly. Teeth gnashed in spiritless rage.

“….”

The man gazed coldly down. Lifted one boot.

CRUSH.

His heel sank through the skull, its thick bone crumbling like thin ice. His leg pressed deep into brain.

Kkrrhhk… The monster died, twisted tongue drooping.

Yet still he stomped again. And again. THUD, CRUNCH, THUMP. Blood fountained circular across the flagstones. Each time he lifted his boot, unseen flesh and gore splattered sickly around.

“….”

Hoeun stared in daze.

Long legs. Broad back. Thick shoulders. Straight neck. Rain-soaked black hair flung heavy with each stomp.

He stared, drank in that form—until at last his lips parted.

“…General?”

It slipped out like prayer.

At once—the man’s fist stilled. He froze.

Slowly, he turned. Their eyes met across the hall.

Thunder cracked—the lightning lit his face bright, then dark again.

Hoeun rose without knowing.

It was him. Surely him. He had heard, and he had come.

“…General.”

Hoeun dropped his gun. It clattered to stone. Step by shaky step, he stumbled forward. Taemuk stood still, watching, neither approaching nor beckoning—but neither averting his gaze.

“…General…”

Hoeun swayed like a child learning to walk. Then, halfway across the nave, he broke into a run. His shoes slapped sharp against the frozen floor—tak, tak, tak.

And finally—when distance closed to nothing, Hoeun flung himself into his arms. His long black ribbon streamed wild behind him.