Northern Front (4)
"Time's dragging like hell."
Suddenly, one of the guards spoke up.
"Always does."
Another guard nearby chimed in agreement. They'd been staring at the snow-covered plains beyond the gates for hours now. Ever since the patrol had headed out, not a soul had passed through. And as time wore on, a thick icy fog began to blanket everything. It was the worst kind of day for duty. Of course, even on a good day, guard duty sucked.
"Creepy as hell. Feels like a demonic beast might pop out any second."
"Hell, if one did, at least it wouldn't be boring."
"Speaking of, did I tell you about Kerop dozing off on watch...?"
"That's the fifth time."
"Tch."
They'd long since exhausted their stories. At least talking passed the time. It was an emergency of sorts. They stared blankly into the fog, waiting endlessly for the shift change.
Then, a shadowy figure appeared in the distance.
"...Something's coming."
One guard noticed and gripped his spear.
"Where? Oh. Isn't that a patrolman?"
The hazy figure emerging from the fog soon came close enough to make out. The clothes and gear matched the standard patrol kit.
"But... he's alone."
There had been about eleven when they left. Why had only he returned? The guards' minds raced through grim possibilities for a lone survivor. Causes could vary, but none were good.
The guards rushed toward the patrolman.
"What happened?"
"Some accident?"
Spotting the approaching guards, the patrolman collapsed into the snow.
"Hoo... haa..."
He panted like he'd run a marathon, lips pursed as he caught his breath.
"Mid-grade... haa... demonic beast... attack..."
He squeezed out the words with effort.
"This is bad."
"I'll go report it. Where'd it hit?"
"..."
The guards quickly alerted the knights. Soon, horses carrying knights galloped off into the snow.
A patrol squad hit by a mid-grade demonic beast? Survival odds were slim.
The knights spurred their mounts, praying more soldiers might still be alive. Or at least intact bodies for recovery.
Bang!
Derek rolled left at the gunshot.
-----!
The beast roared, slamming its leg into the snow where he'd just lain.
Thud!
"!"
-------!
Another roar rattled his ears. Had the firepower been too weak?
For a split second, his family's faces flashed before him. And Rose, the smithy's daughter he'd never mustered the courage to confess to.
He didn't want to die yet.
Derek twisted around. The beast's face loomed, charging straight at him.
"Fuck...!"
Panic overtook him. Forgetting to cock the hammer, he yanked both triggers.
Click... click...
Regrettably, the second round didn't fire.
"Hah... haah..."
By the time he realized his mistake, his wits had returned enough to check the beast.
The mid-grade demonic beast was still moving—no, convulsing was more accurate.
Eyes rolled back, its house-sized body shuddered violently as it collapsed.
"Ha..."
Derek belatedly cocked the other hammer and fired.
Bang!
With the shot, the mid-grade beast went still.
"Got it..."
He'd taken down a mid-grade beast with a shotgun. The realization hit, tension drained, and Derek blacked out.
Passing several survivors confirmed they were on the right track. At this rate, they'd soon sense the mid-grade beast. But no matter how far they rode, no presence emerged.
"Did we pass it?"
"No, haven't sensed it. Keep going!"
The mid-grade knight urged his horse on in response to the junior's question. But even he wasn't certain.
The fog made visual scouting tough. Then, a shadow flickered beyond the mist.
"There!"
The knights wheeled their horses. The fog-shrouded shape sharpened—a mid-grade beast, for sure. But motionless. It should've charged by now.
Up close, it didn't stir. The mid-grade knight dismounted and approached. A patrolman lay slumped before it, clutching a shotgun.
"Check him."
"Yes, sir."
The mid-grade knight eyed the beast while ordering the junior.
"He's alive!"
"Good."
Survival confirmed.
"Guess the shotgun really works."
Tests were planned, but the results were already in.
Derek came to in a sickbed.
"Sorry I left you behind."
The squad leader had rushed over upon hearing.
"No, sir. I'm fine."
It was unavoidable. What difference would facing a mid-grade beast as a group have made? It was his best call. And everyone survived anyway.
"Really, I'm good. See? Right as rain."
He felt drained, but nothing else hurt. Only after Derek insisted repeatedly did the squad leader leave. Next came an officer.
"Walk me through it."
"Mid-grade demonic beast attacked, and..."
"Then?"
"...The slug rounds worked against it."
"Good work. Rest up—no need for salute."
After the officer left, his squadmates arrived.
"Damn, you bagged a mid-grade beast."
"Lucky you're alive."
"You okay?"
"Fit as a fiddle."
Confirming his condition:
"Talk about luck. How'd you handle a mid-grade...?"
"Spill it. Let's hear."
"Well..."
Derek recounted the fight.
"Dodged all that? What the hell are you?"
"You're insane."
"Haha, just got lucky."
"Luck my ass—that's skill."
"Hell, I'd be paste before firing."
"Nah, probably luck. Once you're better, team up with me..."
"Dumping the good stuff on the rookie? You'll lose a month's pay and your mind."
"Anyway, squad's off duty awhile. Rest easy."
"Yes, sir!"
Alone again, Derek lay back.
Lucky.
He'd see his family again. Confess to her this time. He wouldn't waste the second chance.
Meanwhile, the Northern Duke heard the officer's report.
"First slug punched through its cheek into the brain. Beast neutralized, second slug finished it."
"Hm... It really works."
Soldiers versus mid-grade beasts? Impossible. Inflicting damage on their massive frames was near-unthinkable.
"Yes, sir. With more shotguns and ammo, squads could handle mid-grades without issue."
Shotguns changed that. Limited stock now, but mass adoption would neutralize the threat.
And solve root problems after.
The duke eyed the map. Circles marked three spots around the territory—suspected beast spawn points.
"Prep for extermination."
"Yes, sir."
Secure enough shooters, invade the beasts' woods. Risky—ambushes anywhere. But necessary. Numbers approaching the territory were rising.
Eliminate them, and the North would be safe.
"Senior, Northern shotgun ops report."
Brown took the paper from his junior.
"Hm..."
Shotguns effective against beasts. Casualties down sharply post-adoption.
Brown set the report aside.
Smoother beast defense than in the original story.
He hoped shotguns kept shining.