By Zephyria 
“…….”
“Get lost, now.”
“…….”
Despite Tae-muk’s thunderous command, the spearmen didn’t budge an inch. Meanwhile, the Devouring Ghouls were swarming in thick clusters. Tae-muk slammed his fist, gripping his sword, right into one of them’s jaw. Bam!
Crack!
The ghoul’s teeth shattered, the fracture climbing up to the Helmet Bone, and soon the head collapsed entirely. But before Tae-muk could pull his fist back to his body, another one lunged at him.
Tae-muk pushed his fist sideways, striking the creature’s temple. As he did, he thought to himself: it felt as if the number of Devouring Ghouls had suddenly increased.
Of course, there had been many before, but he had still been able to glimpse the situation outside through the gaps. Now, however, they were packed so densely that he couldn’t see a thing. It was so crowded that the one he had just killed was knocked forward by another as it fell backward.
That wasn’t the only strange thing. The noise that had been filling his ears had diminished. The hacking cries of the ghouls, the sound of them splashing across the river, the thumping of their feet on the ground, the shouts of the soldiers, and even the booming of the cannons were all still there, yet something felt quiet.
What kind of fucked-up thing is happening now?
Tae-muk kicked a ghoul in the stomach. Using the creature’s hunched body as a step, he stepped on its head and climbed upward. He swept back his blood-stained hair and looked around.
In the distance, he saw three or four mounted soldiers galloping toward him. They drew closer quickly, slashing through ghouls with their swords, and once they had closed the distance, they screamed at the top of their lungs.
“Captain! We’re! Out! Of arrows!”
“…….”
Tae-muk took a short, sharp breath. He had thought the noise had decreased; it was the sound of arrows whistling through the air that had vanished. Had they already used up all those arrows? That was a serious problem.
But the bad news didn’t stop there. The rhythmic booming of the cannons suddenly dropped by half. As another three or four soldiers came running from the other side, they shrieked.
“Captain! One cannon! Has broken down! The remaining one! Will soon be useless! There are only four shells left!”
The soldiers’ shoulders flinched at the booming voices. Reflexively, they looked down the mountain toward where the cannons were located. The cannons were powerful weapons in their own right, but they meant more than that.
They were the weapons that provided the hope that they might actually repel a force of ghouls a hundred times their own number, and the morale that stemmed from that hope.
And now, those cannons were becoming useless.
It was undeniably bad news. Just as the sky was stained with darkness, the soldiers’ faces grew grim. Noticing this, Tae-muk sliced through the head of the ghoul he was standing on with his broken sword and jumped back down to the ground. He signaled the spearmen with a glance.
“You heard them. Go, now.”
“…….”
The spearmen didn’t answer. They only exchanged fleeting glances. In the meantime, Tae-muk gripped his broken sword like a dagger and repeatedly stabbed the under-jaws and temples of the lunging ghouls. Slash, splat—blood sprayed like rain.
He killed five or six more, but the spearmen still didn’t respond. They didn’t move. When he glanced back, they were staring blankly at the ghouls swallowing the river like a black tide.
Tae-muk let out a smirk and spoke.
“Scared? That’s why I told you to go, quickly.”
“…….”
The soldiers exchanged looks among themselves again. Thinking they would finally leave, Tae-muk readjusted his grip on the broken sword and strode toward the surging ghouls.
Kaaaaaaak!
A ghoul lunged, aiming for Tae-muk’s head. As Tae-muk shifted his shoulder back to dodge—
Thwack.
A heavy spear shaft pierced the creature’s head from bottom to top. Tae-muk frowned and looked back. The spearmen were charging toward him, spears in hand.
“We will stay with you, Captain.”
Tae-muk’s frown deepened.
“No. I can’t protect you all today.”
Normally, he wouldn’t have cared whether the soldiers stayed or not. He wouldn’t have just let them die. But today, he didn’t think he had the luxury to protect them. He was already struggling just to keep his own limbs intact.
Tae-muk had said it meaning they shouldn’t throw their lives away and should retreat, but the soldiers indignantly raised their eyebrows and snapped back.
“What are you talking about! We will protect you, Captain!”
“Exactly! Just trust us!”
Then, they surrounded Tae-muk and leveled their spears toward the ghouls. Tae-muk stared at them blankly before bursting into a chuckle.
“……I’ve lived long enough to actually be protected.”
It wasn’t a bad thing to hear. But it wasn’t entirely welcoming either. The smile slowly faded from Tae-muk’s face.
It would be nice if it ended like a pleasant fairy tale—where strong and righteous soldiers, after a grueling battle with the enemy, finally emerge victorious and save the country—but Tae-muk knew better than anyone that the heavens were not that generous.
If they were, his Mother and Father, the Sergeant, and so many other comrades and subordinates wouldn’t have died so futilely. Many more soldiers would likely lose their lives in this battle. Perhaps the Crimson Rain Brigade would be annihilated.
But what could be done? If that was the fate the heavens decreed for them, they had to accept it.
……No, that’s not it.
This is a fate we decided with our own hands. That was certainly the case.
“Fine, do as you wish,” Tae-muk said in a low voice. Who was he to tell people who had resolved to die protecting the country to live or run away? That resolve was something so heavy, precious, and brilliant.
“……Still, don’t die too easily.”
Having said that, he looked carefully over the few remaining soldiers. Then, turning his gaze back to the ghouls, he shifted the sword to his other hand and prepared for battle. The soldiers wiped the blood from their faces with the Crimson Rain Brigade cloaks draped over their shoulders and raised their spears.
“Let’s go.”
Tae-muk spoke softly and lunged toward the ghouls. The soldiers followed him, shouting, “Aaaaah!” Their footsteps echoed harshly, splashing through the pools of blood.
* * *
“…….”
Ho-eun looked down the mountain with a pale face. But he could see nothing. There was only pitch-black darkness.
He could faintly see the black Helmet Bones of the ghouls shimmering like black water in the moonlight, but all that told him was that they had already pushed down to the foot of the mountain—to where the Crimson Rain Brigade had set up their defensive line with wagons.
And beyond that darkness, a multitude of sounds drifted up.
Hwaaaa!
Ack, aaaagh…….
Kieeee, keck, krrk!
Kaaaak, kak! Kaduk.
The screams of soldiers, the cries of ghouls. He heard the thump of something falling, the squelch of something being torn apart, and the clang of something colliding.
But he had no way of knowing the condition of the soldiers, how they were fighting, or where Tae-muk was.
“I can’t see anything, nothing at all.”
Ho-eun spoke in a panicked voice, his head practically inside the telescope. He was terrified as screams continued to pour out from beyond the black abyss. He was so frightened that his cheeks were trembling.
Ho-eun bit his lower lip, looking again and again at the darkness below.
“……Young Master.”
Dong-ja called Ho-eun in a low voice.
“Yes, Sister.”
Ho-eun answered, his eye still pressed to the telescope. Then, Dong-ja wrapped her hand around his wrist. It was a grip with a strange amount of strength behind it.
“Let’s leave.”
Ho-eun’s eyes widened at the sudden words.
“Down below?”
Rather than being scared, Ho-eun felt relieved. He had been incredibly frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t see anything. If they went down, he could not only grasp the situation but also find Tae-muk.
However, Dong-ja shook her head.
“No. Behind the mountain.”
“Behind the mountain? What do you mean by…….”
“We have to run.”
“……What?”
“The Captain said so. If the creatures push down to the foot of the mountain, and if Gil-sang hasn’t arrived by then, I’m to take everyone and run.”
“…….”
Ho-eun’s eyes wavered violently. Run. The word, which he had never even considered, was a shock.
“Then, then what about the people down there?”
“……The Captain will be fine.”
“No. Not the Captain, the others.”
Ho-eun was worried about Tae-muk. But he wasn’t worried that Tae-muk would die. Of course, he had suffered from anxiety and various nightmares, but his mind knew.
He knew that Tae-muk was strong. And that even if he were gravely injured, he would not die. Having seen it several times already, he knew it well. He hated that Tae-muk got hurt, but it was an undeniable fact that he possessed Immortality.
But the other soldiers were not like that. They were strong and wonderful people, but they didn’t have Immortality like Tae-muk.
And yet, to run away. To run away when they should be going down to help. How was this any different from selling their lives to save their own? How could Dong-ja say such a thing?
Ho-eun was confused. The woman he knew wasn’t like this. She was someone who loathed the ghouls more than anyone, and loved the Crimson Rain Brigade and its soldiers more than anyone.
But Dong-ja did not answer Ho-eun’s question. Her eyes wavered for a moment, but that was all. She pulled Ho-eun by the wrist.
“Just come.”
“…….”
“There’s no time. We have to leave before the sun rises.”