Human Blender
Thud thud thud thud!
The ground shook under pounding hooves. A Japanese deputy general clad in red armor charged straight at me, the tip of his long spear—yari—aimed dead at my heart. Horseback momentum combined with the weight of the rider: pure concentrated kinetic energy.
Any normal person would dodge or duck behind a shield. But I didn't. If I dodged, the Hyunmu behind me—and my men inside it—would take the hit.
I planted my feet shoulder-width apart, rooting myself to the earth. Qi surged up from my danjeon. My muscles screamed as they swelled.
Come on.
Ten paces. Five. One.
With a guttural yell, the spear tip flashed forward like lightning.
"Die!"
I thrust out my left hand. Not grabbing the blade—that'd be suicide. I targeted the shaft, right below the edge.
Crack!
Got it. Friction heat seared my palm. The massive impact jolted through my shoulder and down my spine. My body slid back, carving two furrows in the dirt.
"Nngh...!"
But that was it. Even as I skidded, I held firm. My Geumgang Bulgoe bones didn't snap. My Yeokbalsan muscles endured. Neigh! Whinny!
The horse reared, front hooves flailing. I'd stopped its charge dead by gripping the spear—defying inertia with brute force.
"Wh-what?!"
The deputy's eyes bulged. Blocking a cavalry charge head-on, one-handed? To him, I was an incomprehensible monster.
"My turn."
I yanked the spear toward me. The deputy flew from his saddle. He clung desperately, but couldn't match my grip strength.
"Come down here and talk."
I released the spear and snagged his ankle mid-air, slamming him into the ground.
Boom!
"Gaaah!"
His back kissed the dirt. Red armor crumpled; helmet flew off.
I stomped his chest. Crunch—ribs cracked.
"Joseon's oni, was it?"
I loomed over him, speaking in Japanese.
"Not an oni. A grim reaper. Remember that."
I raised Mishuki, my six-tailed club.
"Death comes at nine, at ten. That's death. It's here for you now. Bye, you dropout punk."
Splat!
His skull burst like a watermelon. Even amid the battlefield din, the explosion rang clear.
The enemy commander was dead. Normally, morale would crumble. But these were Warring States veterans—tough bastards.
"The daicho is down!" "Kill him! Avenge him!"
His elite guards—fifty at least—went berserk, charging with wild eyes. Unlike regular ashigaru foot soldiers, these wore ornate armor and wielded long nodachi swords. Elites.
"Surround him! Stab from all sides!"
They encircled me in seconds. Blades gleamed from every direction.
Crisis? Nah. Opportunity.
The more they focused on me, the freer my men were. Tank pulls aggro—now time for DPS.
"Come at me! I'll grind you all!"
I regripped Mishuki.
"Hyaah!"
A sword slashed from behind. I spun, swinging the club.
Whoosh—crash!
Rotational force plus centrifugal power. The club buried into the swordsman's side. Armor crumpled like paper; his body folded into an L and flew, toppling two followers like bowling pins.
Strike.
No time to rest. Swords came from both flanks.
Clang! Thud!
Left arm blocked one blade; right hand smashed another's skull. My sleeve tore, but his head lost all shape. Uneven trade.
"Die, monster!"
They swarmed like madmen. Thrusts, slashes, overheads. Sparks flew with every hit. It stung, but no bone-deep pain.
I laughed. In my past life, I was a burnout dad crushed by overtime. Now? Battlefield king.
"More! More! Bring it!"
I whirled Mishuki like a windmill.
Vrrr—!
The air-cutting whine was eerie. Approaching arms snapped, legs buckled, heads exploded.
This wasn't battle. It was slaughter. A blender. Human ingredients fed into a massive grinder.
"Argh! My arm! My arm!" "Swords won't pierce! He's got iron skin!"
Terror crept into their eyes. Few have the guts to charge when comrades turn to pulp.
Then—
Snap.
Mishuki's head broke off. Too many hard swings against armor. Even sturdy oak couldn't handle my monster strength forever.
"Ah, damn. Mishuki..."
I tsked at the splintered haft. Mi-ryeong's inscription split in two. Time for repairs.
Weaponless, their eyes gleamed again.
"His weapon broke! Now!" "Strike!"
They roared, surging forward.
I tossed the broken stick and spread empty hands.
"Think no weapon means I can't fight?"
I grabbed a charging one's collar and hoisted him up.
"You'll be my weapon. We're one starting today."
"M-me...?"
I seized his ankle and nape, swinging him like a human club.
Whoosh!
"Gyyyaaah!"
His scream echoed as his body battered other foes. Armored adult male: 70kg. Plus my spin—better than a sledgehammer.
Splat! Crash!
Victims scattered like leaves. The one in my grip foamed at the mouth, out cold. Durability zero. "Man, can't even handle that. We're done."
I hurled him into the enemy ranks.
"Next weapon!"
I snatched a fallen yari—over three meters long.
I spun into a whirlwind.
Shwick! Shwick!
The blade danced, severing necks and legs. Absolute reach denied approach.
"Hiiik..." "Run! He's not human!" "Oni! The oni!"
They broke. Leader dead, elites minced. Before them: a three-meter blood-soaked giant laughing (that's how they saw me).
Terror spread faster than plague. My encirclement dropped weapons, backpedaling.
"Flee! Run if you wanna live!"
One turned tail—the dam burst. The horde clogging Ichi Pass screamed downhill in rout.
"Pursue! No mercy!"
Na Dae-yong bellowed from Hyunmu No. 2. Its ports opened, spewing fire at fleeing backs.
Boom! Boom!
"Waaaaah!"
Ikho Army lads charged eagerly. Nothing easier than backstabbers. They smashed skulls and looted gleefully.
I stood there, catching my breath.
"Hoo..."
Sweat and blood glued my body. Muscles throbbed with fatigue. But I felt refreshed.
We won. Ichi Pass—routed and breached by royal troops in history. We held it.
I sank to the ground, gazing at the sky. Blue expanse. Cherry petals swirled amid blood.
"Captain! You okay?!"
Choi Ga ran up, a mess himself but grinning ear-to-ear.
"Yeah. Fine. The kids?"
"Pumped. Stripping armor like crazy."
"Tell 'em easy does it and fall back. Deep pursuit hits ambushes."
"Got it!"
Choi Ga left; Seo Baek-seol approached with a water dipper. She'd managed rear logistics.
"Drink."
I gulped it down. Nectar.
"Monster."
She murmured low.
"What?"
"Monster. You. How'd you solo that many..."
Her eyes swept the corpse pile around me. Easily fifty—my kills.
"Monster's fine. He's ours."
I grinned.
"And we made bank. All loot: armor, weapons, their silver."
Seo Baek-seol's eyes sparkled.
"True. Send the recovery team. Mi-ryeong! Ledger!"
Classic. My partner—counts cash before corpses.
Battle over. Japanese 6th Division vanguard under Kobayakawa Takakage—annihilated. Main force crippled, retreated.
But I knew it wasn't done. They'd regroup, return with more troops, crueler tactics.
And Hanyang news nagged. Tangun Corps? General Shin Rip? King Seonjo?
History changed? Or same?
"Captain."
Na Dae-yong hopped from Hyunmu, standing by me.
"Wheels damaged. Gore jammed the axles, bent 'em."
"Fixable. We got an engineer."
"True. But... powder's low. Need resupply."
"No sweat. Shit happens daily."
We chuckled.
War's first button buttoned right. Rumor of Joseon's monster—that's our deadliest weapon against the Japanese.
I stood.
"Let's go. Eat, prep for round two."
I eyed broken Mishuki wistfully. Need a sturdier remake. Tsk.
One day in April 1592. Victory cries from Ichi Pass kindled a tiny spark of hope across despairing Joseon.