You Must Not Die
To win a war, you needed clear knowledge of your enemy.
That was all the more true when the enemy was not human — when they were unknown creatures closer to monsters than anything else.
Even if they seemed to pose little threat for the moment, even if they still died to a single bullet or a single shell the way they always had… there was always the chance that someday, somehow, they would become dangerous.
For that reason, I had constantly worked to understand the Abysses — the unknown enemy we were fighting — as clearly as I could. In time, I managed to build a framework around them.
A tactical framework, drawn from observing their patterns of behavior.
On that foundation I had achieved results that were, by my own measure, more than respectable. At the very least, I had never once suffered a strategic defeat that cost us our own people — even if outright victory sometimes eluded us.
But the more I fought them using that framework, the more I began to notice something.
Their behavior was developing discrepancies.
Small changes you could easily overlook if you weren't paying attention.
Lower-class Abysses that, even in a frenzy, would break formation and peel off elsewhere — or that would step into a trap a beat too late, as if something had held them back.
Middle-class Abysses that seemed to deliberately avoid S-class hunters, prioritizing A-class targets instead.
And most decisive of all… the upper-tier specimens — the so-called Upper-class Abysses — that had been, little by little, finding their own answers to human weaponry and changing form to match.
Watching those exceptions, and the speed of their evolution, I had been guarding against one particular possibility for a long time.
Not now, perhaps — but someday…
Abysses that could operate with tactics the way humans did. Abysses that possessed what you might call intelligence.
To most people it would have sounded like a grim joke. I believed it was a real possibility — a future that would arrive eventually, so long as the Abysses were not driven to extinction.
But the fear I had hoped was only paranoia…
Became reality far sooner than I had ever expected.
It arrived with the worst news imaginable: the massacre of my old comrades.
After a heavy silence that stretched on for a while, I finally managed to gather myself and, with difficulty, picked up the phone again.
"J-Jinhyun oppa… are you okay?"
"…Not really. But I can still talk. So — how are things on the front?"
"Th-there? I heard they're still holding the enemy off, just barely. But it doesn't sound good either. They're sending reinforcements, but there are so many Abysses, and more than anything the damage from the last defeat was just too heavy…"
"…Is that so. But the defensive line is still holding, at least?"
"Yeah. But I don't know how long that will last. I heard the military is determined to hold the Hamhung front no matter what… but overall, everyone's outlook seems pretty bleak."
Hamhung — the coastal sector that served as the supply gateway for our forces. If that fell, it wouldn't just be a matter of holding the line. In the worst case, every territory we had taken could be stripped away. The military would fight tooth and nail to keep it.
If we can at least hold Hamhung, there's still some hope. The real problem is what comes next. After a blow like that, the military will scramble to raise more troops however they can — and if that happens…
That thought brought something else to mind, and I asked Jiseon carefully.
"I almost forgot to ask. What happens to the ones left? You and the other two S-class hunters…"
"That… I don't know for sure yet either. But with only the three of us left, the guild will definitely be dissolved… and we'll probably all end up going our separate ways. As for where, I'll have to wait and see a little longer."
"…Got it. You're going through a lot yourself. Thanks for telling me."
"This is all part of my penance, you know? I'll keep the promise I made to you no matter what, so don't worry."
Na Jiseon's voice carried a seriousness that settled somewhere in my chest. For reasons I couldn't quite name, a thin thread of relief loosened there, and I spoke to her clearly.
"Right… that promise. I need you to remember it going forward. Four years. No matter how hellish things get, you have to keep working for me until then — so until at least that long, you must not die."
"Are you… worried about me right now…?"
Something almost bright threaded through her voice. I answered her firmly.
"Yeah. I am worried. Honestly, thinking about what happened back then still leaves a bad taste — but that and someone dying are two different things. So don't die. Survive however you have to, all the way to the end."
"…Okay… I understand, oppa… I promise…"
"Alright. I'm hanging up."
I ended the call with the weight of something unspoken still lingering in Jiseon's voice.
Then my eyes found Glass and Kwon Soon, both still wearing that grave expression — and Are, who seemed to be radiating a faint, uneasy discomfort.
"As you heard… the situation doesn't appear to be developing well."
"Frankly, Aide, I still find it hard to believe. Abysses that plan operations and act on them the way humans do. Having a measure of intellect and commanding a large force to execute strategy are entirely different things…"
"I feel the same way. But it is an established fact. I don't know by what means or through what process — but something has clearly and abruptly changed the situation."
"In short, things just got a lot more troublesome. The old methods aren't going to cut it anymore."
"Yes. Put plainly, that's exactly it."
Kwon Soon had named the feeling I was carrying with perfect precision. Are watched us, then spoke in a calm voice touched with something darker.
"This is bad… At this rate, the odds that even we will be sent back to the front are going to rise. Of course it would be best if things never deteriorate that far… but given how the military has been handling things internally, it may well…"
As she said it, Are glanced at me for some reason. I nodded slowly and continued.
"Until now, the military has been reluctant to hire Black Hunters like us — if only for the sake of appearances. If the situation worsens, though, that is almost certainly the direction things will take. They can't forcibly conscript Black Hunters who are, after all, private enterprises — but I expect a great many high-paying contracts will start coming in."
In a truly desperate crisis, the military might try to force the issue rather than work through contracts… but the chances of that were vanishingly small.
A large share of the Black Hunter companies in Korea belonged to overseas parent corporations, and Dreamouth was no exception. No matter how urgent the situation or how powerful the state, forcibly conscripting mercenaries under a foreign corporate entity was impossible under international law. Push it through under the banner of domestic emergency, and the price exacted later by those foreign conglomerates would be more than anyone could bear. On that point, at least, we did not need to worry.
Recognizing that a situation thick with both crisis and opportunity was drawing near, we finished the conversation.
And then I…
I said I needed a moment to rest, and went into my room alone.
The feelings I had forced down into a corner of my heart just long enough to finish talking — the loss, the emptiness… and the guilt, and the grief — began to flood back in.