The Airship's Fall
General Donchaba felt a greater rage than the fear he'd sensed in Siol's council chamber. It was even worse because that fear wasn't aimed at the council itself. It might have been better if he'd feared Siol outright. He could have found a way to crush them, force them to their knees right there in front of him. But what terrified Donchaba wasn't Siol's power—it was the fact that countless nations had passed through Siol before him. Among all the countries the marketeer had named, the general recognized only one. The rest? He'd never even heard of them.
The general was terrified of being forgotten like that. How many nations—and generals and warships pushed out from the center—had fled all the way to this distant frontier called Siol? And of those, how many had turned back? Who among them had survived that flight and reclaimed their territory? Siol, the frontier city in the west, was famous even on the central continent where he lived. An ancient city of the Esai who worshipped the sun as their god, reached by crossing oceans, forests, and plains. But no general had ever claimed to have secured their territory with their aid. That's why allying with them for supplies and troops had seemed like a brilliant, ingenious plan—until they arrived. It looked like an easy way to crush the rebels and the Urata Trade Confederation.
But now, Donchaba's heart was filled only with doubt, fear, and rage at that fear. That's why he'd dumped all their precious metals in Siol like desperate men, buying supplies and hiring mercenaries. I'm different. I'm not like those idiot generals before me. I'll go back. I'll reclaim it all. I'll be remembered as the leader who took back his land, the superhuman who returned.
"...I'll do it. No matter what."
Donchaba crushed the armrest of his chair, turning the humiliation and fear from Siol's council into self-delusion and fury. His eyes fixed on the airship rising through the clouds in the distance.
The observation officer's voice echoed across the bridge. "Enemy warship identified! Urata Trade Confederation!"
"General! Enemy battlewing squadrons are targeting the deck and cannons! We need to launch our squadrons!"
"Sector 32 armor fully breached! Sector 27 armor half-breached!"
Reports blared across the bridge. With his resolve hardened, Donchaba slammed the armrest and shot to his feet.
"Ambush without declaration of war! Honorless bastards! Deck chief, launch all flight squadrons immediately! Turn the bow to port! Defense control officer, activate localized shields—focus on the bridge, engines, and breached armor! All cannons except anti-air aim forward! Target that Urata ship!"
In the frantic bridge, Donchaba's eyes blazed.
*
"Didn't see this coming."
An air battle. Jin-cheol stared out the window at the enemy warship and swarming aircraft, dumbfounded. If all Lavitos fought from airships, dogfights were inevitable. He'd expected that much. But he hadn't thought it'd erupt before they even reached the East. His plan was to bail the second land came into view. Instead, enemy air warships had shown up early.
And the bigger problem? In an airship battle like this, a single mercenary could do jack shit. The blaring sirens and ship-shaking tremors felt less like combat and more like being dropped into a disaster zone.
Then, flames flashed around the approaching enemy warship. Smoke followed, then eerie silence. BOOM—the thunderous roar shook the hull. Another barrage from the enemy cannons.
"Aaaagh!"
"Help! Somebody help!"
"Keeek! Lightning! It's lightning—!"
The mercenaries plunged into panic. On the ground, they fought with guns and blades. He'd never seen this era's wars up close, but picturing noble Esai charging with swords gave him a rough idea. These mercs probably fought the same way. None had likely faced aerial combat or cannon fire. No one boarded expecting this.
And this was Jin-cheol's first air battle too. In the 21st century, air combat meant advanced jets—not massive airships trading broadsides and scrambling fighters. This was more like 3D naval warfare, where rifle-toting infantry like him could barely influence the field.
Then a chill raced up his spine again. Far worse than the threat on his bunk. Jin-cheol bolted for the barracks door, yelling, "Everyone out! Now—"
Blinding light, rainbow scatter, overwhelming shockwave. No time to activate his shield. His body tumbled like a giant had shaken him like soda and slammed him down. An eternity or an instant later, he realized he was buried under rubble.
"..."
He breathed steadily, assessing his body. Pain everywhere—whole body, limbs. Wiggling fingers and toes: all from thumb to pinky worked. Good. Nothing severed.
"Hup!"
He shoved off the debris pinning him—part of the ceiling, probably. The heavy steel plate lifted like paper. He flung it forward; it tumbled, then sailed into open air.
That "open air" left him staring blankly ahead. The barracks were wrecked. A gaping hole in the wall let gale-force winds howl through, sucking debris out. Flickering flames spewed smoke; sparking wires crackled.
Unlike the shattered interior, the sky beyond was vast, clouds rolling like hills to the horizon. Enemy fighters still buzzed above, the warship unmoving like a fixture in the heavens.
"Fuck... shoulda just taken a regular ship..."
Rushing for thirty days sooner, and he'd die thirty years early. Merc gig for free meals, ditch on landing—solid plan, backed by Ishanka, and this Zasoyeonbang alliance wouldn't last. But that was before the enemy airship.
"Here... help...!"
Snap out of it—voice nearby. He rushed over, flipping debris. A voice emerged from under a bunk and steel beam.
"Help... can't... get out...!"
"What? You?"
Dol Jumeok. The bald gorilla thrashed under rubble. Jin-cheol cleared it; he coughed and scrambled free.
"Hurk... never... heard of fights... like this... the others...?"
Jin-cheol wordlessly hurled debris. Metal chunks flew, revealing limbs, torsos, guts scattering into the sky.
Dol Jumeok shuddered. "All... them...?"
"Just us now."
Watching the debris scatter, Jin-cheol's eyes darkened. That shitty feeling revived—the cocktail of rage, futility, helplessness he'd thought obsolete in this era.
What did Siol's mercs expect boarding? He grabbed Dol Jumeok's collar. The Olrog's eyes were glazed.
"Hey. Snap out of it, asshole."
"Uh... yeah... uh..."
Slap. Jin-cheol backhanded him. Dol Jumeok's eyes refocused; he spat a broken tooth with a gag.
Staring at the molar rolling on his palm, he gaped at Jin-cheol.
"..."
"What? Had to wake you up."
"But my tooth..."
"Get a new one later. Kampoeni do silver ones."
Dol Jumeok escaped panic but plunged into new grief—toothless now. Jin-cheol raised his hand again.
"Wait! I'm good! No more hits!"
"Good. We need a way off this ship."
"What? Escape? How?"
BOOM-BOOM—thunder rocked the hull. Dol Jumeok convulsed to the deck; Jin-cheol headed for the new open balcony.
Peering out: hit higher up, not here. Incoming shells blocked by a shimmering blue barrier, exploding harmlessly. Like his arm shield scaled up a hundredfold.
"Fuck, why no shield here? Selective? Gotta see the shells to block?"
Shields only on key spots? Or manual? Either way, fucked—mercs in the lower decks weren't priority. Hence the new balcony, goddamn.
Back to Dol Jumeok. "Heard anything as barracks boss?"
"What? Heard what?"
"Evac plans. Escape pods."
Dol Jumeok lifted his head from prone. "None?"
Jin-cheol kicked him. "Bullshit! On a ship this size?!"
"True! Never told! Merc commander? Saw once!"
Planless idiots. Just meat shields fed for free? Jin-cheol laughed hollowly—too fucked for anything else.
Another rumble; ship shook. He checked the hole: Zasoyeonbang firing back. Fighters buzzed like flies, machine guns rattling; anti-air flak sprayed. Enemy ship sparked, holed, shields flashing.
A fighter skimmed the hole chasing another; pursuer whooshed past. Jin-cheol ducked; lead plane spiraled, wingless.
"Fuckin' insane. Stay here, we'll drown with the crashing ship."
He strode inward. Dol Jumeok, huddled, trailed anxiously.
"Where?"
"Corridor."
Sirens wailed; panicked mercs thrashed in tight halls, colliding. Jin-cheol scanned sharply, picked a direction.
Dol Jumeok caught up. "You know something?"
"Up. Steal a fighter, glide down."
No time for flight quals. Low decks lacked safety gear—why no other Lavitos?
Sirens, hits, cannon fire vibrated. Ship bucked. Massive explosion—whole hull lurched. Worse: grinding creeeak of twisting metal.
Hand on wall, listening: "This is bad."
Ships sink in sea. Airships?
"...Crash, fuck."
"Crashing? We're falling?!"
Dol Jumeok panicked. Jin-cheol grinned sweatily. "Looks fucked, huh? Follow close or die."
BOOM above; more grinding. Jin-cheol sprinted. Dol Jumeok followed, half-mad.
Ceiling tore behind, spewing fire and debris.
"Aaaagh!"
"Let me down! Land! Please!"
Panicked screams, rampaging mercs and Lavitos. Post-grind chaos: fires, steam, blasts inside. More hits. BOOM.
Dodging flames, turning a corner—froze. Port side collapsed, innards exposed.
Wind howling at edge, checking: chain explosions, soldiers and mercs plummeting alike. Siol supplies scattered. Clouds neared—really crashing.
"Helppp!"
Blast—section blew, people flung like toys amid debris, smoke. Enemy airship loomed, damaged but rising higher, toward the sun. Precise cannons fired. BOOM.
Jin-cheol gripped wall; steel crumpled like foil.
"Fuck, where?"
Upper decks intact—shields and thick armor. Found path: climb wreckage.
"Crazy! Where?!"
"Or fall with the ship!"
Furnace inside or climb—same risk.
"Tolkan...!"
Dol Jumeok followed. Ship fell slowly; fighters dogfought; cannons roared. Winds slashed eyes. Hit nearby—shake scattered more debris, people.
"Fuck! This real?!"
Climbing like rock wall, teeth gritted. Dol Jumeok below, trembling, hands white-knuckled on holds.
Reached upper ledge; dove in. Rolled, stood: wrecked officer quarters—wood bed, furniture, paintings mostly gone through hole. Lavito officer corpse sprawled, lower half missing.
Approached door—jammed, twisted. Backed up, kick—crumpled, fell.
Peered: Lavitos dashing corridor.
"W-wait..."
Dol Jumeok crawled up, pale, trailing.
BOOM; grind twist—death knell.
"Hear that? Don't wanna get caught? Hurry!"
Dol Jumeok gritted, followed.
Ran into Lavitos. "What?! Esai? Merc? Stop! No mercs up here!"
"Halt! Show papers—"
"Fuck off."
Palm-smacked blocker—squeak, down. Another dodged to wall, yelled back: "Intruders! Lower mercs up! Grab 'em!"
Soldiers blocked. Useless vs. giants.
"Ugh!" "Oof!" "Eek!"
Bowled over. Ladder up—hangar. Clunky monoplanes, tools scattered; open doors, fighters buzzing, guns chattering.
Hangar wrecked: flames, steam, torn doors—total loss.
Scanned fighters: none flyable. Wings snapped, buried.
"Fuck..."
"Hah... hek..."
Stunned. Then: "You! Halt!"
More Lavitos climbed. Jin-cheol incredulous: "Now? Escape first?!"
Fat leader flinched, drew saber. "Mercs stay below! You're under arrest!"
"Idiots! Ship's crashing!"
"Lies! Zasoyeonbang invincible! Charge! Seize traitors!"
Officers swung saber wildly; troops yelled, charged—with wrenches, hammers. No guns in panic.
"Morons..."
No time. Jin-cheol charged. Leader halted terrified; pileup behind, all tumbled.
Leapt over, somersaulted—springs in feet?—landed before officer.
"Gah!" Saber swung; Jin-cheol caught blade, palmed face. Crack—eyes rolled, knelt.
Saber in hand, folded like paper, tossed at troops.
"..."
They gawked—man, blade, officer—then screamed, scattered.