BW C214

Chapter 214

“Really? Azaleas? Already?”

“They say it’s the first flower to bloom in spring.”

“Yes. Along with forsythia, they bloom the earliest. Well… it’s gotten this warm here, so maybe flowers have already bloomed in places that get plenty of sunlight.”

Azaleas…

As Hoeun pictured those soft, pretty pink flowers, a smile naturally spread across his face. The idea that flowers had begun to bloom felt strangely new. It made him think—spring really is here now. And at the same time, it brought a quiet sense of relief—winter is truly over.

Since Hoeun kept smiling, Taemuk, who had been glancing at him from the side, asked casually,

“Want to take a walk there?”

“…Huh?”

Caught off guard, Hoeun’s brows arched upward. Taemuk slowly extended his hand and added,

“If we go quickly, we can be back before dinner. Well… even if we’re a bit late, it’s fine.”

Hoeun stared at the offered hand for a moment, then broke into a bright smile and took it.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Let’s go see the flowers.

Held in Taemuk’s arms, Hoeun wrapped his arms tightly around his neck and watched the scenery rush past.

Before, whenever he rode like this, the fierce wind and biting cold would make it feel like his ears might freeze off—but now, though it was still a bit cool, it wasn’t nearly that harsh. The wind that once bared its claws had softened, and the cold that once stung like thorns had mellowed.

The snow that had piled up to knee height had disappeared without a trace. The mountains, now bare, looked somewhat desolate—but soon, green sprouts would push through, leaves would unfurl, and flowers would bloom everywhere.

That day would come soon.

Just as Hoeun inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of spring—

Suddenly, Taemuk pressed his heel down and came to a sharp stop, sliding across the ground with a soft scraping sound.

Hoeun looked up at him, puzzled. They still had quite a distance to go before reaching the large tree—so why stop already?

But—

“……”

Taemuk was staring intently toward a dense cluster of trees. His expression was off—serious.

Hoeun’s face tightened as well.

“Is it Shikgoe?”

“No.”

Taemuk narrowed his eyes, trying to identify the faint sound. It was distant—so faint it took time to discern.

After staring into the distance for a while, his brow suddenly furrowed deeply.

“…It’s people.”

Bang! Bang!

Gunshots echoed faintly from afar.

Hoeun swallowed hard.

Within Jeokudae, gunfire was rare. Even rarer on the battlefield—since he was the only one who used a gun.

Hearing someone else’s gunfire felt unfamiliar—unnerving. A tight tension pulsed near his chest.

Bang… bang!

The shots rang out again.

Listening closely, Hoeun frowned slightly.

“The frequency is decreasing.”

At first, it sounded like five or six people firing together—but now, maybe only two.

Either they were running out of bullets—or the number of shooters had dropped.

Given that Taemuk had sensed Shikgoe presence, the latter was more likely.

“……”

Taemuk increased his speed.

The trees blurred past too quickly for the eye to follow.

Hoeun clung tightly to him, burying his face against his shoulder. His ribboned hair streamed behind like a flag, and his body jolted as if it might be thrown off at any moment.

But he wasn’t afraid.

Taemuk held him firmly with those large hands.

After running for a while—

Hoeun caught a scent.

A familiar one.

The metallic tang of blood.

He couldn’t tell if it was from Shikgoe or humans.

Please… not the latter.

Just as he exhaled in worry—

KIEEEEEK!

KRAK! KEEEEK!

The shrieks of Shikgoe echoed through the forest.

No matter how many times he heard it, it still sent chills down his spine.

And then—

Taemuk stopped again.

Hoeun reflexively looked ahead.

The world before him was drenched in red.

“…Ah…”

A quiet gasp escaped him.

This wasn’t a battlefield.

It was a slaughter.

“Ugh…!”

“Kgh… kh—!”

Bodies torn apart horizontally and vertically writhed as they died without even managing full screams.

Missing limbs were common. Some had no heads. Others had their stomachs ripped open.

One man, his chest torn open while still alive, choked on blood before dying with his eyes wide open.

The ground, soaked in blood, was entirely red.

Rivulets of blood carved random paths through the dirt, mixed with scattered pieces of flesh.

There were about fifty people.

No—

Twenty corpses.

Thirty survivors.

And even those “alive” were barely clinging to life.

Bang!

Only three or four were still firing guns.

But their faces were pale, their eyes unfocused—they couldn’t even aim properly. Their bullets struck trees or the sky more often than Shikgoe.

By sheer luck, there weren’t many Shikgoe.

Eight.

No antenna-type leader in sight—likely stragglers from a larger group.

They were feeding.

Stepping on people, tearing off heads and limbs, shoving them into their mouths. Some sucked out brains and organs like noodles.

Crunch. Slurp. Crack. Gnash.

The sounds were grotesque.

Their teeth were stained red with blood, their black hides slick and glistening.

Hoeun instinctively reached for his side, checking for his pistol.

At that moment, Taemuk gently set him down behind a thick tree.

“Stay here.”

“There are many injured—we need to stop the bleeding—”

“No. Stay still.”

His voice was firm.

“Don’t shoot. Don’t even breathe too loudly. Stay put until I finish them all.”

“……”

Hoeun looked up at him.

Taemuk looked back, expression hard—but the flicker in his dark eyes was unmistakably concern.

“……”

Hoeun clenched and unclenched his fist.

Gilsang wasn’t here.

Taemuk had to protect him and save those people.

That meant leaving him alone—for now.

And for Taemuk, that must have been no small decision.

Understanding that—

“…Yes. I will.”

He nodded.

Taemuk held his gaze one last time, silently warning him not to move.

Then he turned—

And charged straight at the Shikgoe.

They were too absorbed in feeding to notice him.

“Hey.”

Taemuk called out to the nearest one.

The creature turned toward him with a low growl.

At that exact moment—

His fist swung.

CRACK!

A heavy impact rang out.

The Shikgoe’s armored skull shattered instantly, exploding as if it were nothing.

Its body stood for a moment—

Then collapsed.

Thud.

The ground trembled.

Nearby survivors screamed and crawled away.

Taemuk didn’t stop.

He moved to the next.

The Shikgoe still paid him no attention—even as their kin fell.

They only devoured.

One by one—

Taemuk killed them.

Tearing off skulls. Crushing heads. snapping necks.

Each movement was clean, efficient, without waste.

Wherever he passed—

Shikgoe fell.

Forward.

Sideways.

Backward.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“……”

Watching him, Hoeun wasn’t surprised.

He had seen Taemuk take down not eight—but eighty alone.

If anything—

He just felt relieved.

That Taemuk wouldn’t get hurt.

After a moment, Hoeun looked away from him and observed the survivors.

Something felt off.

They wore thick fur-lined hats and heavy coats—clothes meant for extreme cold.

Not hanbok.

Not Western either.

Yet they were clearly people of the Empire.

They fired guns at the Shikgoe. Some—likely military-god—charged at them.

But they were easily struck down—sent flying, limbs torn off, writhing in agony.

“……”

Hoeun frowned.

He wanted to help.

But if something happened to him, Taemuk would only be delayed.

So—

He stayed where he was.