BW C240

Chapter 240

“…”

“Get lost. Now.”

Even under Taemuk’s fierce order, the spearmen did not budge. Meanwhile, the Shikgoe kept swarming toward them in endless waves. Taemuk swung the fist gripping his broken sword and smashed one straight in the jaw.

BAM!

Krrk!

The creature’s teeth shattered with a crunch, cracks racing up into its helmet-like skull before its head collapsed completely. But before Taemuk could even pull his fist back, another one lunged at him.

He shoved his fist sideways and smashed the creature in the temple. At the same time, a thought crossed his mind.

Why does it suddenly feel like there are even more of them?

There had already been many before, of course. But at least then, there were still gaps where he could glimpse the battlefield beyond. Now they were packed so densely he couldn’t see anything at all. One of the monsters he had just killed had actually fallen backward, only to be knocked forward again by another one behind it.

That wasn’t the only strange thing.

The noise had changed too.

The Shikgoe’s shrieks, the splashing of monsters crossing the river, the pounding of feet shaking the earth, the soldiers’ battle cries, even the thunder of cannons—

Everything was still there.

And yet somehow…

It felt quieter.

What kind of fucked-up situation is this now?

Taemuk kicked one in the stomach. As it doubled over, he stepped onto its head like a stair and climbed upward. Brushing blood-soaked hair from his face, he scanned the battlefield.

Then he saw them.

Three or four mounted soldiers racing toward him from afar. Cutting through Shikgoe with their swords, they pushed forward until they were close enough to shout.

“Captain! We’re out of arrows!”

“…”

Taemuk drew in a short breath.

So that was it.

The sound of arrows cutting through the air had vanished.

They had already used every arrow.

That was bad.

But the bad news didn’t stop there.

The cannon fire, once steady, suddenly dropped by half. Another group of riders came from the other side, shouting at the top of their lungs.

“Captain! One cannon has broken! The last one will soon be useless too! Only four shells remain!”

The booming report made the spearmen flinch.

They instinctively turned toward the artillery line.

The cannons weren’t just powerful weapons.

They were something more.

They carried hope—the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could repel enemies a hundred times their number.

And with that hope came morale.

Now even that was failing.

That was terrible news.

As darkness swallowed the sky, despair darkened the soldiers’ faces too.

Noticing this, Taemuk split open the skull beneath his feet with the broken blade and jumped down. Then he motioned to the spearmen.

“You heard them. Go.”

“…”

They didn’t answer.

They only exchanged glances.

Meanwhile Taemuk gripped the broken sword like a dagger and kept stabbing upward into jaws and temples. Blood sprayed in violent arcs like rain.

He killed five.

Then six.

Still, the spearmen didn’t move.

He glanced at them.

They were staring at the Shikgoe flooding across the river like a black tidal wave.

Taemuk gave a short laugh.

“Scared? Then go.”

“…”

Again, the soldiers exchanged looks.

They’ll leave now, he thought.

So he adjusted his grip on the broken sword and strode toward the advancing tide.

At that moment—

KAAAAAK!

A Shikgoe leapt straight for his head.

Taemuk leaned back to dodge.

Thud.

A heavy spear shot upward from below and pierced straight through the creature’s skull.

Taemuk frowned and turned.

The spearmen were charging toward him with spears raised.

“We’ll stay with you, Captain.”

Taemuk frowned deeper.

“No. I can’t protect you today.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have cared whether soldiers stayed or not. He would never allow them to die.

But today was different.

Today, even protecting himself felt difficult.

He meant it as a warning.

Don’t throw your lives away.

But the soldiers only raised their brows in anger.

“What are you saying?! We’ll protect you!”

“That’s right! Just trust us!”

Then they surrounded Taemuk and pointed their spears toward the incoming Shikgoe.

Taemuk stared at them for a moment before letting out a rough laugh.

“…Never thought I’d live long enough to be protected.”

It wasn’t unpleasant to hear.

But it wasn’t exactly comforting either.

The smile slowly faded from his face.

It would be nice if things ended like heroic stories.

Brave righteous soldiers fight impossible enemies, win in the end, and save the country.

But Taemuk knew better than anyone that heaven was never so merciful.

If it were, his mother and father wouldn’t have died.

Sergeant Ajusshi wouldn’t have died.

Neither would the countless comrades and subordinates he had lost.

Many soldiers would die tonight.

Maybe Jeokudae itself would be wiped out.

But what could they do?

If this was the fate heaven had written for them, then they had to accept it.

…No.

That wasn’t right.

This wasn’t fate written by heaven.

This was a fate they had chosen with their own hands.

“Yes. Do what you want.”

Taemuk’s voice sank low.

Who was he to tell men who had already resolved to die protecting their country to run?

He knew how heavy, precious, and brilliant that resolve was.

“…Still, don’t die too easily.”

He slowly looked over the few soldiers remaining. Then he turned back toward the Shikgoe, switched the broken blade to his other hand, and prepared himself.

The soldiers wiped blood from their faces with their Jeokudae cloaks and raised their spears.

“Let’s go.”

Taemuk spoke quietly, then charged.

The soldiers roared and followed him.

“AAAAAAAH!”

Their footsteps splashed violently through thick pools of blood.

Hoeun stared down the mountain, his face pale.

But he could see nothing.

Only darkness.

In the moonlight, the black skulls of the Shikgoe shimmered like black water. From that alone, he understood one thing.

The monsters had already reached the foot of the mountain—to the defensive barricade Jeokudae had built with cheval de frise.

And from beyond that darkness came countless sounds.

“AAAAAH!”

“Ah—Aaaagh!”

Kieeeek! Krrk!

Kaaak! Crack!

Soldiers screaming.

Shikgoe shrieking.

Heavy impacts.

Something collapsing.

Something being torn apart.

Metal crashing against bone.

But beyond that—

Nothing.

He couldn’t tell how the soldiers were doing.

He couldn’t tell how they were fighting.

He couldn’t even tell where Taemuk was.

“I can’t see anything. Anything at all.”

Hoeun leaned so far into the binoculars it looked as if he wanted to crawl inside them. Endless screams poured from the darkness.

Fear gripped him so tightly even his cheeks trembled.

He bit his lower lip and kept staring into the black void.

Then—

“Hoeun.”

Dongja called in a low voice.

“Yes, noona.”

He answered without moving his eyes from the binoculars.

Then Dongja grabbed his wrist.

Her grip was strangely firm.

“We’re leaving.”

Hoeun’s eyes widened.

“Down there?”

Surprisingly, the thought didn’t frighten him.

It relieved him.

This helplessness was unbearable.

If they went down, he could see what was happening.

He could find Taemuk.

But Dongja shook her head.

“No. Behind the mountain.”

“Behind the mountain? What do you mean—”

“We need to run.”

“…What?”

“The Captain said… if they reach the mountain… and Gilsang still hasn’t returned… take everyone and run.”

“…”

Hoeun’s eyes shook violently.

Run.

The word itself felt like a shock.

He had never even considered it.

“Then… what about the people down there?”

“…The Captain will be fine.”

“No. Not the Captain. The others.”

Hoeun was worried about Taemuk.

But not because he thought Taemuk would die.

He had seen enough to know.

Taemuk was strong.

Even gravely injured, he survived.

He hated seeing him hurt.

But Taemuk’s unnatural resilience was undeniable.

The others, however…

They weren’t like him.

Yes, they were strong.

Yes, they were incredible.

But they were not immortal.

And now Dongja was talking about running.

Running when they should be helping.

Running while others gave their lives for them.

How was that any different from surviving at the cost of everyone else?

How could Dongja say something like this?

Hoeun was deeply confused.

The Dongja he knew wasn’t someone who would say this lightly.

She hated the Shikgoe more than anyone.

She loved Jeokudae and its soldiers more than anyone.

But Dongja didn’t answer.

Her eyes shook for only a brief moment.

Then she pulled harder on his wrist.

“Move first.”

“…”

“There’s no time. We have to leave before sunrise.”