BW C185

Chapter 185

Bait, of all things.

Using oneself as bait to lure shikgoe.

Just hearing the words made one’s knees go weak, yet Taemuk neither feared it nor showed the slightest hint of apprehension. His face carried only boredom, mild irritation, and—if one looked closely—a trace of anticipation.

“……”

Watching him, Hoeun clenched the rough earthen wall as if pinching it hard.

Never—not once—had he seen Taemuk afraid of shikgoe. With the strength to kill one bare-handed, perhaps fear was unnecessary. Even so, he could have delegated the role to someone else out of sheer convenience. Yet he never had.

Hoeun suspected that even if Taemuk were far weaker than he was now, he still would have volunteered as bait. Because he was a general. A commander. Because he had to protect the Red Rain Unit—and the people of this country.

As a subordinate, Hoeun admired and respected that sense of responsibility.

As his iin(guide), however, he resented it deeply.

Sometimes, he wished Taemuk would hide.

Step back.

Pretend not to see.

“Haah….”

Hoeun let out a sigh, leaned back against the wall, and slid down to sit. Seongim carefully spread a Red Rain Unit cloak and wrapped it around him. Hoeun smiled faintly and murmured, “Thank you.”

Being protected by a woman was embarrassing, even shameful, for a man—but Seongim was stronger and healthier than he was. And if he caught a chill, he would only become a burden. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

Pulling the cloak up to his nose, Hoeun curled in on himself. Time passed that way.

It was a quiet stretch. The only sounds were the bleak wind howling through the village and, now and then, the flap of a bird’s wings overhead. In the dawn chill, the blood that had flowed down the roof tiles had congealed—perhaps even frozen.

A few soldiers nodded off, only to be shaken awake by others. In this cold, falling asleep could mean never waking again. They yawned, rubbed their frozen cheeks, and sniffled.

Then suddenly, Seongim grabbed Gilsang’s arm and shook it hard, pointing toward the mountain pass beyond the village.

Gilsang sprang to his feet and stared.

“Sergeant? What is it?”

Hoeun asked softly.

Without taking his eyes off the forested slope, Gilsang replied,

“The flag’s up.”

“Th-the flag…?”

Hoeun’s eyes widened. Nearby soldiers snapped fully awake.

“Which flag is it?”

Hoeun straightened, his face tense. Gilsang craned his neck a moment longer—then smiled.

“It’s the Red Rain Unit flag.”

Relief and joy washed over the soldiers’ faces. That flag was the signal they had been waiting for.

Byeonguk and several others were stationed on the slope to scout what kind of shikgoe appeared. A red Red Rain Unit flag meant leaf-type or sprout-type shikgoe. A black flag torn from a tent meant something more dangerous. White cloth meant a shikgoe without a confirmed leader—or none at all.

A Red Rain Unit flag.

That meant leaf-type or sprout-type shikgoe had taken the bait.

Hoeun immediately looked over the wall toward Taemuk. He, too, had spotted the flag and was staring at the slope. Sensing Hoeun’s gaze, he turned.

Their eyes met. Hoeun mouthed silently,

Thank goodness.

Taemuk grinned broadly. Hoeun smiled back—but the smile didn’t last. They had drawn the kind they wanted, yes, but shikgoe had still appeared. Anything could happen now.

“……”

Hoeun drew the pistol from his waist.

“……”

Gilsang and Seongim unsheathed their swords. The others quietly readied their weapons. The slackness vanished from their eyes, replaced by sharp focus.

Moments later, the ground began to tremble.

At first it was faint, but soon the vibration grew strong enough to make one’s hair prickle. Snow slid off ruined houses, debris, and trees. Cracks in the walls deepened. Heavy, massive footsteps—thump, boom, dudududu—rolled through the earth.

“Hu….”

Hoeun closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. No matter how many times he faced shikgoe, fear still gripped him.

Kiiieeeek!

Kak—kagaak—kaak!

Grrk—kak—kaaaah!

The shikgoe’s shrieks echoed from afar. Hoeun peered through a crack in the wall.

From between dense trees, glossy black-skinned shikgoe poured in. Driven mad by the smell of blood, they didn’t bother dodging trees, smashing through trunks with armored skulls and bodies. With thunderous crashes, trees toppled and the ground shook.

“……”

Hoeun counted them by eye. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty.

Fifty.

It was a lot—but mercifully not hundreds.

KAAAARGH!

The leading shikgoe plunged their faces straight into the blood-soaked snow. Some licked the crimson-stained ground; others scooped up snow and dirt by the handful and stuffed it into their mouths.

The first wave reached the tiled house in seconds, jaws gaping as they crunch! bit into blood-soaked pillars. Others chewed on the porch and doors. Those arriving behind clawed at walls and columns, scrambling up toward Taemuk on the roof.

With each bite torn from the house, it shook violently, on the verge of collapse.

“……”

Taemuk remained motionless atop the roof, calmly surveying the mass below—as though searching for something.

Then he spotted it.

Near the center of the swarm stood one shikgoe with leaf-shaped antennae on its head.

Unprotected, it twitched its antennae, tilting its head intermittently. Its blood-red eyes were fixed on Taemuk alone, utterly absorbed in the lone prey, oblivious to the artificiality of the scene.

By then, several shikgoe had reached the roof, snapping their jaws and reaching for him. Just as their teeth were about to clamp down on his calf—

Taemuk leapt.

The moment his feet hit the ground—

“Now!”

A shout rang out.

From gaps in the walls, cracked doors of thatched houses, behind wells—bows that had been poised in silence fired all at once, slicing through the blue dawn air.

Each arrow struck true, punching clean through shikgoe skulls. Thunk, thud, crack—bodies dropped in chaotic patterns.

From across the way, Dongja sprang up and shouted,

“Kill them! Leave the antennaed one alive!”

At her command, the hidden soldiers charged, weapons raised. Those hiding with Hoeun vaulted over the wall and joined the fray.

Kieek!

Kah—keuk—kaaah!

The slaughter was swift. Nearly half had already fallen to arrows, and the Red Rain Unit outnumbered them several times over. One soldier drew attention while another severed limbs or beheaded the creature. Some, like Taemuk, crushed skulls outright. It wasn’t easy—but perhaps because it had been so long since they’d fought shikgoe, everyone overflowed with strength.

Even so, a few shikgoe remained fixated on the house, shoving blood-soaked wood and stone into their mouths, trembling in grotesque delight. They were dispatched easily.

Then, belatedly realizing the danger, the antennaed shikgoe threw its jaws wide and screamed.

KIIIEEEEEK!

It tried to shake its antennae—

“Don’t.”

A massive hand seized them.

Taemuk stood right before it.

The shikgoe stared at him with blazing red eyes.

Crunch.

Taemuk tightened his grip. The soft antennae collapsed like boiled potatoes, oozing between his fingers. At the same time, the surrounding shikgoe froze. The din vanished in an instant, leaving only the soldiers’ shouts as they finished the rest.

Heads thudded to the ground one by one.

In moments, only the antennaed shikgoe remained.

KAAH—KAK—KAAAARGH!

It screamed in rage, blasting foul breath into Taemuk’s face. He scowled in disgust and swung his fist.

BAM!

With a heavy boom, the shikgoe was launched backward, crashing into a house that collapsed in a roaring cascade. Taemuk strode toward it, long legs unhurried.

The creature lay sprawled, its head half-shattered, completely still.

Taemuk frowned.

He hadn’t meant to hit that hard. He’d used less force than usual—yet it seemed more broken than expected.

“…Did I kill it?”

He asked, genuinely troubled.