BW C78

Chapter 78

The sky began to stain faintly red. Taemuk tossed aside the tooth he had just torn from a monster’s jaws, exhaling hard toward the heavens. It was a sigh steeped in tedium and boredom. But before he had even finished sighing—

Snarl!

Another creature lunged. Taemuk slid lightly aside, letting it miss. As it thundered past, failing to slow, he pressed down on its chest and heaved its back up with the other arm.

Caught mid-run, the beast flipped from the legs upward, hurled headfirst into the ground. Thud! The earth trembled. Yet it showed no pain, already struggling to rise.

Taemuk would not allow it. He drove one heavy foot into its chest—

SKREEEEE!

It screeched vilely as he seized its armored skull and wrenched upward, tearing the head whole from the body. Crunch-crack. Hide ripped, bone separated. The spine split free with the skull, dangling long before the limbs went slack and collapsed.

He split the head apart, flinging helm-bone and jaw aside in opposite directions. And yet another monster rushed him.

“Ha… fuck.”

His curse dripped with irritation. Their endless charge sickened him. No matter how many he tore apart—and he had already slaughtered more than count—the tide birthed more, surging from nowhere.

They could never all be killed. Not because they were strong, but because their number was near infinite. That was why their ancestors had named them ten-thousand scourge, manhwan.

Normally, defense against monsters meant setting an objective, advancing step by step, drawing lines and reclaiming ground. But here, with people buried beneath landslide rubble, he had no such luxury.

All he could do was hold position here, killing every frenzied beast lured by the smell of fresh prey until the rescue was finished.

“Get lost already.”

He slammed his fist into the side of a monster’s helm with a crack—

Ghhkk!

It reeled back, howling. Taemuk glanced behind him. Those who had been dug like potatoes from the earth snatched eagerly at cups of water from the Jeokudae soldiers, sputtering dirt from nostrils, coughing clods from lungs.

The rescue was working. Half fished up were corpses, but half still lived. Perhaps the landslide had been a twisted mercy. Had it not buried them, perhaps nine out of ten would have gone straight into monsters’ maws.

Then—one beast, helm crushed on one side from his fist, charged once more. Taemuk shoved his hand directly into its gaping jaw. Fingers closed bare on rows of jagged teeth, and with one savage press downward—

Rrrrip—

Its jaw split apart. As the crippled thing dumbly looked down, Taemuk seized its upper palate and RIP—tore the skull apart.

Dark blood and reeking flesh erupted in every direction. Taemuk didn’t so much as blink beneath the spray.

“General, report!”

From behind came Byeong-uk’s familiar voice.

“Speak there.”

Taemuk shoved with his foot, knocking aside the headless corpse still standing blind.

“The western shelter was swallowed by the slide. Completely destroyed, unusable.”

“Another fucking delightful report.”

“Dongja-noona has reached the school. We judged it impossible to head west, so I ordered her to stay and guard the civilians until further word.”

“Good. Next.”

“Gilsang-hyung has reached the hospital as well, joined with the town’s soldiers. Likewise, they hold position until further orders.”

At that, Taemuk paused. His tongue pressed slow against the inside of his cheek. With a dry click of the teeth, he flung aside another sundered helm.

“Choi Hoeun.”

The ground before him was littered high with monster skulls—heaped like a grotesque cairn. The fresh one tumbled down the pile, clattering hard against bone upon bone.

“He is safe.” Byeong-uk answered quickly.

“How safe? Explain.”

“Eh? I…”

The question caught him. Byeong-uk blinked fast. His hand twitched near his thigh. The General clearly wanted details of Hoeun. Something—anything worth report. Every scrap mattered.

Then he recalled, suddenly, a remark from one of the runners from the hospital.

“On the road to the hospital—a child was found.”

“A child?”

“Yes. And… that child was injured. It is said Choi Hoeun has been scouring the hospital for a doctor to treat him.”

At those words, Taemuk wheeled around, stalking forward, eyes gleaming strangely.

“Say it straight. Was Hoeun hurt?”

The closer distance stiffened Byeong-uk’s spine. His chin tucked, his eyes fixed on the air before him. He shook his head firmly.

“No, General. The child was injured. Hoeun only sought treatment for him. I swear it.”

If Hoeun himself had been wounded, the report would have been anything but casual. Hoeun’s safety was Taemuk’s safety—and Taemuk’s was Jeokudae’s—and Jeokudae’s, the nation’s.

“….”

Taemuk tilted his head, staring hard at the man. He didn’t even know why. To see if the soldier lied? To test if the news was warped?

“…Good.”

At last he answered short, wiping blood raggedly from his temple. He’d set a guardian at Hoeun’s side—good guardians. There was little need for worry, yet still he had needed to check. That was all. Just confirmation. Nothing more.

But… picking up injured children?

The boy could barely care for himself, and already he meddled beyond his means. Fretted face paling as he ran about the wards, silk ribbons swinging behind, trying to save strangers. Just like him.

He was probably close to tears, too. Hadn’t he wept when Gilsang was hurt? All from some monster’s claws in his shoulder, nothing severe. That memory, the sight of him sniffling like a child—it had been almost absurd.

Lost in the thought, Taemuk glanced down at his hand.

“….”

It was a ruin. Palms split, black pits gouged where fangs had punched through. The ring finger was torn and ragged, the thumb bent grotesque, unable to move even when he clenched.

Ghastly, but to Taemuk, nothing worth fear. A life spent amid agony taught him to throw such wounds aside.

So why fix his eyes now upon his shredded hand?

“….”

It struck him—Hoeun had never cried over his hurts. He had taken more wounds than any man, and yet not once had those bright eyes welled for him.

Not that he wanted it, not really. But he didn’t like that he had cried for Gilsang—just for Gilsang. And he didn’t want him shedding tears now for some nameless child either.

“General, monsters approaching from behind!”

It wasn’t that he hated his tears. If anything, they were—pleasing. The way his long lashes grew heavy with wet, the way pale cheeks went paler with each drop while lips flushed red—it made Taemuk ache, in his jaw, and elsewhere.

“General.”

So—was he crying now? He wanted to know. Not from secondhand report—but with his own eyes. He almost wished he’d simply brought him along.

“General, allow me!”

With no reply, Byeong-uk took spear in hand and readied. The monsters bore down upon them, snarling with slavering fangs.

The nearest lunged, its gaping jaws snapping toward Taemuk’s head—

In that instant, Taemuk turned, half-circle, his ruined hand clenched into fist—and CRACK!

The beast’s head exploded like a grenade, body flung clear to crash against a far wall.

“….”

Byeong-uk’s mouth hung open. In all the hundreds, thousands of times he had seen the General’s power, still it shook him each and every time.

No—it was more. Something was different.

Taemuk had always been strong enough to inspire awe. But now, after meeting Hoeun—his strength was beyond comprehension.

He had slain enough to pile corpses in mountains, and yet still stood unfaltering. Before, he would have clutched his chest, coughing blood. Not now.

“…You—you are all right, General?” Byeong-uk asked carefully.

“Mm.”

Taemuk flicked blood absently from his twitching hand.

“No pain?”

“…Tolerable.”

“It may be wise to stop utilizing your power. From here, allow us to act.”

But Taemuk only shook his head.

“No need. Someone promised me they’d hold my hand.”