BW C205

Chapter 205

“Commander.”

“Commander!”

“Commander, you’ve returned.”

“Commander, you’re a bit late today.”

“Commander, please have a meal.”

Ten years passed.

In that time, Jeokudae grew into the undisputed strongest unit in the Korean Empire, and just as he had for the previous decade, Taemuk continued to roll through battlefields alongside Shikgoe, blood, and the corpses of others.

Because of that, he became a General.

And there was no trace of a boy left on his face—not even if one searched for it.

“Goodness, why are you covered in so much blood again? Leave your uniform here. I’ll wash it for you.”

“…….”

Without a word, Taemuk handed over the uniform soaked in blood.

But at that moment, a hot stream of liquid ran down from his eye.

Taemuk quickly wiped it away.

A streak of bright red—blood tears—smeared across his hand. One eye had felt hot for a while now… it seemed it had burst again.

Hiding it in case anyone saw, Taemuk subtly covered his eye with his hand and headed toward his tent.

With every step, countless people bowed their heads or bent at the waist to greet him.

Taemuk did not bother to acknowledge each greeting.

He simply walked forward.

Soon, he entered his tent.

Unlike outside, the large tent was quiet, spacious—and empty.

As Taemuk slowly looked around, his body suddenly jerked violently, as if a spear had been driven into his back.

“Kh…!”

Clutching his chest, he bent forward.

He stayed like that for a while, panting heavily, then limped toward a rough wooden chair.

He collapsed into it.

His back hunched forward, his neck drooping as if it would fall to the ground.

“Fuck….”

Ever since he became an adult ten years ago, whenever he used his power, unbearable pain would follow.

Before, after a fierce battle, his body would grow hot and his skin would feel as if it were burning—but it had never been like this.

Now, he could barely even hold himself up.

His vision blurred.

His brain throbbed.

His bones and flesh burned with pain.

His eyeball or fingernails would sometimes crush and regenerate on their own.

And that wasn’t all.

His strength was gradually weakening.

He could still tear apart a Shikgoe’s skull, but crushing it with his bare hands had become difficult.

His movements had slowed.

His wounds healed more slowly.

At times, he felt sudden chills or fever without reason.

Sometimes, he even rampaged like a mad beast.

He would throw, break, and tear apart anything within reach—

and sometimes, he couldn’t even remember doing it.

“Haah….”

Taemuk ran his trembling hand over his face.

The feeling of one eye socket being hollow was unbearably grotesque.

Lately, Taemuk could feel it with his entire body—

that his life was nearing its end.

Like firewood that once burned fiercely, turning into charcoal, and then completely burning out into nothing—

that moment had come for him as well.

The reason was clear.

He had no Iin.

He had long heard the rumor:

A Military God without an Iin would inevitably die.

No matter how strong or healthy they were—they would meet death.

It was the price of using that power.

He wasn’t particularly afraid of it.

Nor did he feel it was unfair.

He had used that power for twenty years.

He had been torn apart countless times without a single lasting wound.

While the Lieutenant—and so many others—had died, he alone had remained alive.

It was only right that he paid the price.

But what worried him… was what came after his death.

What would happen to the soldiers who relied only on him?

What about the unit?

And the Shikgoe?

And perhaps it was excessive to worry this much, but…

what about the country?

“…….”

Covering half his face with one hand, Taemuk looked at the pile of general insignias stacked on a nearby table.

Every time he went into battle, he tore his uniform to shreds, so his subordinates had started bringing him dozens of spare insignias at a time.

Because of that, dozens of those rare and prestigious general insignias lay scattered carelessly across the table.

Looking at them, Taemuk wiped his face again.

Dried blood crumbled into powder and fell away.

Annoyed by the way it clung to his skin like fleas, he shook his hand—

just then—

“Commander.”

A familiar voice came from outside the tent.

Taemuk’s shoulders flinched.

Before, he would have noticed someone approaching immediately.

Now, he couldn’t even hear someone standing right outside.

It really seemed like the end was near.

“Come in.”

Flattening the crease in his brow, which had been twisted in pain, Taemuk answered.

He leaned back into the chair and straightened his posture—

as if nothing had happened.

As if he felt no pain at all.

Despite having only one functioning eye.

Soon, the owner of the voice entered and bowed.

It was Byeonguk.

“What.”

Taemuk asked in his usual indifferent tone.

Byeonguk took a couple of steps closer out of habit, but upon seeing Taemuk’s face, he quickly lowered his gaze—

as if he had seen nothing.

Then, in a neat and composed voice, he said:

“New recruits have arrived at a nearby town. They volunteered, saying they wish to join Jeokudae. Would you like to go see them?”

“…….”

Taemuk scratched his brow.

New recruits…

By the law of the Korean Empire, anyone who awakened as a Military God had to become a soldier.

A considerable number of people became soldiers every day—

and many of them gathered toward Jeokudae.

Of course, most of them were commoners or low-born.

Nobles, even if they awakened, often hid it.

And yet, the leaders of other units weren’t commoners or low-born either.

They were nobles.

Sometimes there were noble Military Gods, but most were ordinary people—those seeking glory for their family, those too incompetent to succeed elsewhere and forced into the military, or those simply obsessed with bloodshed.

Perhaps because of that, new recruits chose Jeokudae, unwilling to serve under nobles.

As a result, Jeokudae could gather skilled Military Gods without doing anything.

Because Taemuk wasn’t a noble—

Jeokudae had become the strongest unit in the empire.

It was almost laughable.

“No. You handle it—”

—cough—!

As Taemuk shook his head, he suddenly coughed harshly.

Blood surged up violently.

There was so much that it filled his mouth and spilled out.

Lowering his head quickly, Taemuk spat it onto the ground.

“Ha… fuck….”

After coughing a few more times, he wiped his blood-soaked mouth with an irritated expression.

His palm was stained bright red.

He stared at it.

It was his own blood—something he had seen countless times—

yet its texture and color suddenly felt unfamiliar.

“…….”

At that moment, Taemuk suddenly thought of his father and mother.

Their faces had already grown hazy in his memory—

so why now?

Perhaps… because the day he would see them again wasn’t far off.

Just as that thought crossed his mind—

“…Soon, an Iin Ceremony will be held in Hanyang.”

Byeonguk said.

Taemuk’s breath stopped.

After a brief pause, he shook the blood from his hand and replied:

“I’m not going.”

“Commander.”

“Even if I go, there won’t be one.”

“You never know.”

“They haven’t shown up all this time. Why would they now?”

“Because they haven’t shown up until now… perhaps they will this time.”

At Byeonguk’s hopeful words, Taemuk let out a faint laugh.

Leaning deeper into the chair, he looked at him crookedly.

Byeonguk had grown a lot.

No—perhaps “aged” was more accurate.

He used to look like a young man.

Now, he looked like a hardened one.

“Do you know how old I was when I became a Military God?”

“You were eight.”

“Yeah. So my Iin would be the same. Unless something was wrong with them, they would’ve awakened too.”

“…….”

“But they never showed up. I went to that damn ceremony eighteen times. Nothing. What do you think that means?”

“…….”

Byeonguk narrowed his eyes but did not answer.

His expression made it clear—he could not bring himself to say such an irreverent thing aloud.

So Taemuk said it for him, bluntly:

“They’re dead.”

Byeonguk immediately refuted it.

“That’s not possible.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not.”

“No. That’s not possible. They must exist.”

Byeonguk firmly denied him.

“…….”

Taemuk’s eyes narrowed.

Byeonguk never opposed him—

except when it came to the Iin.

Then he became sensitive.

Sometimes even insolent.

But rather than anger—

Taemuk felt pity.

Because he knew why Byeonguk was like that.

He was afraid.

Afraid of what would happen to Taemuk.

Afraid he would die without ever finding his Iin.

“…….”

As if ending the conversation, Taemuk turned his head away.

He grabbed a cigarette from the table and brought it to his lips.

His broad back rose and fell irregularly.

At times, his muscles bulged grotesquely, as if they would burst through his skin.

Whenever that happened, his eyes twitched slightly.

He didn’t mind dying.

But this damn pain—

that was what truly irritated him.

Wouldn’t it be better to just die in one blow?

As that grim thought passed through his mind—

Byeonguk stepped closer.