The Longest Path to the Red Dot
Thududududududu! The rotor noise that made my ears ring vibrated the aircraft violently. Yet inside the helicopter, the air remained as calm as ever. If ordinary people saw this scene, they might imagine soldiers heading into the line of fire with grim resolve, but to our Team 1, this shaking was no different from a slightly noisy bus on the morning commute.
I turned my head and scanned my familiar kids. By the window, Sirius sat beside Felis, gazing out at the scenery. The wolf demi-human, built like a mountain, was wagging his tail so excitedly that I worried it might smack Felis in the face.
Across from them sat our team's brain, Belphe. Instead of his usual assault rifle, he had a long-barreled sniper rifle resting on his knees, silently inspecting it. Perhaps because it had been a while since his last sniping mission, his fox ears stood alert as he focused, looking quite serious.
And right in front of me was our rookie, Spica. He clearly wasn't used to this "commute" yet. His face was stiff, and he was staring straight at me as if the answer to everything was written on my face.
I didn't avoid his gaze and grinned. "What's wrong? Got something on my face?"
[...]
"Relax. This mission has good visibility, so it'll be much easier than last time."
When my voice came through the headset, Spica flinched as if snapping out of a trance. [Y-yes, ma'am! I trust my teammates, so there's nothing to worry about!]
His answer was loud, but his eyes were darting around, unfocused. He hadn't actually been looking at me—he'd just been staring blankly from tension.
Cute.
Instead of teasing him, I gave him a gentle smile through my helmet. That alone would be enough comfort for him.
I shifted my gaze to the window behind Spica. Normally, our helicopter would be the only one floating in the ashen sky. But today was different. One helicopter on my side of the window, another on Sirius and Felis's side—three transport helicopters flying in formation toward the operation zone.
Yeah... this operation is definitely on a bigger scale.
I smirked at my reflection in the window. Just then, static crackled in the headset, followed by the association staff member's characteristically stiff, businesslike voice. At the same time, the visor screen lit up translucently, and a map of the Art Village popped up before my eyes. The three-dimensional map, combining satellite imagery and terrain data, showed building outlines and roads traced in thin lines.
[Team 1 will deploy to the central district of the Art Village.]
The Art Village... the place they mentioned in the briefing.
It was a village on the outskirts of Paju where artists gathered. From traditional workshops to modern art galleries, it was the kind of neighborhood tourists flocked to on weekends with cameras. To the monsters, it must have looked like an all-you-can-eat buffet with prey gathered in one place.
[Currently, a large number of low-grade monsters have attacked the village. Surviving civilians are isolated in three temporary shelters.]
As the staff member's voice continued, three red dots appeared on the map one after another. One in the north, one in the southwest, and one deep in the center of the village. Each dot represented a shelter where people were hiding and trembling.
Three... three of them, scattered?
The distance between the dots wasn't small. The shelters were spread out so haphazardly that we'd have to cross the entire village, with monsters roaming between them. Three circles labeled 1, 8, and 6 appeared on the map and began moving slowly toward each red dot. Team 8 toward the northern dot, Team 6 toward the southwestern one, and our Team 1's circle drew a long arrow from the landing point on the outskirts all the way to the red dot in the center.
Hah...
I swallowed a sigh inwardly. So the ace team gets the toughest job, huh.
The other two teams would have shelters right in front of them upon landing, but we had to push through monster-infested streets from the outskirts to the center. It was an unwritten rule in this field that the team with the most merit got the hardest assignment, but this felt less like an assignment and more like being thrown into the fire.
[Team 8 will handle the Traditional District, Team 6 the Art District.]
On the visor map, I could see 8 and 6 settling into their respective zones. The Traditional District would be the tile-roofed houses and workshops, while the Art District would be the galleries and sculpture parks. The buildings were relatively dense, offering plenty of cover and shorter travel distances.
[Team 1 will rescue the civilians isolated in the Modern and Contemporary District and escort them to the designated location.]
The circle marked 1 slid slowly toward the Modern and Contemporary District. It stopped at a building on the edge of the zone, suggesting we'd move to the nearest cover from the landing point first, then push deeper into the area.
Escort them, huh... easy for them to say.
The distance to the red dot, the number of monsters filling the gaps, the return route we'd have to fight through while protecting civilians—nothing about it looked easy. This wasn't some cushy mission where we could just hunker down and wait for an extraction helicopter. It meant running in, rescuing people, and running back out—fighting the longest and hardest.
Yeah... that explains why three helicopters took off.
An operation of this scale meant each team had to operate independently, with little expectation of mutual support.
I lightly gripped and released the shotgun handle resting on my knees.
[Any questions?]
After the staff member's businesslike voice, a brief silence fell inside the helicopter. I felt everyone's eyes turn to me. I licked my lips slightly and spoke into the mic.
"What about the scattered survivors? There are probably more besides the three temporary shelters."
People who couldn't make it to the shelters. Those who hid in nearby buildings or alleys because they didn't have time to reach the shelters when the monsters attacked. In a large-scale attack like this, it's unrealistic for every civilian to evacuate neatly to the designated shelters. They're not trained soldiers—how many ordinary people could calmly run to a designated location when monsters suddenly appear?
[Yes. We've instructed scattered survivors to hide as best they can and naturally join the teams as they move.]
"This is going to be a mess..."
I muttered briefly and scanned the map on my visor again. The paths from the outskirts to the center, the alleys between buildings, the obstacles scattered on the roads—monsters could burst out from anywhere, and at the same time, hidden civilians could suddenly appear.
"So we won't know if what's jumping out is a monster or a civilian."
It meant fire control would be hell. When something bursts from around a corner, we'd have only a split second to determine if it was a monster or a terrified person. We'd have to decide whether to pull the trigger in that instant, and one wrong shot meant shooting the very people we came to save.
[Yes. That's why we're sending the most professional mobile rescue team.]
It was a nice thing to hear, but...
We're not exactly a perfect team either.
I tore my eyes from the visor map and glanced at Spica sitting across from me. The rookie whose fists on his knees had gone white from tension. Beside him, Sirius with his tail now still, and Belphe fiddling with his sniper scope, fox ears perked. We weren't comic-book heroes. We were just people. Whether we had tails, pointed ears, or carried shields, we bled when shot, hurt when pricked by thorns, and collapsed when pushed past our limits. And now we had to drag a rookie whose only real combat experience was this second mission into that chaos.
Still, we have to do it.
Because the people in those red dots would die if we didn't.
I glared at the map on my visor once more and spoke. "Everyone heard the briefing, right?"
When my voice spread through the headsets, the team members nodded in unison. Sirius, who had been looking out the window, Belphe, who had been fiddling with his scope, and even Spica, who had been clenching his fists—they'd all seen the same map through their visors, so they knew the situation without me saying it.
"Belphe's on sniper duty today, so the rest of you will have to work a bit harder."
[Yes, ma'am.]
Their responses overlapped through the headsets. That was just talk—Belphe dropping out didn't mean our combat power decreased. Quite the opposite. While we'd be busy with the civilians, he'd clean up monsters from a distance and relay real-time updates on the evacuation routes through his scope. Our eyes and ears. No one was better suited for that role than the calm fox demi-human Belphe. His perked fox ears could pick up sounds far beyond a normal awakened's hearing, and more importantly, he was the most level-headed member of our team. Just knowing he was watching from above, distinguishing footsteps amid gunfire and catching monster breaths through the wind, significantly raised our survival chances on the ground.
Your absence will be big, but the gap you fill from above is even bigger.
I glanced at Belphe, and he silently nodded, quietly pulling back the bolt of his sniper rifle to check the chamber. Click—a crisp metallic sound was his reply.
"The rest of you will move in a V-formation."
When I drew a simple formation diagram on the visor, everyone's eyes locked onto the screen. My icon was placed at the front tip of the V.
"My shield looks like a rival monster's maw to them, so their attention will be on me."
It was true. Because of the special coating on the shield, it would look to them like a massive black something charging with its mouth wide open. So instinctively, they'd target me first and attack me first.
"The risk of getting bitten by monsters will be relatively low, so the members spreading out on either side behind me should focus on securing civilians and watching the flanks."
The core of the V-formation was simple. While I drew the monsters' attention and attacks from the front, the two wings behind me would handle civilians and respond to unexpected situations. My shield and shotgun would deal with frontal threats, and the team members would cover the blind spots on the left and right. In other words, I'd be the umbrella. I'd take all the rain, but the people underneath would stay dry.
Having to be the one getting wet isn't exactly my favorite, but whatever. I can handle this much rain.
I closed the visor screen and turned to look across from me. "And Spica."
[Yes, ma'am!]
His answer was so loud it made the headset crackle. Probably from tension—his voice was full of force, which made my own ears tense up in response.
"You said you did some shooting back in the countryside. I'm looking forward to seeing how calmly you handle things."
[Yes!]
This time the answer was shorter, but it carried conviction. The difference between the harmful animals he'd dealt with in the countryside and actual monsters was like heaven and earth, but having experience aiming a gun at a living target was a big asset for a rookie.
"And..."
I paused for a moment, then added in a deliberately light tone, "This might sound like a joke, but even if you accidentally shoot someone, I'll heal them with my skill, so don't worry."
A strange silence fell inside the helicopter. Sirius looked at me like he was about to jump, and Felis's cat ears perked up as her eyes widened. Well, telling someone it was okay to accidentally shoot wasn't usually taken as a joke. But this was half serious, half joking. In real combat, what rookies feared most wasn't the monsters—it was the terror that their bullet might hit a civilian. That fear would stiffen the finger on the trigger, the stiff finger would miss the timing, and the missed timing would lead to a real accident. It was better to say it in advance. That there was someone right next to them who could bring them back even if they made a mistake.
[Don't worry! I'm confident in my calmness!]
Spica answered brightly and stroked the rifle on his knees. The way he gently ran his fingertips along the barrel, as if petting a beloved animal, made him look exactly like a child who'd just received a new toy. When the corner of his mouth lifted into a shy smile, I found myself smiling too.
Good... he'll be fine.
A rookie's confidence could turn into recklessness, and recklessness into accidents. It was a harsh formula everyone who'd been in this field for years knew, and I'd fallen victim to it more than once or twice myself. But my gut told me Spica was someone I could trust. Why? Because he was a medic. People in the medical profession were the type who, even if a patient was bleeding out or their heart stopped right in front of them, would force their trembling hands to move and do what needed to be done. They'd staunch bleeding instead of panicking, check pulses instead of screaming. People trained like that to the bone would fear losing a patient more than a stray bullet.
If that calmness holds up in the field...
I pulled my gaze from Spica stroking his rifle and looked back at the sky beyond the visor.