By Zephyria 
Tae-muk inhaled the scent and looked around.
There weren’t many of them left. Excluding those who had fallen into the pit, there were about two to three hundred. The soldiers of the Crimson Rain Brigade were quite battered, but there seemed to be no critical injuries.
Tae-muk walked toward the pit and signaled the soldiers with a glance. At his cue, the soldiers drove the Devouring Ghouls, which were scattered here and there, toward the pit.
Kaaaaak! Kak, kaaak!
Kkik, kieeee….
The Devouring Ghouls clicked and clattered as if frustrated, but perhaps realizing they couldn’t win, they backed away inch by inch. Eventually, they reached the edge of the pit and tumbled straight in.
Before long, the deep pit was filled with Devouring Ghouls. They struggled to climb out, but the Crimson Rain Brigade stabbed spears and swords deep into their heads, killing them.
It didn’t take long for all the Devouring Ghouls capable of biting to be dead, leaving only those that formed the sphere. The sphere still maintained its shape.
“Captain. What should we do with that?”
A soldier approached and asked.
“Tear it open.”
Tae-muk answered simply and leaped into the pit. A few soldiers jumped down after him. The others waited outside or kept watch over the river, staying alert for the main body of the Devouring Ghouls.
Tae-muk approached the sphere, stepping firmly on the heads and torsos of the dead ghouls.
“…….”
This operation had been designed solely for that sphere. They needed to know what was inside. The unknown was synonymous with danger and threat—just as they had suffered because they didn’t properly understand the Fan Type. Therefore, they had to know.
Tae-muk hoped that, as Ho-eun had predicted, the king of the Devouring Ghouls—the one who issued orders to all of them—was hiding inside. If so, he could kill the creature immediately and end this tedious war.
If that happened, he would spend the rest of his days just holding Ho-eun.
Since spring was still in full bloom, they would go see the flowers, and in the summer, he would feed him peaches. Something sweet and soft seemed perfect for Ho-eun’s taste. He hoped autumn and winter wouldn’t come, as Ho-eun was very sensitive to the cold. No, perhaps it would be fine if they went to live in the warm southern regions.
Lost in these thoughts, Tae-muk grabbed the scruff of one of the ghouls forming the sphere and tried to pull it away. However, the creature didn’t budge. It seemed they were entwined, pulling on one another.
“Oh, really?”
Tae-muk raised an eyebrow slightly and then lowered it. He brushed away his blood-soaked hair and looked up at the sky. Then, stepping on the ghoul, he lowered his center of gravity, raised his fist, and—thwack!—he smashed the creature’s Helmet Bone. Thick blood poured out from the gaping hole in its head.
Once Tae-muk tore away the dead creature’s head, a hole finally opened in the sphere. However, there was no light, and the gap was too small to see the contents. There was only a musty, sour smell, similar to fermented fish.
It seemed he needed to make the hole larger. When Tae-muk killed the ghoul right next to it and tore off its head, the other soldiers began killing and separating the nearby ghouls as well, even without a direct order.
There were about two hundred ghouls forming the sphere; after killing, smashing, and tearing away about fifty of them, the contents inside became faintly visible.
But it was literally ‘faint.’ While the battle had been raging, the sun had set and complete night had fallen, making the visibility dim.
“Flashlight.”
At Tae-muk’s word, a soldier quickly turned on a flashlight and placed it in his hand. Tae-muk shone the light into the sphere. And in that moment.
“…….”
He was left speechless.
“…….”
The other soldiers were the same. Someone let out a sharp gasp.
And for good reason—the thing inside had a form they had never seen in their lives. Its appearance was so grotesque that it was difficult to even describe, let alone gauge what it was.
If he had to explain it, it was a sort of lump. While the ghouls clinging together to form the sphere could also be called a lump, this was a single, complete mass. One entity the same size as the giant sphere the ghouls had been enveloping.
Yet, its shape wasn’t distinct. It felt generally round, but it wasn’t a pretty circle like a rice ball or a snowball. Nor did it look hard. It writhed and surged, resembling a giant water droplet. But it wasn’t a liquid like water, either. The color was transparent yet strangely yellowish.
What should he call this?
Ah, right.
It looked exactly like a disgusting glob of phlegm someone had spat out.
It was a revolting metaphor, but there were no words more fitting to describe what he was seeing. Inside that phlegm-like mass, there were numerous dark objects, but the visibility was murky, making it impossible to tell what they were.
A few Crimson Rain Brigade soldiers held their flashlights close to the mass. Only then did the contents reveal themselves.
“My god…….”
A soldier lamented.
“…….”
Tae-muk also frowned.
What was inside the mass… were none other than Devouring Ghouls. Though they were only slightly larger than the palm of Tae-muk’s hand, the black bodies and wide Helmet Bones clearly identified them as ghouls. There were thousands of them.
“They look like… ghoul infants, sir.”
“Indeed. They are infants.”
So, this round mass should be viewed as a kind of… egg. An egg harboring thousands of ghoul infants. They were wriggling and growing inside the slimy mass.
“Ugh, disgusting. Ugh…….”
A soldier shuddered as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have.
“Blegh…….”
Another soldier gagged, his stomach turning.
“…….”
In contrast, Tae-muk stared blankly at the mass—no, the egg—with an expressionless face. He felt he finally understood why they had protected this sphere so desperately. Whether human or beast, offspring are precious.
After staring at the egg for a while, Tae-muk suddenly arched an eyebrow and glanced across the Yalu River. Above the tens of thousands of ghouls that hadn’t been able to cross the river, he could see hundreds of spheres.
Does that mean all those spheres contain infants? Thousands of ghouls per sphere?
“Ha…….”
Tae-muk let out a hollow laugh. If those infants hatched safely, it would be a catastrophe. There were already a disgusting number of them; this meant that number would increase. Perhaps the end of humanity would come.
They had to be destroyed. Before they grew, they absolutely had to be destroyed.
Having thought that far, Tae-muk plunged his hand into the egg without fear or hesitation. The squishy egg didn’t break or burst; it simply swallowed Tae-muk’s hand whole.
Tae-muk felt a repulsive sensation, but he didn’t pull his hand out. He shoved his hand into the heads of ghouls as if it were a daily meal; there was no way he couldn’t tolerate this.
“Captain.”
One soldier looked at Tae-muk with concern. But Tae-muk ignored him, rummaged around with his hand, and grabbed the head of one infant. Then, he yanked it out with all his might.
With a wet shluck sound, the infant popped out. Suddenly removed from the egg, the little creature writhed as if it didn’t know where it was. It looked exactly like a cockroach. Its teeth were so dense and sharp that just looking at it gave him goosebumps.
Then, suddenly, the creature snapped its eyes open and began to scream.
Kieeeeeee!
At the sound, which was more than sharp—it was piercing—all the soldiers flinched simultaneously. Some covered their ears. If those with normal hearing felt this way, imagine Tae-muk. For a moment, he felt a pain as if a needle were ripping through his eardrum.
“Ah, fuck…….”
Frowning deeply, he reflexively threw the ghoul away. Thanks to that, the creature’s scream stopped, but a louder sound erupted.
The ghouls across the river were howling frantically. Ridiculously, they looked exactly like parents who had had their child stolen.
Kak, kaaaaak!
Kiek, kkik, kieeeeek!
The ghouls became increasingly agitated. They looked ready to dive into the river at any moment. The current was still strong, but if a hundred thousand jumped in at once, about ten thousand would likely reach this side.
“…….”
Tae-muk frowned. Because it was night, he couldn’t see them clearly. He only knew the ghouls were agitated and screaming by the vibration of their stomping and their clicking sounds. The only things clearly visible were tens of thousands of red eyes shimmering in the darkness.
After contemplating for a moment, Tae-muk spoke while keeping his gaze fixed on the opposite bank.
“Prepare the fire.”
At that, half of the soldiers—both inside and outside the pit—ran off somewhere. The remaining soldiers finished killing the ghouls that had formed the sphere.
Before long, flickering lights approached from the distance. Tae-muk, who had been staring forward, looked back. The soldiers were standing with bows. At the tip of each arrow, a fire the size of a fist was burning. Lined up in a row, they drew their bowstrings tight, aiming across the Yalu River.
At that moment, the soldier in the lead looked at Tae-muk. When Tae-muk nodded as a signal, he shouted loudly.
“Fire!”
The arrows were launched simultaneously. Shshshshsh—. The arrows, laden with power, flew at high speed. As they soared over the river, the fire reflected on the water, momentarily doubling the number of arrows and making the light twice as bright.