The Dreamer Who Scatters Red Blood - 7
In the beginning, when the continent was made, there was neither high nor low upon it.
When humans were made upon the continent, there were none who commanded and none who were commanded.
When the empire of humans was founded, the first emperor was a commoner known as Red Blood.
Therefore red is the center of the world. What rules now is only the chaos of mutants—blue mutants suppressing the red, and nothing more.
Someday red shall rise. The world shall return to its rightful course.
"It seems the time is right."
And the hour had come to take that great step.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, Commander."
The firm nod carried deep conviction, as if there would be no tomorrow if they did not move now.
Mid-level cadre Robin. An operative who had infiltrated the Academy years ago—a comrade supporting Comrade Eriko in spreading the correct ideology.
If Comrade Robin said so, it could be trusted. He had always been cautious; he was the one who had opposed every prior proposal from senior and mid-level cadres to strike the Academy.
"After the Anti-Resistance Campaign, there are no major events left. There is no longer any need to keep security concentrated."
Which meant the massed forces would loosen, making infiltration easier. It was a persuasive point, so the leader listened in silence.
Of course, "relatively loose" was relative; Academy security remained tight. But the fact that it had thinned at all was what mattered.
A complete vacuum in Academy security would be ideal. But if they waited only for such luck, they would never raise a wave.
"And for the time being, I have been assigned to the western gate."
"As expected of Comrade Robin. Outstanding."
An encouraging report; a smile rose of its own accord.
Sending Robin into the Academy had been a reckless gamble—dispatching a key cadre alone into enemy territory, and losing the use of his mind for an infiltration of unknown duration.
Yet the gamble had paid off. The road to the Academy was open.
"I have also confirmed a good route for concealment."
Lifting a map, Comrade Robin traced the path from their hideout to the Academy's western gate, point by point.
Excellent.
Satisfaction welled at the thorough preparation. Adjustments would be needed depending on the situation and scale, but with a framework like this, operations would be far easier.
"We can make our final preparations in this forest."
After a long explanation, Comrade Robin indicated a wood near the Academy.
A solid choice. Spacious enough for the comrades to ready themselves, and ideally placed for an immediate strike on the Academy.
"Well done, Comrade Robin. Thanks to you, we draw closer to the Cause."
"You flatter me."
Watching him bow humbly only deepened the satisfaction.
Comrades like this sharing the same ideal—was that not proof they walked the right path, proof that heaven itself had chosen them?
"Next time, let us meet in person rather than through a communication orb."
"Yes, Commander. I will be waiting."
Next time there would be no need for such contact. The leader would go to the Academy in person and commend Comrade Robin face to face.
"Until the Red Wave soaks the earth."
Before cutting the line, the final greeting—a slogan to fire the comrades' zeal and recall the Cause once more.
"Until the Red Wave soaks the earth."
Comrade Robin's face flushed, as if his chest were full to bursting.
What a cringy slogan. Who even came up with that?
"May the light of the Great Emperor be with us."
The Empire's official motto flashed through my mind for a second. We were in no position to talk.
"It's finished."
Robin, still holding the communication orb, spoke carefully. I politely pretended not to notice his red face. I'd have been embarrassed too if I'd had to recite that slogan in front of other people.
I gave a nod and a thumbs-up to the mortified, tightly wound Robin. His face brightened at once.
He'd been that tense, huh. Given the situation, I understood.
Not just anyone can pull off being a double agent.
Even ordinary spying isn't for just anyone, and double agents are another level entirely. Twice the hardship, twice the pressure. Not exactly the kind of double event anyone would envy.
"The commander says he'll come in person. And once the commander moves, the senior cadres will attach themselves without fail."
"A fine opportunity."
Best possible outcome. I'd half expected him to toss out a single mid-level cadre and go dark himself, but apparently he was bold enough to bring the whole pack.
Idiot.
The type who'd go all-in at the gambling table. They say courage and recklessness are separated by a single sheet of paper.
From our side, though, it made no difference either way. Sweep up the commander and the senior cadres, and who cared about anyone below them? If the division and regiment commanders were dead, a few remaining battalion commanders wouldn't matter.
"So we just wait."
When I looked at the map, Robin hurriedly spread it out and turned it toward me.
Knowing he had defected completely to our side, I almost felt sorry for him. Sharp mind, quick on his feet. He would have done well as a civil servant—why did he have to button the first button wrong?
"Looks like I'll die without ever getting a proper tour of the Academy."
"Probably."
While pity for Robin was still rising, the 1st Division Chief, who had turned her gaze to the map with me, murmured as if humming to herself.
I looked at the map—more precisely, at the forest Robin had last pointed out. If anyone managed to punch through that wood and reach the Academy, that would be impressive in its own right.
"Anyone who can break through there deserves recognition."
A nameless forest—and at the same time, a demon realm where Mukgwangdae was currently garrisoned in real time.
If someone managed to flee through the woods under Mukgwangdae's assault, I'd have to tip my hat. Using that kind of skill for treason was infuriating, but I could at least give them a round of applause.
After that, of course, I'd chase them down and kill them.
"Let's go."
I tapped the 1st Division Chief on the back and started walking. Honestly, the 4th Division Chief would handle it fine even if the Red Wave appeared out of nowhere—but giving a heads-up was only polite.
"Again today…?"
She looked at me with pure dread.
"You could just say it over the communication orb."
"Then I couldn't bring them food."
I was going to deliver it anyway; might as well talk while I was there.
Back when I was still the senior team leader of the 4th Division rather than the vice-commander of Mukgwangdae, the Director used to say something.
"When something good happens, something bad follows—and when something bad happens, something good comes right after."
Correct. Everything the Director said was always correct.
Through war, or through the poverty we were born into, we had lived the worst lives imaginable; we could not sink any lower. Then the Director took us in and gave us new lives. A classic case of good covering over bad.
But after good things, bad things also arrived. We were stripped of the name "4th Division" and transferred to the Ministry of Special Affairs. Separated from the very person who had given us our new lives—how terrible was that?
Still, we endured. Holding onto the hope that good would come again. Holding onto the faith that we would return to the Director's side once more.
…Why was I suddenly thinking about all that, though?
"Here. Brought today's as well."
"Thank you, Director."
Watching the commander bow his head to the Director up ahead, I understood.
Ah. That was why.
"It's going to pile up again today."
"Something that big won't even fit."
I found myself nodding along to the whispered conversation of the operatives beside me.
The moment we began garrisoning the forest, the Director had come to visit every single day. An overwhelming, deeply grateful thing. We were the ones who ought to have been hosting him, yet every time he arrived with both hands full.
Yes. Every time. Both hands. Completely full.
"You lot eat half-heartedly during operations. At least eat this."
As the Director said, we tended to make do with light meals during operations. Too full a stomach interfered with movement; it couldn't be helped.
We had run so many ops that light eating had become habit—but how could we refuse a gift from the Director?
"There's a lot."
"If we ration it, this could last a few days, no?"
"It's from the Director. Don't leave any."
A few days' worth, sure, but if we set it aside and it spoiled, what a waste. So for that one day we forced ourselves past our stomach capacity and ate—
"Today's portion."
I realized something was wrong starting the next day.
Guys who usually ate little had opened their stomachs for a single day and barely finished it all. And then the exact same amount arrived again.
"……."
"…What do we do?"
A serious discussion broke out around the mountain of food. One day was one thing; eating this much two days in a row was impossible. And judging by the atmosphere, it looked set to continue for a third and fourth day.
Leave leftovers? Dare to neglect a gift from the Director?
Refuse, then? Which insolent bastard was going to say that to the Director's face?
"Eat."
In the end there was only one answer. Starting with the commander, one by one we sank into our seats and choked on the Director's overflowing affection.
And the next day—
"Everyone's eating well. Not short on anything, right?"
"No, sir. We're fine."
The day after that—
"Looked like it might not be enough, so I brought more today."
"Thank you."
We learned our limit was roughly four days.
"…Anyone still hungry?"
"Vice-Commander, perhaps you should set an example…"
Even the operatives who had been eating on pure spite began quietly looking away.
The commander himself couldn't say a word. The same man who had kept his hands moving without pause was now chewing and swallowing as slowly as humanly possible.
When something good happens, something bad also…
Being able to help the Director was good. Wonderful, even. But this particular trial was not so wonderful.
And even Enen seemed to decide enough was enough.
"They'll be here soon."
At those words, every operative's gaze snapped to the Director as one.
"The force includes the commander and the senior cadres. Deal with all of them. Capture alive if you can."
He added that killing them was fine as long as we didn't let any slip—but honestly, those words barely registered.
The Red Wave was coming. Once we caught them, the mission would end. Then, regrettably, we would part from the Director—but at least we would get time to digest.
Those bastards.
Thinking about it, this was their fault from the start. They had to go and target the place where the Director was staying, and that was how we ended up in this mess.
Rage surged. I hated these traitors for forcing a trial we never needed to endure. The other operatives were probably thinking the same.
Catch every last one of them and hand them over to the 1st Division Chief. You sons of bitches—go taste hellfire.