The Destroyed Gate
The foundation of the space age was, naturally, Gate technology.
Thanks to these gates, humanity could traverse vast distances across the universe in mere moments.
Moreover, this Gate technology was currently monopolized by a single individual—no nation possessed it.
"The gates will be managed by my company."
Dr. Space, the genius who invented the technology, was the sole owner of every Gate in the universe.
For one person to wield such immense power at their whim was ordinarily impossible.
"Don't like it? Then don't use them."
Yet no ruler dared to challenge Dr. Space.
It wasn't out of respect or reverence for him as humanity's light and future.
"By the way, anyone who picks a fight with me should give up on dreams of immortality. That's one thing I can promise you for sure."
Most of the technology humanity enjoyed today—especially advancements in longevity and disease treatment—was accessible only through Dr. Space.
Thus, no leader dared touch him.
Beyond that, from a perspective of cosmic peace, no single nation owning the gates was ideal.
There were plenty of historical precedents.
Just look at the Suez Canal—wars had erupted over its ownership multiple times.
Better for an untouchable, transcendent figure beyond any ruler's reach to control them. It benefited everyone.
Of course, that always led to the inevitable question.
"You think I'll favor Korea because I'm Korean?"
Questions about Dr. Space's nationality.
"I doubt there's anyone who hates Korean politicians more than I do."
But it had never become an issue.
In any case, the gates belonged to Dr. Space, and he imposed a few conditions for their use.
One was that all nations using them must prioritize Gate maintenance and repairs.
No one argued.
What if a Gate was destroyed after crossing it?
It was like the river you'd just forded turning into the River Styx.
Those who'd crossed had no choice but to defend it with everything they had.
Thanks to that, gates had occasionally glitched or gone offline briefly, but none had ever been destroyed.
"The Gate has been destroyed?"
But now, for Kim Seo-jun, that unprecedented event in human history had occurred.
And it happened before even a day had passed since his reenlistment.
Even Kim Seo-jun, who'd seen it all in his active-duty days, couldn't hide his disbelief.
At least he stayed calm.
"S-Sergeant Kim, Sergeant Kim, what do we do?"
Private Park Bo-seop, who'd brought the news, was already a blubbering mess in full panic mode.
That was normal.
"The major? Oh, she's over there."
Major Lee Hye-na's expression, sitting in the cramped bunker, was grim too.
Even she—a psyker who'd faced countless disasters and been dispatched here to hunt a Queen—stared blankly at this unimaginable catastrophe.
Seeing her like that snapped Kim Seo-jun to attention.
'If I lose it, we're done for.'
In a situation where even a psyker was shell-shocked, someone had to step up and speak.
'I have to get back to Earth. I didn't reenlist to die here.'
Above all, Kim Seo-jun had a clear reason to return to Earth.
With that, he slapped both cheeks hard.
Crack!
The sharp sound made flesh tremble; Major Lee Hye-na and Private Park Bo-seop jumped and stared.
Face flushed red, Kim Seo-jun said to them, "Let's sort out the situation first. Major Lee Hye-na, how did you hear about the Gate's destruction?"
"Well..."
She turned to the radio in the bunker.
"By the time we reached this bunker, the news had already come through."
Kim Seo-jun pieced it together instantly.
"They must've broadcast it to every comms-capable spot when the Gate went down."
"What do you think destroyed it?"
To her follow-up, he replied, "Best not to dwell on that."
"Not dwell on it?"
"Whatever it was—Mogs, some army, or an accident—it's beyond our control. We don't even have a headquarters anymore."
Major Lee Hye-na nodded.
"What we need to predict is what comes next."
Kim Seo-jun held up two fingers.
"Two immediate scenarios. First, no off-planet support anytime soon. Everything in space is tied up with Gate maintenance or the war."
Their faces hardened further; he continued.
"Second, Amotia Planet is now an apocalypse."
"Apocalypse?"
"Yeah. Like in those apocalypse novels—survivors fighting each other to stay alive."
More puzzlement than fear; they grasped the dire straits, but "apocalypse" felt off.
Not by Kim Seo-jun's standards.
"Think about it. Mogs are everywhere here, and no external aid. When supplies run low, what then?"
To him, humans were now scarier than Mogs.
"Plus, the Korean branch on Amotia ranks outside the top 50 in size and power among 81 nations here. No HQ means no nation. We're prime looting targets."
No one questioned him after that explanation.
Reading their faces, he summed up.
"Bottom line: Anything with a Korean flag is top priority for raiders. Secure what we can before they hit."
That was when Major Lee Hye-na spoke.
"When I arrived at HQ wounded, I requested extra gear from National Power Resources. Designated delivery to the mission zone, not HQ, for the op. Should be there now."
"Psyker-specific gear?"
"Yes."
Without hesitation, Kim Seo-jun said, "Private Park Bo-seop, fire her up."
Vroooom!
The military truck roared across the wasteland; inside sat the three.
Kim Seo-jun's group.
They'd bolted the moment Major Lee Hye-na mentioned it.
No reason to hesitate.
'A psyker in dedicated gear is on another level.'
Lee Hye-na had shredded Mogdogs with just a Battle Suit and engineer axe—what if properly armed?
Psyker weapons were overwhelmingly superior; ordinary troops could only dream of them.
Special reinforced rounds? Jokes flew about one shot sending a Space Marine flying.
This was priority one.
Adjusting his condition in the cargo bed alone, Kim Seo-jun muted his mic.
'Stamina's tanking.'
Steam Pack aftermath wrecked him most—dragging fatigue clouded his head.
Especially now.
Good condition would be weirder.
'Once it starts sagging, it's a bottomless pit.'
So he distracted himself—and pulled it up.
"Status Window."
You have purchased and used 9 Bronze Tickets.
Mana +3
Stamina +5
Strength +1
Results were solid; Kim Seo-jun was pleased.
No jackpots, but he couldn't lose—anything was profit.
And these weren't bad.
'Stamina's a godsend.'
Five points in stamina? He felt it.
To wield his power, nothing beat stamina.
Plus, two Gold Tickets left.
"Use Gold Tickets. Both."
Stamina obtained from Gold Ticket! Current Stamina is below 30 points. Stat bonus applied. Stamina +10 points.
Hawk Eye (F)
Kim Seo-jun's eyes widened at the stamina haul.
'Jackpot.'
In combat, stamina trumped most skills or talents.
"What?"
But the next reward made him blurt it out.
"Hawk Eye?"
Rank: F
Enhances vision and field of view when activated. Effect increases with rank.
Speechless, he looked up.
And saw.
'...My God.'
A distant rock, invisible moments ago, now crystal clear.
Like binoculars.
'Vision at least 3.0? Is this real?'
Incredible.
But more shocking: it was a talent, not a skill.
Permanent.
Upgradable—potentially beyond this.
5.0? 7.0 vision?
Not eyes anymore—a weapon itself.
And crucially, Kim Seo-jun had it.
Whoosh!
He raised his rifle; red light gleamed from the barrel.
He closed his eyes quietly.
No joy.
'Thank God.'
Just relief—a lifeline in this hell.
'Somehow, I'll get back.'
He plotted furiously.
But it was for naught.
"There it is!"
Two hours twenty-two minutes from the bunker, they arrived—and saw.
"Huh? Nothing here?"
"Nothing here?"
Thud!
Before Private Park Bo-seop finished, Major Lee Hye-na leaped from the passenger seat to the coordinates.
She scanned around.
"Huff, huff, huff."
Her breaths heavier than usual.
She was rattled.
'Why...?'
All her plans assumed they'd recover the supplies.
Gone?
Kim Seo-jun ended the chaos.
"Someone took them."
Tire tracks in his line of sight.
But she questioned.
"Who?"
How would anyone know about her supplies? Psyker agent gear was top secret.
"Did you request delivery directly from HQ?"
"Directly?"
"Or through another soldier or staff?"
"I..."
Her face hardened.
"You think they sold psyker agent supply info?"
To her lingering doubt, he said, "Major, I'm here for the money. Private Park Bo-seop too. Most soldiers on Amotia are. And corruption in the Korean military? Not exactly news."
No rebuttal.
Not always the case—psyker agents handled things personally, and crooks rarely touched psyker gear.
But both overlapped here.
Ultimate bad luck.
At the worst time.
Kim Seo-jun didn't waste breath lamenting.
He checked the tracks.
Squish!
Left his footprint beside; compared roughly.
No big difference.
'Not heavily weathered. Probably stolen within the hour, give or take.'
Followed the fading tracks.
'Low odds.'
Vast planet—tracking thieves by tracks alone? Impossible.
One sandstorm, and gone.
'Can't even narrow nationalities.'
Pointless without knowing who.
'Best to cut losses.'
His conclusion.
"The Chinese pulled another classic Chinese. Ugh, fucking assholes."
Private Park Bo-seop spat; Kim Seo-jun whipped around.
"Chinese?"
"Yes?"
"Chinese? These tracks?"
"Uh, well..."
Park stammered, then explained.
"Tire tread pattern—from Zhongyuan Rubber, Chinese-made. They brand it loud— even patented the pattern for space. Only Chinese use it."
"Only Chinese?"
"Well... if forced, maybe. But I wouldn't bet my life driving on Chinese tires."
Kim Seo-jun turned.
"Major, one question."
"Ask."
"Supplies locked?"
"Yes."
"Private Park Bo-seop, can you follow the tracks?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do it."
They piled in and rolled; after thirty minutes, Kim Seo-jun narrowed his eyes.
'That?'
Grabbed binoculars.
"Found 'em."
"Pardon?"
"Thieves spotted."
"Where?"
"About two klicks ahead."
"What?"
"Gaudy Chinese flag, Korean flag crate in their truck bed."
"Huh?"
Ignoring Park's repeated confusion,
Click!
he chambered a round.
"Major Lee Hye-na, requesting permission to engage."