New Companions
"…"
Snow stared blankly at Jin-cheol, heedless of his pounding headache.
Scratching his head, Jin-cheol soon noticed her wordless gaze and opened his mouth.
"Uh… alright. No need to go into more details. I don't want to get any more tangled up in this. Anyway, it doesn't look like you're in any shape to head home and listen to your mom. But as a trade-off, I can pass a message to Ishanka for you. Got anything you want to say?"
"…A message?"
"I'm not here to drag you to Siol by force or haul you back to Ishanka. I've got my own business, and delivering a message is just a side gig along the way. So if there's something you want me to tell her exactly like that, I'll do it."
"…"
Her eyes dropped to the ground again.
Jin-cheol waited quietly for her response, but seeing that, he figured a quick answer was out of the question.
"Yeah, you might not have anything off the top of your head. Take your time to sort it out and let me know before we part ways. But one favor—keep it short if it's too long-winded, it'll get messy."
"…"
Snow gave a slight nod instead of answering.
Watching her, Jin-cheol was convinced once more. This girl's social skills are straight-up F-grade.
He'd put off the conversation for another reason. From beyond the camp, in the woods, came the rumble of engines—Dol Jumeok's truck appeared, followed by a swarm of military trucks that looked like they belonged to the revolutionaries.
As he approached waving his hand, Dol Jumeok pulled up in front of the camp and hopped out. He smirked at the sprawl of corpses behind Jin-cheol and the armored soldiers sitting in neat rows, stripped of their weapons.
"Knew it'd be like this. Monster."
"Monster? Who you calling a monster, you fuck? Wanna die?"
"…Tch, it's a compliment. Means you're strong like a monster."
Dol Jumeok's grinning face hardened. He averted his eyes, suddenly wary of the approaching Jin-cheol.
Jin-cheol did look a bit of a mess right now. Covered in splattered blood, dotted with small scars—already healing—and spewing gravelly curses from his mouth. Even a normal person would hesitate to get close, let alone this guy.
It was the moment Jin-cheol realized Dol Jumeok had some guts just bringing up "monster" in the first place.
In fact, the revolutionaries trailing behind wouldn't step forward at the sight of him.
But as Jin-cheol stepped aside and Snow approached again in her owl mask, they all rushed into the camp.
The revolutionary officer who'd asked Jin-cheol's name earlier approached him.
"…I've heard of that armor. Urata's strongest unit, the Ironclad Special Forces—they wear exactly that. Supposed to handle Rahman close protection or special ops only…"
"Looks like that friend of yours was the target of one of those special ops."
"Snow, the White Slaughterer… So you two took down this special forces unit alone? And hijacked two airships to boot?"
"The airship was that friend over there."
Jin-cheol shrugged toward Lamien, sitting alone off to the side.
Even so, the officer let out an impressed "Hoo…" and nodded to himself.
Once his revolutionaries grasped the rough situation, they promptly arrested the Ironclad soldiers.
Jin-cheol watched the commander Lavito get dragged off, still unconscious, then asked,
"How'll you handle them?"
"They shot up civilians in the woods, right? Old folks and kids too. With survivors you saved to testify, proving their guilt won't be hard. The commander's probably looking at hanging; the rest'll pay based on their crimes. Doesn't make sense they were even in Zasoyeonbang territory to begin with. The Kapitan's negotiating with Urata's general down south right now—Urata was supposed to pull all troops out in the meantime."
Kapitan. The Pig Doctor, Miguel, went by that.
So his business down south was this.
"South… Rostang?"
"A bit north of Rostang. Place called Baiseup. That's where the Kapitan and the revolutionaries are hammering out a treaty with Urata's delegation."
As the officer explained, Jin-cheol's mind churned.
If Lamien was right, the Muksaang House had been active in Rostang before. Then war broke out between Urata and Zasoyeonbang, turning it into a battlefield. The revolutionaries, absorbing Zasoyeonbang's influence, hadn't reclaimed it yet.
A massive ruin was being excavated there. They were rounding up able-bodied folks from Zasoyeonbang lands and forcing them to dig.
Putting together the clues he'd gathered: the "Amerika Arsenal Excavation Operation" in the east, Opesis mercenaries, Lamien's captured lover, suspicious movements the knight order Aiman belonged to had spotted in the east.
Jin-cheol sorted the flashing images.
The arsenal excavation was almost certainly Rostang's dig site.
Which meant the Muksaang House was behind it. From what he'd seen, they were either the Forgotten Empire's lackeys or outright enemies.
Correction: lackeys who didn't even know they were lackeys.
At least, thinking of Gugban from Siol's underground prison.
Urata Federation or whatever was under their sway too. Starting a war to seize Rostang from Zasoyeonbang, then using the locals as slave labor.
Tying it all together?
Rostang was a demon den right now, and Opesis mercenaries were very likely there.
Which meant humans were there.
Humans like Jin-cheol, excavating an ancient site—an old U.S. military relic on Earth.
And if they were Forgotten Empire descendants, their motives were probably impure as hell.
"…Humans, right?"
If Jindallae was accurate, they were psychos in human skins. But who knew.
The Forgotten Empire fell about four or five thousand years ago. Descendants might've mellowed out by now.
Slim chance, given the Muksaang House's antics.
Anyway, Jin-cheol's next stop was clear: Rostang. Zasoyeonbang's south, Urata's north.
As he mulled it over, Lamien tugged at his pants.
Turning, she said,
"I'm going after Epani."
"…To Rostang?"
She nodded. Her chubby finger pointed to one side of the camp—the airship.
Yeah, faster than riding motorcycles.
Jin-cheol glanced sideways. Dol Jumeok, squatting by an Olrog Ironclad corpse and fiddling with it, looked up at his gaze.
"Pay me, and I'll keep going."
His eyes shifted to Maro in the truck bed, soothing the baby. The kid just shrugged at Jin-cheol's look, no words needed.
Sticking with them, obviously. Guy's like a ghost—there but not there, all the way.
Feeling a presence, Jin-cheol whipped around. The owl mask was right there.
"Got a message for Ishanka?"
"…No."
"Huh? Then what?"
"Have to save the captives. The villagers I've been looking for… they're probably there too."
Jin-cheol blanked for a second before getting it.
"Oh, you wanna come with? Us?"
"…"
Nod instead of words. Would've gotten her drill sergeant'd in the army.
Anyway, Jin-cheol looked to the group for approval.
But Lamien stared into the distance, picturing her lover; Dol Jumeok kept looting the dead Olrog; Maro was baby-focused.
No one cared who joined or left.
"…Fine. Come along. You're good in a fight. More fighters the better…"
And just like that, Snow joined the crew in a hazy sort of way.
The officer was shocked but touched by her tracking the captives to help.
"It's our job really… Shame is, if we pull out of Solka-in now, it'll turn into total lawless hell. Anything we can do?"
"That airship. Give me one, and cough up some weapons and supplies."
"For just that? Deal."
He'd also radio the Kapitan—Pig Doctor—about the incident. Might screw the negotiations, but the Kapitan would make the smart call.
They loaded ammo from the airship, revolutionary supplies, Dol Jumeok's truck, and Jin-cheol's bike. Ready to roll.
But the group didn't leave right away. They headed back to Solka-in, to the revolutionaries' field hospital.
And met Mrs. Witkay again.
"Mrs. Witkay."
"Ah, Lamien! Did you find Epani?"
"No. She wasn't there."
"What? Then… don't tell me…"
Lamien shook her head.
"She's alive. Just headed farther. Ma'am… sorry to ask this when you're hurting, but I have a favor."
"A favor…?"
Lamien looked at Maro. He approached Mrs. Witkay with a face dripping regret and sorrow, showing her the baby.
Seeing it, her ears drooped back, hands trembling faintly.
"…A baby. In this ruined city… such a tiny life surviving…"
Her shaky hand caressed the baby's cheek and nose, then jerked back in shock.
"Th-the mother…?"
"…"
Lamien shook her head again.
Mrs. Witkay sighed "Aah…" tears streaming as she took the baby. She hugged it gently, sobbing quietly.
"But this baby survived… alive. So many died in this city, too many… but this one… still alive…"
"Sorry, ma'am. Asking more when you're already suffering…"
She shook her head.
"No. Thank you, Lamien. Truly. From the heart…"
Tears flowed, but she wouldn't let go. The baby, eyes still closed, snuffled, lifted its chin to her scent, and nuzzled into her chest.
"…Sniff."
A bit away, watching, Jin-cheol turned at a sniffle beside him.
The officer was snot-nosed and teary.
Jin-cheol said,
"Airship means easier supply runs from other areas now, right?"
"Yes. So you all… you're Solka-in's saviors."
"Thanks? Then look after that lady a bit more."
The officer nodded eagerly at Jin-cheol.
"Yes. In the name of the Hijacker, consider it done."
"…"
Too late to correct his name now. Not the best rep anyway.
Glancing back, he caught a tiny sniff from the owl mask a ways behind. She flicked her gaze away as he looked.
Business done, the group left Solka-in again. This time, toward the airship moored outside.
On the way, Jin-cheol said to Maro,
"You sure you don't wanna stay? Lady seemed nice."
"Huh? Why? I'm gar's kid now."
"…What?"
Her matter-of-fact tone left Jin-cheol dumbfounded; he eyed Dol Jumeok.
Same expression—totally normal.
"Maro's gar's kid. Gotta go together."
"What's a gar kid?"
"Gar kid's a gar kid, what else?"
"…"
Jin-cheol silently raised a fist; Dol Jumeok sped up.
"Gar means family. Gar kid means family kid. Even if gar breaks someday, Maro's gar now. Gotta learn to live together till then. Maro ain't learned enough yet. Needs more."
"…Fine, kid. Explain like that from the start."
Jin-cheol boarded the airship, let Maro on too.
Everyone aboard and lifting off took no time: Jin-cheol, Lamien, Dol Jumeok, Maro, Snow.
Different races, different stories— all in one boat.
Lamien pulled the yoke in the cockpit; the airship rose.
Leaving Solka-in behind, it flew southwest under the starry night sky.
The next day, their airship crossed vast plains under the sky.
No one but Lamien in the pilot seat had much to do; watching the empty controls while she slept was the highlight.
Even that, with auto-pilot-ish functions, was just sitting by her in case of trouble.
At the complex panel that'd briefly dizzied Jin-cheol, Lamien fiddled with yoke, buttons, toggles, levers, dials.
They'd rotated sleep, but her eyes were tired.
In the co-pilot seat, Jin-cheol eyed the bloodshot gaze.
"Why not sleep more?"
"Hm? Me?"
Turning with a soft smile.
"Nah. Gotta watch the yoke. Anything can happen mid-flight. Birds, gusts."
Smiling sweetly, but behind it loomed massive anxiety and fear.
Worried she was already too late.
Maybe why she couldn't leave the seat.
"You slept there too."
"Gotta react fast if something happens. Pilots only leave when the ship's down."
Suddenly recalling something, Lamien chuckled.
"What?"
"Just… remembered first meeting you."
"Battlewing crash?"
"Yeah. Barely ditched in the sea, but belt stuck—thought I was done. Should've carried a knife."
Struggling in the sinking Battlewing, she'd pulled a pistol in shock when Jin-cheol approached.
He chuckled too, remembering.
"Your paddle skills sucked."
A random interjection. Dol Jumeok.
Hands full of bowls topped with thick glop—breakfast, probably.
Jin-cheol took his; Lamien said,
"I always think about it gratefully. Without you two, I'd have drowned in that Battlewing. Donchaba would've called it a soldier's death…"
"We ain't Donchaba. No reason to die like that, our eyes."
Lamien eyed Dol Jumeok surprised; Jin-cheol spooned stew, snickering.
Mr. "Useless, ditch her" had seen her as emergency rations once.
"…Yeah. That's why I'm here."
"Lucky we passed by."
"Yeah… lucky… Thanks to you, I can go save Epani."
Dol Jumeok beamed, proud of his "wise" words.
Jin-cheol nearly spat his food.
That reckless gorilla's proud mug stiffened.
"What's that?"
"…?"
Lamien followed his gaze forward. Jin-cheol looked up from his stew—three black dots far in the sky.
"That's…"
Lamien yanked down a periscope from above the cockpit, face to it.
Around then, Jin-cheol's focused eyes identified them.
"…Battlewings."
"Urata's Battlewings…"
Battlewings. Lavito fighters. Looked like early monoplanes sans propellers, crammed with guns—but peak Lavito tech, deadly air weapons.
And they were heading straight here.
That they targeted this airship was clear moments later—from the drrrrt of incoming bullets.