Yongsan Battle (3)

It had been twenty-seven days since I joined the alliance forces. Three days ago, the Reconstruction Government's army arrived in Yongsan. Both the alliance forces and the Reconstruction Government's troops were stationed in Yongsan, preparing for the imminent battle.

The Reconstruction Government had started building their positions immediately upon arrival, but they must have been shocked by the alliance's defenses. They probably expected to find alliance soldiers suffering from severe water shortages and gripped by the fear of death. Instead, they saw troops who were well-fed, clean, and rested—morale soaring through the roof.

I'd heard about the alliance's defensive lines through the radio and, out of curiosity, briefly activated a drone to take a look. I saw rows of mortars, howitzers, and machine guns. It was straight out of a movie. The stronger awakeners were armed mainly with melee weapons like swords and axes.

You can't stop a spy once they're in. There were undoubtedly Reconstruction Government spies embedded within the alliance. That's why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we opted for the opposite strategy: deliberately leaking information.

Once the Reconstruction Government's leadership heard from their spies that the alliance wasn't struggling with supplies, they'd start thinking about me. They already knew of my existence, so that part might not shock them. But what came next would be hard to believe.

In the early days of the gate crisis, there were tons of monster-like awakeners, or so I'm told. They fought fiercely for their own reasons, and many died or suffered injuries so severe—even with awakener regeneration—that they were forced into retirement.

Lee Seong-guk was one such case. He was Ham Seong-hoon's right-hand man and sworn brother, the one who contributed most to growing the Seonghun Merchant Association into what it was. With his monstrous strength, he crushed rival factions, subjugated raiders, and laid the foundation for the group. But in one battle, he took severe nerve damage and could no longer fight on the front lines.

Right after the hospital opened, Ham Seong-hoon brought up Lee Seong-guk. He described his subordinate—who was now wheelchair-bound due to nerve damage—as his sworn brother and begged me to have him checked out. But even as he said it, he didn't hold out much hope. They'd probably tried everything, from recovery-type special awakeners to every treatment available, with no improvement.

I told Ham Seong-hoon to send Lee Seong-guk to Nakyuan with neurology and neurosurgery specialists. When he arrived in the truck, he was wheeling himself with just his right arm—his left side also impaired. His men offered to push, but he waved them off and came before me alone. "Your Excellency, I sincerely apologize for not being able to stand due to my condition," he said, bowing his head.

He was thirty-six, but the injuries and stress had turned his hair completely white. I ordered Lee Kyung-min to prioritize his treatment, and the moment he arrived, Kyung-min and the specialists diagnosed him and performed surgery that first day. It took two sessions over two days, followed by twenty-three days in a private recovery room.

And then, like a miracle, he woke up fully healed.

On discharge day, Lee Seong-guk came to me, sobbing like a child—tears and snot streaming down his face. He prostrated himself for over two hours, expressing his gratitude.

Beyond him, twenty-six other awakeners—with injuries that would have kept them out of this battle—returned to the front lines after more than twenty days of treatment.

By now, the Reconstruction Government's leaders would have received reports like this from their spies:

The specter of defeat—a future they'd never even imagined—must now loom before them. Our supplies were more abundant, our defenses far sturdier than their freshly built ones, and worst of all, our awakener numbers kept growing as injured ones recovered daily.

They had no choice but to launch a preemptive strike before our forces swelled further. In the strategy games I used to play before the world ended, this was called a "nigawa"—forcing the enemy out.

Inside the command tent, my voice carried the most weight. The soldiers could never have dreamed of unlimited drinking water, daily wipe-downs with basin water, or even occasional showers. On top of that, I'd supplied two thousand more cans of preserved food, bringing the total to ten thousand for the alliance. I'd healed their wounded awakeners—even near-paraplegics—and gotten them back on their feet.

Water and cans have a price, but healing? That's priceless.

No leader in the tent could challenge my opinion. As Nakyuan's influence dominated the command council—threatening its original purpose of five equal leaders checking and balancing each other—the council promised to record my favors in the ledger and repay them after the war, in some form. I didn't know how, but it put my mind at ease.

I got a sitrep from Jeong Su-hwan over the radio.

"Yes, Your Excellency! Security Chief speaking."

"Yeah. Any unusual activity from the Reconstruction side?"

"We heard machine gun and mortar fire at night, but it's just their small recon teams. No full assault yet."

"More cautious than expected. Makes sense... defeat here ends them."

"Your Excellency, Governor Im and we stand ready for your orders."

"Got it. But tonight's different. I've already informed the alliance, so no need to relay."

"If it's not too presumptuous, may I ask what you'll be doing?"

"To smoke rats out of their hole, you fill the entrance with fumes."

The Reconstruction Government had hunkered down longer than anticipated without attacking, so tonight, I'd unleash drone terror. To avoid detection, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I took a circuitous route—a flight over an hour long—before reaching their camp where soldiers gathered to rest.

Tents lined up, bonfires roaring in drums. Soldiers clustered in conversation or stared blankly into space.

Lying about feeling nothing for killing? Bullshit. But I'm not warm-hearted enough to show mercy to those coming to kill us.

Bang! Four drones targeted the densest clusters, firing eight dissolving liquid spheres—two each.

"Argh! Enemy attack!"

"Fuck! What is this? Water—now!"

"Please! Get this off me... ugh."

"Stay back! That liquid melts flesh! Everyone, scatter!"

"Don't go! Please... save me..."

The sizzle of burning flesh and bone echoed as I turned the drones and withdrew.

I repeated the drone terror for two nights. This morning, Jeong Su-hwan reported that all the war merchants had pulled out from their positions. These "merchants of death" followed battlefields, gouging soldiers with inflated prices. Their departure meant real combat was imminent.

They likely knew about the drones and the limits on their mysterious acid shots.

From the Reconstruction Government's view, they'd run out of supplies first, our awakeners would keep multiplying, and we'd bleed them dry with terror attacks. The smoke was in; time for the rats to emerge.

"Your Excellency! The enemy is advancing!"

"Good."

I activated all four drones and launched Operation Angel of Death.

The alliance's original grand strategy: We'd gained a powerhouse in Lee Seong-guk, but the enemy still held a slight edge in numbers and average quality. They planned to pick off the enemy's awakener units piecemeal.

I opposed it outright. The enemy would mass their awakeners to obliterate our lines, so instead of blocking it, I said let them.

The council panicked, but no one could gainsay me. "Council members, trust me and focus on defense."

That was all I said. It was a tight-security op, so I didn't detail it even to them. They trusted me.

Three thousand Reconstruction soldiers and three hundred awakeners in the vanguard charged our right flank. Mortars and machine guns thundered; regular troops fell, but the awakeners took negligible hits and accelerated, confidence surging.

Then, four drones hovered at thirty meters, claws gripping a figure in a gas mask clutching a pulse rifle in each hand.

Like dropping an atomic bomb, they released Im Jui over the heart of the three-hundred-strong awakener unit. Thud.

Silence for the first few seconds. Unbelievable. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the strongest awakener dropping into three hundred foes was suicide.

But as she raised the mystery rifles, they sensed doom, charging with weapons drawn.

"Kill her!"

"Don't know what it is, but take her out fast!"

Too late.

Im Jui spun in place, unleashing two hundred recoil-free pulse rounds.

Pzzzt!

"Gah! Fuck! Dodge! That's no ordinary gun!"

"Special awakener! Everyone, guns—urk!"

"Don't run! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kill and neutralize her!"

"Captain! Can't get close! Those bullets pierce awakeners... argh! Fuck! My leg!"

"Everyone, fall back!"

In just four seconds—her spinning barrage—over half the three hundred vanguard awakeners were dead or critically wounded. Pulse rounds tore mercilessly through tough awakener flesh, one shot piercing three or four heads or guts.

Even the strong ones who survived bled profusely, faces twisted in terror.

I scooped Im Jui by the shoulders with the drones and extracted the Angel of Death from hell. Then fired a smoke grenade: green for abort and hold; red for charge.

Red smoke streaked the sky, and our awakener units surged toward the routed remnants.

The enemy's three thousand, seeing their near-wiped vanguard, morale shattered and retreated.

Two drones carried Im Jui; the other two gripped the pulse rifles. Back to base.

Telling the Han sisters the op succeeded, Han Seol said, "Do-hyun, the war is over."

"Huh? That's just the vanguard."

"Master, losing three hundred awakeners is near-total annihilation."

The enemy losses were devastating, but they still had forces left. Yet Han Byeol and Han Seol declared the war won the instant the op succeeded.