Teachings of the Red Holy Water

"Cease fire."

The voice coming from my mouth still felt unfamiliar. Where had that thick, gravelly roar gone—the one that used to echo across the training grounds back in my Special Forces days? Instead, a cute little high school girl's voice rang out through the forest. Isia. Every time I heard that new name referring to my body, or this excessively clear voice, chills ran down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my spine. It was disgustingly pure for the voice of a butcher who'd just slaughtered dozens of rebels moments ago.

"Ack! Cease fire!"

Private Kim immediately released the trigger and responded. He was a Mana Legion unit created by the system, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he obeyed mechanically regardless of how my voice sounded. But I, the one giving the orders, felt awkward as hell.

'460 points...'

The only thing proving I wasn't dreaming was the blue notification window floating in front of me. I sighed and went to holster the pistol at my waist—then paused. Shit, no tactical belt snug around my hips like back in the day. All I had on this body was a loose school uniform skirt. The K5 Pistol, jammed awkwardly into the waistband without a holster, kept slipping down. And worst of all, this weird jiggle around my chest with every intense movement— no sign of getting used to that anytime soon.

I swept back my swaying black hair with slender fingers. The silky texture against my skin felt creepily alien compared to the rough feel of my old combat uniform. 'Gonna have to give up on washing this hair in under three minutes with this body.'

Looking at my slim wrists and smooth skin brought a harsh reality check. No trace of the calluses from my Special Forces days. But the cold, sharp feel of the trigger under these delicate fingertips? That was still vivid as ever. Guess the art of killing was etched into the soul, body be damned.

#2

"Saint... truly, truly thank you...! This grace... I'll never forget it, not in life... nor in death!"

Iris rose on trembling legs and prostrated herself at my feet. Her dress was torn in places from crashing through the brush and caked in dirt, but the look in her eyes as she gazed up at me was more reverent than ever. No, it bordered on blind fanaticism. Special Forces manuals never covered how to handle this shit. Hell, turning into a black-haired beauty with "Captain" vibes and receiving bows from a medieval noble lady was way off-script.

"Told you, not a saint. And just stand up. Hate seeing someone kneel in front of a soldier."

My voice stayed ice-cold, but Iris seemed to interpret it as 'the noble saint's stern grace.'

"No! You commanded God's messenger to judge the wicked, so you must be the light of salvation descended upon this land! That knight in the spotted clothes must be a guardian from the heavens! The sheer pressure... I can't even meet his eyes!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose at Iris's dramatics. Guardian from the heavens, my ass—just ROK Army Private Kim Cheol-su. He stood there like a stone statue, rifle pointed forward, utterly expressionless. But to Iris, that mechanical blankness apparently screamed otherworldly dignity.

Gurgle—

Then a cute but desperate rumble echoed from Iris's stomach. She flushed red and bowed her head. Makes sense—she'd been fleeing rebels and starving for days.

I casually opened the system shop and spent 1 PT. "Hungry? Eat this."

What appeared in my hand was Combat Ration Type 1: Beef Stir-Fry. And I pulled one more secret weapon from my pocket.

"Th-this... is it divine manna? Food appearing from a pocket...!"

"It's combat rations. And this is Mastdasi. Like holy water infused with the spirit of rice. Mix it in."

Iris gingerly pulled the heater pack tab. Hiss— White steam billowed up. She gasped endlessly at the self-heating pouch with no magic crystals.

"Ooh... it's hot! A bag that generates heat on its own without mana stones! Heavenly artifacts are on another level! God's blessing condensed in this tiny pouch!"

Moments later, she mixed the ripe rice with a generous heap of red Mastdasi and took a spoonful. Her face froze. Then her eyes widened, and she started trembling all over.

"Th-this flavor...! It's like fireworks exploding on my tongue! Sweet yet spicy, this intense brain-melting stimulation...! Saint, this is heavenly cuisine! It shakes my soul more than any feast I've ever had! No, this isn't just taste... it's salvation itself!"

Tears streaming like she was sobbing, she shoveled it down relentlessly. Modern chemical seasonings and gochujang's fiery punch were obliterating this medieval lady's palate. To someone used to bland bread and unsalted meat, Mastdasi was straight-up addictive. Red sauce smeared her lips, but ladylike dignity? Forgotten.

"Don't overdo it or you'll shit blood tomorrow. Pace yourself."

At my gruff words, Iris looked even more awestruck—like 'As expected of the Saint, every word brimming with mercy for the flesh's comfort.' She scraped up every last grain.

Watching her, I felt... weird. Was this the legendary 'K-food evangelism'?

#3

After the meal, I laid out a real plan to retake the territory. Reinhardt Barony's main castle. Thousands of enemies holed up there. Available PT: 460. Summoning one or two more riflemen wouldn't cut it. Needed overwhelming firepower to shatter their will.

Medieval knights staked their lives on a single sword, but modern warfare? Saturate the zone and erase it. Death raining from distances they couldn't even see—that's how you rule with terror.

"System, open shop."

My eyes locked on option 2 without hesitation. Wanted an 81mm mortar, but points weren't there yet. Settled for the squad's flower instead.

"Purchase K3 Machine Gun."

With a puff of white smoke, a heavy iron beast materialized at my feet. The ROK standard light machine gun, K3—capable of dumping over 700 5.56mm rounds per minute. Its crude black barrel fused with a 200-round box mag exuded savage menace.

"Whoa, this thing's heavy."

I tried lifting it myself and grunted. Back then, I could've swung it one-handed. Now, this high school girl's strength barely budged it. My slim arms shook; my balance wobbled. The more I struggled, the tighter my uniform shirt buttons strained. Fuck this.

"Private Kim, you carry it. Pistol's enough for me."

"Ack! Machine gun received!"

Luckily, my summon had no strength limits. He slung the K3 effortlessly over his shoulder—like a legendary giant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a greatsword. Iris dropped her spoon, muttering.

"That knight... now he's carrying an even bigger holy relic. Is he going to shatter the castle walls with it? If flames erupt from there, the world might end..."

Terror mixed with blind faith in me. She couldn't yet imagine the slaughtering flames that iron monster would unleash.

I smirked bitterly and racked the K5's slide one more time. "Walls might be too much, but I can sure as hell punch holes in the heads on top. If their god ignores their prayers, my bullets'll answer instead."

I brushed off my rumpled skirt and stood. Stuffing spare mags into my slender thighs looked ridiculous, but my eyes burned with the old captain's killer instinct.

"Iris, to your castle. Time to reclaim my points... er, your territory."

I ordered Private Kim to scout ahead and pushed through the forest. Outwardly a dazzling black-haired girl commander, inwardly the pitch-black captain. Trailed by her silent machine gunner and the lady who'd sold her soul to Mastdasi. This bizarre unit's first territory reclamation op was underway.

The enemy had no clue. What true 'divine punishment' felt like from 700 lead rounds per minute—not magic, not swords.

Let's go. Time for the final battle. Time for every bullet I had to turn into their screams.