The General's Surrender
Looking up from below, a dark shadow fell across Jin-cheol's face. Rahiman stared at it, growing increasingly terrified as some memory surfaced in his mind—until he blurted out something even Jin-cheol hadn't expected.
"...Surrender. I surrender."
"What?"
"I surrender! Take me prisoner! Treat me like a prisoner of war!"
His voice exploded like a scream, leaving even Jin-cheol momentarily speechless and dumbfounded. The bridge, rife with gunfire and clashing blades, slowly fell silent as the fighting ground to a halt. Aiman, Snow, Haeta, and the Lavito officers who had been fighting for Rahiman all gawked at him in stunned disbelief.
With every eye on the bridge now fixed on him, Rahiman bellowed again.
"I surrender! For real! So guarantee my safety, my life, under the Zasoyeonbang-Urata treaty!"
"...I'm not Zasoyeonbang. Zasoyeonbang ended when Donchaba died."
"The revolutionaries inherited Zasoyeonbang's lands anyway! You're the ones representing Zasoyeonbang's territory and people now! That means you've inherited their treaties too! I'm surrendering, so you have to guarantee my life under the treaty..."
Flames ignited in Jin-cheol's previously blank eyes. For the first time since arriving in this era, he felt genuine murderous intent as he seized Rahiman's throat. A choked gasp escaped Rahiman as his body was hoisted up by that grip.
Jin-cheol glared into Rahiman's eyes with a gaze like roaring flames and growled low.
"Hundreds of Lavitos must've died since your first shot, at least. You're the bastard who sent them all to their deaths, but now that it's your turn, you're spouting that bullshit?"
"Kkh..."
Jin-cheol's grip tightened. Reason and rage clashed violently in his mind, heating his skull like a furnace. In that moment, he was in the 121st century—and back in the 21st. The general in his grasp wore the face of the Lavito rabbit-folk, overlaid with the faces of those who had ignited war in his own time.
Rahiman's neck began to constrict like it was caught in a hydraulic press. His face turned ashen as blood and air to his brain were cut off.
"Jin-cheol!"
Haeta's call snapped only his eyes toward her. She rushed over, continuing urgently.
"Not yet! We need him alive to stop their war!"
"..."
He knew what she meant. In Lavito nations, a general was the ultimate authority—and bore responsibility for every atrocity committed. Snapping this one's neck here might satisfy Jin-cheol, but it would drag out the war between the revolutionaries and Urata. Not just this battle, but every front where the top command vanished.
People who could have lived would die.
"...Surrender. Yeah, surrender sounds good."
Jin-cheol slowly released his grip. Rahiman slumped, gasping desperately for air. But Jin-cheol allowed no respite. In the next instant, he yanked Rahiman by the scruff and slammed his face into the forward console.
"Eek!"
"No time for breaks. Grab a mic and broadcast your surrender to the whole damn ship. Contact the revolutionaries too."
"W-wait, I need a moment to... prepare mentally..."
Jin-cheol's fingers tightened again. Rahiman shuddered at the pressure on his skull, sensing his head would crush like cake if Jin-cheol squeezed harder.
"Cut the bullshit. Do it now."
"I-I'll do it! Right now! Eek!"
Rahiman scrambled for the funnel-shaped mic on his throne and broadcast to the entire ship: cease all hostilities, disarm, unconditional surrender, and so on. The message reached the revolutionaries too, met with bewildered silence on the other end.
At least it worked—both sides' cannons fell silent. Urata's salvos stopped, as did the revolutionaries' guerrilla strikes darting from all directions.
Finally, a response crackled through.
Rahiman slumped in exhaustion. The surviving Lavito officers on the bridge reacted differently: some with hollow despair, others bafflement, and some with eyes blazing fury.
That fury split two ways—toward Rahiman, and toward Jin-cheol.
Jin-cheol met it all with a stoic gaze. He understood the rage at Rahiman, and even at himself. These rabbit-folk were too damn human-like. So they'd inherited humanity's self-deceptions too—the cowardice of dodging their idols' truths by lashing out at outsiders. Truly, they'd cherry-picked the worst human traits.
Another transmission followed.
Jin-cheol's grip finally relaxed. He straightened from pressing down on Rahiman's head, sighing faintly as he trudged to a dim corner of the command deck. Without a care who watched, he slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.
Haeta started toward him, but Aiman held her back, shaking his head gravely.
Even as revolutionaries poured onto the bridge—even after Pig Doctor Miguel and the leadership entered—Jin-cheol remained slumped in the corner, blankly staring at the deck plating. The endless grid of welded steel plates held his gaze in silence.
After ordering Rahiman and the officers taken into custody and technicians to inspect the ship, Miguel glanced at Jin-cheol and turned to the others.
"What happened?"
"...I don't know exactly. Probably tied to his personal history."
Aiman stated it bluntly. Miguel blinked, pondering as he watched Jin-cheol a moment longer before turning away.
"Comintern will interrogate Rahiman. In one hour. You, Pastel, and—if you want—the four who seized the ship and Battle Wing pilot Lamien can join. Pass it on."
"...That Zasoyeonbang pilot?"
One officer asked dubiously. Miguel lifted his chin.
"She was the star of the air battle. Downed six enemy fighters, then covered allies at risk to herself even after running dry on ammo. She's qualified, in my book."
"...Understood. I'll inform Pilot Lamien."
The officer replied, but his face said otherwise. Elevating a newcomer who'd joined just that morning—when she wasn't even originally revolutionary—seemed off to him. And to Miguel, leading despite such discontent, it was odd too.
But instead of explaining further, Miguel simply left.
As revolutionaries and soldiers tidied the bridge, they whispered about Jin-cheol, slumped with arms on knees, staring at the floor.
"...That's the Hijacker?"
"Crossed the ocean from the western continent. Massive bounty there too."
"For real?"
"Word is he hijacked tons of airships there too. Stole anything that flies. Ran out of targets, so he came east. No more ships worth taking, so he went after generals' battleships."
"...Holy shit. How'd the Kapitan recruit a criminal like that?"
"Mutual interests. A lunatic who wants battleships and a Kapitan flipping the world—strange deal."
"Are all Esai that terrifying?"
"Average on the western continent, they say."
Crazy rabbit shits. I can hear you all.
Jin-cheol buried his face in his knees and chuckled. What rumor-mongering. Suddenly a world-class hijacking criminal in cahoots with Kapitan Miguel. He rubbed his eyes, snickering. The tale would snowball beyond control now. He'd actually hijacked an Urata battleship—and captured General Rahiman himself. One western merc taking a nation's leader and strategic weapon? Legends were born from less.
That sparked a thought: Miguel owed him for this ship. Sure, Jin-cheol was leaving soon—cash would just weigh him down—but his friends, especially Lamien, Dol Jumeok, Maro, were settling here. He'd never asked Dol Jumeok, but still.
Lifting his head, he saw four figures around him. Haeta, ass on the floor with chin on knees, beamed as he looked up. Lamien sprawled wearily on a commandeered chair; Aiman sat hugging his staff. Maskless Snow leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing the Lavitos.
"Feeling better now?"
Haeta asked. Jin-cheol snorted a laugh.
"What're you all doing here?"
"What else? Didn't you hear? Pig Doc invited us to the Urata general's interrogation. Waiting for you to go together."
"Waiting for me?"
Haeta nodded at his surprise. Aiman shrugged; Lamien and Snow said nothing. Jin-cheol stood.
"Fine... better than moping. Let's go. War's over—what more they digging for?"
"Maybe surrender documents?"
"Wouldn't call it an interrogation then."
Jin-cheol and his group left the bridge, traversing the now-quiet ship. Spaces they'd sprinted through amid chaos were hushed. Armed revolutionaries escorted disarmed Urata troops past, but no more explosions rocked the hull.
Urata soldiers looked glum and depressed. Their escorts weren't cheerful either—half-dazed themselves. Natural, after blasting each other then a sudden surrender from one boss. Confusion reigned on both sides.
Mechanics fixing the ship focused on the now, dashing with tools heedless of the shock.
As some Lavito troops passed, Lamien tugged Jin-cheol's sleeve from behind. He turned; she whispered.
"Hey, why'd the Pig Doc call me?"
"Why?"
Glancing at the others, she pressed on quietly.
"Why include me in Rahiman's interrogation? You guys seized the ship and forced his surrender—makes sense. But I'm just a Battle Wing pilot."
"Impressed by your performance, I guess."
Lamien tilted her head at Jin-cheol's half-hearted reply.
"Enough to invite me here...?"
"I get the worry. He called, so let's go. If there's more, he'll say."
The others had overheard the whispers. Aiman cut in; Lamien mumbled awkwardly and fell silent. She seemed more uneasy around Kampoeni Aiman, who resembled Lavitos more than the Esai.
Comintern and the Urata ship floated belly-to-belly in the sky, linked by six precarious cloud-bridges like seafaring vessels meeting. Amid bustling Lavitos crossing, Jin-cheol's group followed.
Haeta lagged, legs shaky, but they soon boarded Comintern.
Crew led them deep inside. Comintern felt worn compared to Urata or old Donchaba ships: exposed pipelines snaked the ceiling, patched spots obvious. Gauges and valves dotted passages, narrow enough that Aiman and Lamien fit fine, Haeta and Snow barely, and Jin-cheol half-crouched.
Reminded him of waking in Atukai's tribe—Kampoeni homes too small for his height.
Ah, Tobi. You doing okay?
Deep into the ship's bowels, they reached a cramped room.
"You're here."
Miguel, already waiting, greeted Jin-cheol. Nodding, he entered; a larger inner room lay beyond—a perfect interrogation chamber. Bare save tables and chairs; Rahiman sat at one, somewhat tidied up.
A narrow slit window let them peer in.
"Just you and me inside. Others watch from here—call if needed."
"...?"
Jin-cheol tilted his head—why pick him specifically? He wasn't great at interrogations. Not smashing the guy's skull in would be success enough.
Figuring Miguel had reasons, he followed. Rahiman, bound and feigning calm, paled as Jin-cheol appeared behind Miguel—like prey cornered with its predator.
They sat opposite. After a silent beat, Miguel opened with accusation.
"Fool. What possessed you to break the peace treaty? What did you hope to gain from this half-assed sneak attack?"
Rahiman's face twisted. He snorted as if to retort, glanced warily at Jin-cheol, then deflated.
"...As a prisoner, I demand proper treatment."
"Want proper treatment? Answer our questions honestly from now on."
Rahiman nodded. Miguel eyed him pityingly before continuing.
"First off—were those words sincere earlier? Why today, of all days—and with no ground forces, just the ship for a raid? Thanks to Jin-cheol and the others, casualties stayed low. But if you'd fought to the end, you'd have lost—you and your ship. You knew that."
"...No choice."
"No choice?"
Rahiman's gaze dropped. Staring at the table, he began trembling faintly. Jin-cheol and Miguel watched puzzled as it intensified.
"...From Rostang's depths, the deep underground world—horrific beasts poured out. Ground forces were annihilated by them."
"What the—horrific beasts? What nonsense is this..."
"Those eyeless white beasts crawl from underground at night, snatching soldiers and laborers alike. It took three days to shatter Urata's elite infantry division..."
Rahiman looked up. No more feigned composure—just haggard fear and broken will. Yet a faint smile twisted his lips—absurdity and madness mingled.
From that smiling mouth spilled ravings.
"But know what's worse? Those evil beasts, the eyeless white monsters—they look just like us Lavitos. Not Esai, Kampoeni, Olrog, or Baika. Us. The 'emissary' said they must be our brothers... That's when I realized. To the emissary, I'm no different from those beasts... Once this ended, he'd dispose of me too... So I fled. To crush you revolutionaries and rebuild on Zasoyeonbang soil, to escape those white monsters and the emissary's grasp..."