How to Survive in the 28th Guild
When it came to waging war, the most fundamental truth one had to understand was this: war was never something you fought alone.
An individual's ability had clear limits. So, too, did any single person's capacity to grasp the overall state of a campaign and the currents running through it.
That was why anyone who stepped onto a battlefield needed, above all else, trust in their commander—someone positioned to see what they themselves could not, and to make the most accurate judgments from that vantage. Even when those judgments were impossible to understand in the moment, a soldier's most basic duty was to believe in that wider vision, to rely on it, and to act accordingly.
And in answer to that trust, a commander was obligated to issue decisions that would lead their forces to victory, and to deliver those orders with unwavering resolve.
The finest soldier was an obedient one—someone who trusted their commander and followed orders without fail. The finest commander was someone who made the right call at every turn and, on that foundation, led their troops with iron will.
Obey thoroughly. Command decisively.
Those were the bedrock virtues of anyone who made war, and only when both sides of that exchange ran smoothly could victory be won.
And by that measure… the fate of the core force driving this massive offensive against the Abysses was already sealed.
"Vanguard has swept the enemy! No further signs detected!"
"Excellent! Push forward as we are!"
The operations room buzzed with victory reports pouring in from every direction. Among those present was the man currently serving as adjutant of the 28th Guild.
He had held his seat for more than two months in a place that had earned a reputation as a graveyard for adjutants—an achievement that, if one were being generous, could be called impressive. The truth, however, had less to do with competence than with his easygoing nature.
Elite adjutants, as a rule, came armed with the pride of hard-won knowledge and academic credentials, and that pride made every last one of them stubborn. The S-class hunters of the 28th Guild—accustomed to throwing their Guild Master's authority and their own clout around as they pleased—clashed with those elite adjutants constantly. Add the hunters' arrogance, their utter disregard for anyone beneath them, and their habit of treating adjutants like dogs, and the situation only got uglier. Most adjutants arrived already half-ready to leave, toughed it out for about a month in that miserable hole, and then got out.
And yet this man—assigned to the wretched 28th Guild against his will—was still coasting along without any real trouble.
Unlike the others, he had no particular ambition and no strong opinions of his own. He was a yes-man by temperament, and his knack for handling the small, domestic chores of guild life meant that Sena and the other S-class hunters found him reasonably tolerable. So while every other adjutant had crashed and burned, he had adapted well enough to keep his head down and stay quiet.
Even in this large-scale assault, he felt no particular drive. His goal in life was to cause no accidents, keep his superiors happy, and survive thin and long—and events of this magnitude were the last thing he wanted. At times like these, the best strategy was simply to hope everything passed without incident and ride it out in silence.
So while cheers rose around him, he kept his presence as small as possible and simply watched the advancing units on the displays before him.
They're fighting well enough. Not that it has anything to do with me. I just hope the vanguard keeps rolling north and finishes this war without me having to lift a finger.
Allied forces were driving hard from the forward base at Pyongyang all the way toward the Hamgyong region. Abyss resistance had proven far weaker than expected, and the hunters and commanders, watching their own side surge north on a string of victories, were burning with the thrill of triumph.
But in that moment, one fact began to register in the 28th Guild adjutant's eyes: Guild Master Lee Sena, who had been given almost no chance to take the field, was looking less and less pleased by the hour.
Hmm… looks like she's in a foul mood from not getting any action. Best to play dead and stay quiet. Poke her now and the sparks might fly this way…
With that thought, the adjutant slipped out of his seat on the thin excuse of taking a break.
Meanwhile, indifferent to their invisible colleague's circumstances, the adjutants and generals in the operations room watched the allied advance stretch farther and farther north, and thick smiles of pure elation spread across their faces.
The original plan had been straightforward: the vanguard would provoke and draw the enemy, and the main force—including the 28th Guild—would rush in to annihilate them. But the Abysses in question were folding under the vanguard's assault alone, dying in droves without ever giving the main force a reason to move. The advance was so effortless it almost made their entire preparation feel like an excess of caution.
In any ordinary situation, the commanders and generals running the operation would have grown suspicious by now. An abnormal ease usually meant the enemy was planning something—that a scheme was in play. But the beings they faced were not human. They were Abysses: creatures of little more than bestial intelligence, capable only of raw numbers and destructive instinct, not of strategy or deception. That such things could ever employ tactics the way humans did was, in their minds, simply impossible—and the hunters slaughtering Abysses on the front lines believed the same.
"Tch… of all the ways for this to go."
Lee Sena had thrown herself into the thick of the campaign expecting to be the dazzling heroine of a hard-won victory. The situation was not cooperating. The hunter guilds of the vanguard—meant to serve as little more than bait or support—were sweeping the Abysses aside on their own, and the fighting kept ending before her 28th Guild, sitting with the main force, ever got a chance to step in.
"Well, it's a little disappointing… but good news is still good news, right? No need for us to go out and fight ourselves if things keep going like this."
"Haa… I mean, I guess…"
Choi Yujin's voice carried both regret and a thread of relief. Sena offered a token agreement, but her heart was nowhere near it.
Damn it… is this war really going to end like this? I will not allow it. I will not throw away the perfect chance to wipe clean every failure the 28th Guild has suffered—not like this!
This was the golden opportunity her father had used his influence to create. The whole world was watching. No one else could rack up more brilliant achievements. This was the ultimate chance to prove that casting out that bastard Lee Jinhyun had been the right call. And Sena would not accept a reality in which she merely trailed behind a vanguard that was gleefully stacking glory while that once-in-a-lifetime chance sat right in front of her.
There's no way it ends like this. An opening will come soon enough. The vanguard has to be wearing down from fight after fight—if I just wait a little longer, the perfect moment for us to take center stage will…
Eyes lit with a cold, hungry fire, Sena waited for her chance to claim the glory.
And then—
BEEEEEEEEEEP—BEEEEEEEEEEP—
A siren tore through the air, shrill and relentless—a sound that promised something had gone terribly wrong. And for a moment, a smile began to form at the corners of Sena's mouth.