BW C191

Chapter 191

“—Kiiieeeek!”

The antennaed Shikgoe, along with three or four others clinging to the tree, flailed desperately, but there was no escaping the fall. Not only the antennaed Shikgoe, but even those that had shielded it as though protecting it tumbled down, limbs thrashing wildly.

As if resentful, the antennaed Shikgoe shrieked in furious cries. Yet no matter how intelligent it might have been, there was no possible way to avoid plummeting from such a height. It would have to reach the ground before it could do anything at all.

Of course, Hoeun had no intention of letting it reach the ground.

“……”

Hoeun raised his gun, aiming at the falling Shikgoe. However, targeting something dropping so rapidly was no easy task. Still, it was not impossible.

He had already killed Shikgoe that were running. He had fired a hundred bullets at creatures sprinting across the field. Whether they ran or fell—what difference did it make?

“……”

Hoeun focused entirely on the Shikgoe. As he did, every sound retreated ten paces into the distance, while the creature seemed to draw ten paces nearer. The rain, which had been pouring down in dense sheets, loosened into a slower fall, and the gun settled into his grip as though it were an extension of his own body.

And when the moment became nothing short of perfect—

Bang!

He pulled the trigger.

Pughak!

Blood burst from the antennaed Shikgoe’s eye as if it had exploded. The creature tumbled helplessly to the ground, and at the same time, its massive, fan-shaped antenna crumpled into the mud with a sickening crunch.

The leader Shikgoe was dead. By all rights, this horrific bloodbath should have ended there—but unfortunately, it did not.

Most of the Shikgoe stood frozen, as though they had lost consciousness while still on their feet. Thanks to that, the soldiers were able to split their bodies open and sever their necks with ease.

However, a few remained problematic—those that had been charging toward Hoeun, or those that had leapt toward him by stepping on the backs of other Shikgoe. Though their minds had gone blank, their bodies had not stopped. They slid across the slick mud or fell from above, unable to halt their momentum.

Most were blocked, shoved aside, or cut down by other soldiers.

But one—

One that had leapt high into the air—no one could stop it.

“Ah……”

Even in the darkness, Hoeun felt the massive shadow of the Shikgoe looming over his head. Slowly, he raised his flashlight upward. What he saw was a creature, stiff as stone, its jaws gaping wide as it fell straight toward him.

It did not move, nor did its eyes hold any light—yet that made it all the more terrifying. Its enormous bulk felt like a collapsing cliff bearing down upon him. Its body blocked the rain entirely, and for that fleeting moment, not a single drop fell upon Hoeun.

“……”

In that brief instant as the Shikgoe descended, countless thoughts passed through Hoeun’s mind.

He had imagined being devoured by a Shikgoe—but never being crushed to death beneath one. What a hollow, absurd thought that was.

He wondered whether, even if he shot the creature now, he could survive. But the Shikgoe had already ceased moving after losing its leader; killing it would change nothing. It would still fall upon him all the same.

He considered running. Though the creature was as large as a house, perhaps he could evade it if he ran fast enough.

But no matter how he thought about it, with his frail body, it seemed impossible.

So this is how I die.

Then… what will become of Taemuk?

He must have been badly injured today. He must have exhausted himself. If only—just for today—Hoeun could have healed him…

The thought of Taemuk suffering not only in body but in heart because of his death filled him with unbearable sorrow.

But if this was his fate, what could he do?

Hoeun squeezed his eyes shut. Though his expression was sorrowful, his hand gripping the gun was taut with strength.

“……”

Yet even as time passed, he felt nothing.

Had he already lost consciousness? Had he died before he could even realize it?

Then suddenly—

Swaaaa—

The rain came crashing down once more. Though it had only paused for a fleeting moment, the hundreds of raindrops striking his body felt vividly intense.

At the same time, Hoeun realized—

He was still alive.

But… how?

“……”

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

And met another’s gaze.

“I’m late.”

It was Taemuk, drenched in blood.

For a brief moment, Hoeun stood there in a daze. Then, slowly, he turned his head to the side. The Shikgoe that had been about to crush him lay far away, sprawled across the ground. It seemed Taemuk had charged in and pushed it away with his body.

Hoeun looked back at him, his eyes trembling.

Taemuk… was in utter ruin.

There was no other way to describe him.

A long wound marred his face, as though torn open by claws or teeth—its jagged edges leaking blood relentlessly. His neck was deeply gouged, and with every breath he took, blood surged out in thick bursts.

And—

One of his shoulders was gone.

It could not even be said that his arm was missing; the flesh had been ripped away all the way to the shoulder blade, leaving it shredded and hanging.

His waist and thighs had also been savaged, torn apart so mercilessly that it was unbearable to look at.

“……”

For a moment, Hoeun could neither speak nor react—he simply froze. It felt as though something were lodged in his throat. No matter how many times he swallowed, it would not go down.

Perhaps because of that, even breathing became difficult. It felt as though his lungs were filled with rainwater, suffocating him.

Struggling to swallow what might have been tears—or grief—Hoeun let the pistol and flashlight fall from his hands with a dull thud.

Then, forcing the corners of his lips upward, he whispered—

“…You’re not late.”

With trembling hands, he cupped Taemuk’s battered face, rose onto his toes, and pressed his lips against Taemuk’s—burning hot, as though aflame.

Seventy-two people had died.

He had expected many would lose their lives, but the number was truly horrific. And even that number had risen—eight more died on the way back to the encampment, bringing the total to eighty.

And it might increase further still.

“Aaaaargh!”

“Gaaah! Stop! Stop!”

The soldiers’ screams rang out thunderously. Just as Hoeun stepped into the infirmary courtyard, he froze.

Through the wide-open doors, he could see the soldiers’ legs twitching—either thrashing or convulsing—as they lay inside. The floor beneath them was soaked with blood.

The medics had wiped the floor again and again, but each time they turned away, it pooled anew.

Like the place where Hoeun and Taemuk stayed, the infirmary had been set up within a house. It was not an elegant tiled residence, but it had four rooms, walls to block the cold, and floors that could be heated with fire.

As it was a place meant to care for the wounded, it had been repaired with particular effort when the encampment was first established.

Normally, it had always been quiet and still. The old man would lie sprawled on the wooden floor, snoring as he slept, while Chilbok would sometimes crouch in the yard, chatting idly with other medics as he prepared Hoeun’s herbal decoctions.

But for the past few days, it had been anything but quiet.

Medics moved in and out, carrying cloths drenched in blood. The old man shouted orders. Someone groaned. Someone else wept.

“Haah……”

Letting out a long sigh, Hoeun crossed the courtyard.

Even the ground there was stained with irregular pools of blood. Unable to bring himself to step on them, he carefully avoided each patch.

When he reached the wooden floor of the infirmary, he gently set down the tray he was carrying.

On it was a steaming bowl of porridge, along with several side dishes. Hoeun had personally gone to the kitchen to bring them.

After neatly arranging the scattered utensils, he pushed the tray inward and spoke.

“Um… Dongja-noona. Please eat.”

At that, Dongja, who had been sitting almost sprawled out, looked at him.

She had always been lively and full of energy—but now she was pale, her eyes dull. Having eaten nothing for three days, her once-plump cheeks had grown gaunt.

“It’s fine. You eat it.”

Without even glancing at the tray, she spoke, then roughly wiped her dry face with her palm. Her sleeves were soaked with blood—from repeatedly drawing it for the wounded soldiers inside.

She sniffed once, then turned her gaze back toward the room.

Following her gaze, Hoeun looked inside as well.

Deep within the room… Mansu lay there.

“……”

Mansu had been injured. One of his arms had been bitten by a Shikgoe. Though it had not been completely torn off, it was beyond saving, and so it had been amputated immediately upon returning to the encampment.

He had lost a great deal of blood, and due to the rain and mud, an infection had set in. He had not regained consciousness since.

From what Hoeun had heard from others, Mansu was Dongja’s partner. He had fought in countless battles and had been injured many times—but never this severely.

Though he was not a military god, he had been born with a strong, sturdy constitution. Even after bleeding profusely, he would usually recover enough to eat three full bowls of rice the very next day.

But this time—

For three days, he had not opened his eyes.

And so, since their return, Dongja had not moved from the infirmary.

She had neither eaten nor slept.