BW C188

Chapter 188

They were chewing up the soldiers they had just snatched away, crunching them down without mercy. The blood of those who had died without even a chance to resist—their remains—mixed with the rain and splattered down in wet, heavy clumps.

“……”

Hoeun couldn’t believe what he was seeing. So many shikgoe had been lying in wait—how could no one have noticed? No matter how dark it was, no matter that they were up in the trees, there should have been signs. Sounds. Something. Even if he had missed it, there was no way Taemuk would have.

As Hoeun’s eyes darted around in confusion, a dreadful realization crept in.

What if the shikgoe were… extremely intelligent?

What if they had climbed using only their arms and legs to avoid leaving claw marks on the trees?

What if they had waited for prey without making a single sound—not even breathing—playing dead?

What if they had known it would rain, and waited deliberately for this moment…?

By the time that thought fully formed, Hoeun swallowed hard. His throat was dry. Water and rain were everywhere, yet he felt as parched as if he hadn’t had a drop to drink in days.

That was when—

“Fight! Fight! Pick up your weapons!”

Dongja’s voice rang out through the downpour. The soldiers who had been panicking finally drew their weapons.

“Young Master! Let’s go! Quickly!”

Gilsang shouted to Hoeun. Eyes wide, Hoeun kicked his horse’s flank and bolted forward, running without direction or destination. Sword drawn, Gilsang surged ahead, while Seongim followed close behind, guarding him.

“……”

Even as he fled, Hoeun kept looking back. He couldn’t help it. Taemuk and the soldiers were still there.

Taemuk was strong.

Jeokudae was strong.

They had always won against shikgoe—and Hoeun had never doubted they would continue to do so.

But this time… he was uneasy.

Dozens were already dead. There was more human blood here than in any battle Hoeun had ever witnessed.

In any fight, the side with the higher ground had the advantage. Just as Jeokudae had once slaughtered shikgoe trapped in a lake—now it was Jeokudae who had fallen into the lake, while the shikgoe stood on solid ground, weapons raised, butchering them.

Three or four shikgoe clung to each tree. They slid down in unison, driving their thick claws into soldiers’ foreheads, chests, sides, thighs—then hauling them back up.

“Aaaagh!”

“Gah—help! Here! Someone help me!”

“Kyahhh—!”

Dragged upward screaming, the soldiers went silent the moment they reached the treetops. After that, only blood, chunks of flesh, and other unidentifiable things rained down.

The soldiers fought back skillfully, swinging swords and spears—but when four descended, they could barely kill one or two. The shikgoe were fast, agile, and disturbingly precise. They moved like well-trained soldiers.

Calling beasts and monsters “soldier-like” sounded absurd—but they truly moved without a single wasted motion.

Jeokudae was being overwhelmed.

Some soldiers even tried climbing the trees after the shikgoe—but unlike them, they couldn’t dig claws into bark. Two limbs always had to cling to the trunk, leaving no room to fight. Anyone who climbed never came back down.

Hoeun bit down hard on his lower lip.

There has to be a way…

Ah—archers. The archers!

They could attack from the ground—

But… why wasn’t anyone firing?

Jeokudae always used archers effectively. They were indispensable. Yet now—not a single arrow flew.

And then Hoeun understood.

“Ah…”

The archers had been taken first.

The shikgoe knew. They understood that bows were the greatest threat in this situation.

“……”

Hoeun felt as though he’d been struck in the back of the head. Whoever their leader was, it had to be intelligent—horrifyingly so.

They had to kill it. Only then would there be a chance to turn this around.

Hoeun scanned the treetops, searching for the antennaed shikgoe. It had to be nearby, issuing commands from the darkness.

But he couldn’t see it.

And even if he did… there was nothing he could do. The antennaed shikgoe had always been Taemuk’s responsibility.

Then where was Taemuk—

Hoeun turned back to where he’d last seen him, expecting him to have already broken free.

But Taemuk was still surrounded.

“General…”

Hoeun’s heart dropped. For a split second, he feared Taemuk might be unable to fight—memories of seeing him injured by the lake flashing through his mind.

But looking closer, shikgoe corpses were piled everywhere. Crushed, shattered skulls—unmistakably Taemuk’s work. He was still fighting relentlessly.

Shikgoe layered over him like a living hill, writhing and surging. Occasionally, Taemuk’s blood-soaked form would break through.

Rain poured down, yet the blood covering him refused to wash away—whether shikgoe blood or his own, it spilled more violently than the rain itself.

Every time Taemuk took a step, dozens more shikgoe surged toward him, waves upon waves without end.

Something was wrong.

No matter how many there were, other soldiers fought at most three or four at once. Only Taemuk was forced to face dozens endlessly.

This had to be intentional.

The antennaed shikgoe knew archers were dangerous—there was no way it hadn’t recognized Taemuk’s presence. It must have realized he was their commander. Their strongest.

Which meant—

Taemuk wouldn’t be able to deal with the leader this time.

Then… someone else had to find it.

Hoeun searched the treetops again. Nothing. Nowhere. If only there were light…

That was when the rain above his head suddenly eased, as if he were under an umbrella.

Frowning, Hoeun looked up—

KAAAH!

Something sharp flew straight at him.

A claw.

A shikgoe’s claw hurtled toward the center of his forehead. Hoeun yanked the reins reflexively—but the claw was faster.

I’m going to be hit.

I’m going to die.

He squeezed his eyes shut—

FWOONG!

A long, sharp flash cut through the air.

Slice.

The sound was like cutting a radish.

KIIIEEEEEK!

The shikgoe’s wrist flew off. Hot blood splashed across Hoeun’s face. The flash didn’t stop—curving once more in a wide arc.

Thud.

The sound of a pumpkin splitting.

“Kgh—”

The shikgoe’s head fell. Its body slid limply down the tree and slammed into the muddy ground, splattering a mix of blood and sludge onto Hoeun.

“……”

Frozen, Hoeun couldn’t even wipe his face.

Then Gilsang stepped in front of him, sword dripping with blood.

“Young Master. Look forward—only forward. Don’t think. Just run.”

His voice was harder than Hoeun had ever heard.

“……”

Hoeun clenched his teeth.

Normally, he would have apologized. Thanked him. Said something—anything.

But now, nothing came out.

Not because he resented Gilsang—but because he resented himself.

Taemuk was being torn apart. Soldiers were dying. And all Hoeun could do was run—run uselessly, needing protection even then.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this helpless.

But today, it hurt more.

Jeokudae had never bled like this before.

“…Yes.”

Hoeun nodded hollowly.

What could he do? He was just a sickly burden. Staying would only make things worse.

Better to leave quickly—before Gilsang or Seongim were hurt because of him.

Taking a deep breath, Hoeun gripped the reins—

Flash!

Lightning split the sky. The world turned white.

And in that blinding moment, Hoeun saw it.

A half-moon had fallen from the sky—caught in the treetops.