Territory War (4)
Jingle.
I opened the door to the block room.
Under the bright lights stretched a riot of color. Thick mats covered the floor, mountains of multicolored blocks rose on every side, and in the center a cluster of small tables and chairs sat neatly together.
Most of the kids looked like lower elementary schoolers, yet the atmosphere was intensely serious.
A young female staff member approached.
“Welcome. Is this your first time in the block room?”
“Yeah. How does this place work?”
“It’s by the hour. You can set a time in advance or settle up later. The kids pick the products they want, we bring them over, and then you assemble the blocks.”
I nodded and looked around.
Finished pieces were on display everywhere—soaring towers, intricate castle gates, a miniature dragon. It was astonishing how those tiny blocks could come together into forms so delicate and refined.
“If I ask for something specific, do you build it for me or sell finished pieces?”
At my question the staffer’s expression turned awkward.
“We don’t build them for you. You have to make them yourself. Once you’re done and leave, we take them apart. These are foam blocks, though—if you finish one, we can heat-set it for you so you can take it home. That costs extra, of course.”
Broadly speaking there were two kinds: hard plastic blocks, and soft rubbery ones. The kids assembled the expensive sets to their hearts’ content but never took them home. The rubber ones looked cheap, yet for a low price you could walk out with them and satisfy that ownership itch.
But I was staring down a war.
I could build it myself, sure—except I had no time.
“I need to make a castle wall. It’s critical, but I’m short on time… and I still want to build it and take it with me. Even if I pay, is that not possible?”
“This place is for the kids to build things themselves. You really do have to make it yourself…”
The staffer called over to someone dismantling blocks nearby.
“Boss… this customer is asking about…”
“Yes? What seems to be the matter?”
Ah, so that was the owner.
“We don’t build things for customers. You have to make them yourself.”
Ten times the number of troops were marching to kill Illys. This was a timed mission that absolutely had to succeed. It needed to be finished and delivered within the next day or two so they could adapt and prepare on their end.
And I still hadn’t explained enough to the block-room owner.
“I’ll cover the full product cost, of course. And if I pay about a million won per person in labor… is there any way?”
“Excuse me?! A million won in labor?!”
The owner’s eyes went round.
A million won in labor. He’d probably never heard a figure like that in his life.
“Yes. If two of you finish it by tonight, I’ll give each of you a million. If you keep working tomorrow as well, how about two hundred thousand per person? I’m short on time, and I’ve never made anything like this. With your help I know we’ll get a far better piece. Product costs separate, of course.”
It felt like I’d overbid, but this was no time to pinch pennies.
The block-room owner took a step toward me.
“Boss. Leave it to me.”
Huh? Wasn’t he the boss?
Right—at a million a day, I was the temporary boss now.
“Boss, would it be all right if I called in more people? I’ve got a friend who does nano-block YouTube. The guy’s incredible at building. Works under a loupe—his hands are pure gold.”
Exactly the kind of person I needed.
“Of course. Call him.”
An hour later the place no longer looked like an ordinary block room.
A five-person squad of nano-block specialists had assembled. The room had become a design studio for a new castle wall—and a secret war-prep chamber.
The experts worked with loupes clamped over one eye. Every time a section finished they showed it to me, and each piece was pure art. I held a magnifying glass and marveled.
“Wow… it really looks like a medieval castle wall.”
I used to fix smartphones for a living, but true golden hands existed in this world. These people were them.
From the tower base to the narrow gate and the arrow slits—their hands never hesitated, yet every motion was precise. Each block locked perfectly into place.
“What’s that?”
Whirr.
A tiny heat gun. An employee gripped a block edge with tweezers, applied heat, then immediately pressed the seam smooth.
“Heat it and set it right away and it comes out cleaner. No gaps.”
True professionals. Tiny differences made the masterpiece.
They stacked layer after layer, deliberately leaving micro-texture so the wall looked like real stone, then carved the mortar lines paper-thin with a blade tip. A tiny shield emblem crowned the tower; chain-link plastic gave the gate real weight.
After two or three hours I was starting to develop an eye myself. Peering through the loupe I tossed out a comment.
“There’s a gap in this joint.”
“Yes! Fixing it now!”
“And over here—plastic flash along the block edge?”
“Ah, that came from the factory like that.”
“Not acceptable. Treat this like it’s going into an actual war. A single flash like that could get someone killed. What you’re doing is saving lives.”
My serious tone seemed to startle the staff. But they were pros. Their eyes sharpened further as they returned to work.
“Ah… understood.”
At least they could tell I meant every word about the piece. My demands might have been excessive, yet a million-won daily wage was more than enough to buy sincerity.
Before long the kids had stopped playing and were simply watching the adults.
“Whoa! That’s so cool!”
They were witnessing what happened when industry experts poured their hearts into the work. I myself stared a long time at the finished battlements.
Tiny blocks had fused into a complete defensive structure. I had designed it so that when the Rodriguez side summoned the pieces in order, a finished wall would appear instantly.
A staffer explained.
“Boss, when you build a castle wall the inner face needs a gentle slope, right? We used a toothed frame to set the incline. Outside is a sheer cliff; inside, this ramp.”
I nodded.
“And you wanted the wall to tip and smash the enemy outside, yes? We built that in too. Joints here, held by thread. The moment the thread is cut, the gears engage.”
My gaze shifted; a strange mechanism peeked from between the blocks—tiny rubber bands and wooden slivers woven together.
“And this?”
The employee smiled.
“An arrow—no, a ballista. The little wooden piece… ahem. Once it scales up, it’s a massive tree that gets launched. Cut the rubber band on this side and it fires. Single-use, but it flies quite far.”
“Ohh…!”
I narrowed my eyes and nodded. To the nano-people it would be an enormous bolt. Reloading the rubber bands looked impossible, though.
“Good. If these rubber-band weapons get used for real, they’ll be huge. Since they’re one-shot, mass-produce them and hand them over. Weapons in bulk, please.”
“Yes.”
The original block-room owner spoke up.
“Gayoung, run to the stationery store out front and grab rubber bands—every kind.”
“On it.”
Stationery store?
On a hunch I stepped outside. Directly across from the block room stood a stationery shop. My eyes were drawn to it of their own accord. I pushed the door open slowly.
“Welcome.”
Shelves packed with every variety of goods. It wasn’t just school supplies—toys for kids were piled high as well. Perhaps the key to this war was waiting right here.
Nano World.
The plain leading to Rodriguez.
Duke Randolph’s army was on the march.
Tramp, tramp, tramp.
Banners snapped in the wind. An endless host stamped the earth as it rolled forward—three thousand cavalry and thirty thousand infantry. The infantry column stretched beyond sight.
Duke Randolph sat at ease on horseback. A duke, and a sword expert of the highest rank; he was not the sort to send generals and remain behind in his own territory.
“Behold our banners! Ten times their number!”
A general at his side answered, eyes on the long line of fluttering standards.
“An endless river of flags! That is the true emblem of our host. In a siege the rule of thumb is three-to-one; we have ten. It’s free money.”
Randolph nodded slowly. The general glanced at the wagons ahead.
“We’ve packed plenty of shovels and picks. Dig under the walls or batter them down—ten days at the absolute longest will do.”
“Ten days?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Honestly five would be enough; I’m padding it for insurance.”
Randolph threw back his head and laughed.
“Hahaha! Five days… I like the sound of that.”
“Indeed. Even if some constellation is feeding them grain, they’re not going to start throwing bread and meat at us. And Rodriguez is our neighbor. Our own supply line is hardly stretched thin.”
The two territories bordered each other, so the logistics trail was short. Rodriguez might eat well, but Randolph’s troops were not starving either. Food superiority would not decide this war.
So the column advanced amid laughter and certainty of victory.
A soldier at the front wheeled his horse and shouted.
“We’ve arrived!”
Before them rose the Rodriguez stronghold.
Something was wrong.
Bright, orderly walls. Gleaming carvings. A strange and marvelous fortress.
The chuckles of the general and Duke Randolph died at once. The duke’s eyes narrowed.
“…What is that?”
Where only plains and low hills had stood last time, a wall had sprouted overnight. The duke turned to the envoy who had visited Rodriguez before. Even that subordinate shook his head in bewilderment.
“…That wall was not there last time.”
Every soldier’s gaze locked on the fortification. There was an eerie beauty to it. Ordinary walls were rough-hewn stone stacked in layers. This one was different. Its faces were flat and smooth, as if a single vast gemstone had been cut and fitted by a master jeweler rather than masons stacking brick. The colors were wrong too—not gray rock, but hues as though paint had been brushed on.
Someone murmured under his breath.
“Pretty…”
Above the gate hung a banner—enormous—yet it did not flutter. Frozen in a sideways billow, it never stirred. That uncanny stillness pressed on the soldiers like a weight.
Duke Randolph squinted at the walls.
“I have never seen a wall like this.”
Vivid colors, seamless surfaces, glittering ornaments, and a flag that refused to move. Everything was alien and wondrous—and that alien beauty sent a chill down the spines of the men.
“Halt. Make camp here.”
“Army halt! Establish the encampment!”
Randolph’s numbers were overwhelming, yet the incomprehensible sight kept them from rushing in. Startled by the unfamiliar wall, the duke spent three full days sending scouts.
The scouts reported:
“Extremely smooth and solid wall.”
“The structure itself is highly unusual, but we found no special traps.”
“Rodriguez soldiers on the wall seem to rotate in three shifts.”
“Observed numbers around a thousand.”
“They never once came outside the gate.”
The duke pondered. Three days of observation showed only an odd shape; nothing more. Adaptation to the strange walls was complete.
Duke Randolph raised his sword high and roared.
“Bring me the head of Rodriguez’s lord!”
“At your command!”
After three days of probing, the real invasion began. Thirty thousand voices howled as the host surged forward.
“Uwooooooh!”
“Charge!”
“Scale the walls!”
Their shouts shook the earth, though a thread of unease about the alien fortress still ran through them. Sheer numbers, however, became confidence.
Whoosh!
As the duke’s men sprinted for the wall, arrows naturally rained from above.
“Shields overhead!”
They had come prepared for a siege; of course they were ready for arrows. Clack, clack. Soldiers covered their heads with shields and kept running.
Shuuuuuuu.
“Huh?”
Shuuuuuuu.
A colossal shadow split the sky. An arrow the size of a great tree tore into the earth.
KRA-BOOM!!
The ground exploded open; dozens of soldiers were hurled away without a trace. The stench of blood mixed with flying dirt. Those who had not been hit froze in shock.
“A-a giant ballista!”
It was no ordinary bolt. Thick enough that two men could not wrap their arms around it, it looked like a siege engine carved from a centuries-old tree. Yet tenfold numbers still buoyed their courage.
“Run! Climb the walls! Fear nothing!”
The lead general screamed until his throat tore. Other generals took up the cry.
“His Grace is watching! Retreat means death!”
“Smash the gate! Charge!”
More of the tree-sized shafts kept coming.
Shuuuuuuuu.
Shuuuuuuuu.
Their crushing weight made blocking impossible; a glancing hit meant death. Even the blast radius forced men to dive tens of meters clear. The wave of infantry faltered for a heartbeat.
“You dogs! Attack!”
Officers behind them waved swords, goading the infantry on.
“Ugh!”
Most of the soldiers were conscripts. Three years of drought—they were neither well-fed nor well-trained. Their numbers alone kept morale high; the moment things grew difficult, that morale plummeted. Forward meant death by the enemy; backward meant death by their own officers. Same either way. So they ran the way they had been drilled.
“Strike!”
“We outnumber them!”
“Waaaaaah!”
Hundreds of soldiers slammed into the gate. Picks bit into stone, maces hammered the doors. Ladders rose one after another; sandbags piled against the base of the wall.
Then a strange vibration ran through the entire fortification.
Vrrrrrrrm…
The castle of multicolored blocks shuddered and shifted as though it were alive.
Creeeak.
An eerie sound. The wall began to tip forward.
“Wh-what?!”
Soldiers clinging to the wall or clustered beneath it stared blankly at the tilting mass. Not a single Rodriguez soldier remained on the battlements where moments earlier they had been raining arrows. Instead the vast face of the wall cast a deepening shadow as it leaned ever closer.