Blood of the Winged Hussars
There were countless tales from World War II.
Among them was the story of the Polish cavalry.
"During World War II, the Polish cavalry charged at tanks on horseback! What idiots!"
People heard how those horsemen galloped straight at wheels clad in steel and figured the Poles must have been so primitive they didn't even know what a tank was—that's why the Germans overran them.
Of course, once the story gained notoriety, everyone learned it was actually Nazi propaganda distortion, and the truth was different.
Those Polish cavalrymen not only knew what tanks were but wielded highly effective anti-tank weapons, using horses merely as transport.
No one thought of those charging Polish lancers as savages anymore.
Their descendants took pride in their ancestors' charge.
Yan Zabwotski was one of them.
One of the men who had galloped his horse toward German tanks during World War II was his ancestor, and he'd heard the tale since childhood.
"The blood of the Winged Hussars flows in our veins. The blood that can charge at anything for the fatherland."
He felt that pride, and so Yan Zabwotski ventured into space without hesitation.
He wanted to show the universe the legendary Polish mounted unit, the Winged Hussars.
Of course, it helped that the Polish Space Force had created the Winged Hussars unit—open only to top aces—to lure young talent, and he'd fallen for the prestige. Just having the name got you big money and swarms of women.
In any case, Yan Zabwotski enlisted in the Polish Space Force and excelled as an ace in every aspect.
He was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Winged Hussars unit.
He didn't hate his military life after that.
For an elite like him, the Polish Space Force provided stages he could handle.
His life changed when he made captain.
Deployed to Palabo Planet, Captain Yan Zabwotski gazed upon the Behemoth there.
Not directly, of course.
The Polish base was quite a distance from the area where the Behemoth appeared.
Instead, the friendly Korean base lay beneath the Behemoth's domain, so they went to assist.
Even there, they couldn't do much.
Against an off-spec monster like the Behemoth, non-Psykers were useless.
They could only watch from afar.
That's when he heard the story.
"A Korean Space Marine—some private—saved a general from the Behemoth? What kind of bullshit is that?"
"The general sent a distress call, and a nearby grunt drove up in a truck, grabbed him, and got out."
"In a truck? Drove right into Behemoth territory?"
"No idea if it's true. But sounds like the guy's famous over there. A total mad bastard."
A tale about some Korean private.
Most dismissed it as a joke, but Yan Zabwotski sensed something.
He yearned to live a life where he could charge for someone else.
From then on, he sought merciless hellholes instead of safe postings.
Until now, nothing had qualified as hell, but his reckless wandering had finally paid off.
Right here, right now.
"Three Tank Worms incoming!"
With the gate suddenly destroyed, a horde of Tank Worms bore down on the base.
Meanwhile, the Polish base had suffered heavy casualties from the abrupt battle.
Someone had to buy time against the Tank Worms, and Major Yan Zabwotski felt it.
"I'll hold them. Get the hovers ready."
The moment had arrived.
No hesitation.
He immediately led three transports and fourteen hover riders toward the Tank Worm pack.
As the transports closed in and he eyed the approaching Tank Worms, Major Yan Zabwotski realized:
'My ancestor was definitely a mad bastard.'
Charging in this situation was impossible for any sane man.
'That Korean private too.'
Boundless respect welled up for that Korean Space Marine.
But that didn't mean turning the transports around.
They'd come too far, and anyway, the blood of Polish cavalrymen—the blood that willingly charged for the fatherland—flowed in Major Yan Zabwotski's veins.
So he declared:
"Everyone, make it back alive!"
With that order, fifteen hoverbikes surged from the transports.
Whiiiing!
Major Yan Zabwotski's hoverbike led the charge into the Tank Worm horde.
As he barreled forward, he shouted:
"God, look upon us with favor!"
"Two kilometers!"
Private Park Bo-seop's report made Kim Seo-jun take a long, deep breath.
Battle was imminent. He began clearing his mind of clutter, one thought at a time.
'One-shot-one-kill mission, my ass.'
First to go: the Status Window's absurd quest.
The reward was huge, but right now, it meant nothing.
'No fucking way. Tank Worms shrug off shells.'
Tank Worms weren't scary just for their size.
Size alone made them easy targets for humanity.
Their terror came from armor no Mogdog could match—explosives barely scratched it.
'This rifle can barely pierce the hide.'
Even the Gauss sniper rifle in Kim Seo-jun's hands proved it.
Gauss rifles outclassed chemical firearms by leagues.
But against Tank Worms? Futile.
Like a needle pricking flesh—painful, not lethal.
'Except the eyes.'
That's why he trusted the Gauss sniper: the eyes.
Not easy targets, though.
Lids were insanely tough, and eyes stayed shut except when changing course or amid big noise—blink-and-miss-it moments.
Even then, eyes didn't kill.
'Hitting eyes slows their speed.'
Kim Seo-jun wasn't hunting Tank Worms—he aimed to delay the horde reaching the Polish base.
'Eyes only.'
His mind fixed on Tank Worm eyes. He flattened into the truck bed, assuming sniper stance.
To brace the recoil somehow.
He knew the truth.
Gauss rifle recoil wasn't for regular Space Marines.
Even the Gauss rifle from Major Lee Hye-na felt like a shotgun to him.
This sniper variant? Beyond mortal hands.
So he prepped.
"Climb on."
At Kim Seo-jun's request, Major Lee Hye-na planted her knees and arms atop him.
Her monstrous strength—the kind that cleaved Mogdogs in half with an axe—locked him steady.
Ready. He injected Steam Pack.
"Steam Pack injecting."
It surged in before he finished speaking.
Insane move.
Recommended cooldown: 72 hours.
Most obeyed. Second dose tanked stamina hard.
Not "I'm beat, bed time"—limbs refused to move.
Yet here he was, third dose in under 48 hours.
Without boosted stamina from the Status Window? Impossible.
'Effect won't last long.'
Third time meant short duration.
He didn't care.
Halting one Tank Worm saved dozens, hundreds.
Then—in slowed time—he saw it.
A Tank Worm's eye opening.
Kwa-gwang!
Polish hover riders' explosions had pried it open.
Just a blink.
Kim Seo-jun squeezed the trigger.
The round flew—insanely fast.
Suiiiing!
The sound alone differed from normal rounds—otherworldly trajectory.
Ku-gu-gu-gu!
Private Park Bo-seop's truck lurched hard as the roar hit.
Recoil shook the vehicle.
Most shocking: the round had already struck.
Gauss speed outpaced sound several times over.
"Whoa!"
As Park Bo-seop wrestled the wheel, the result was in.
Kirarararara!
Screeching from the Tank Worm's body—not its voice, mouthless.
Bomb Worms inside sensed agony, shrieked.
Park Bo-seop nearly yelled "Oh shit, we're fucked!"
Suiiiing!
Second shot. Truck lurched again.
He swallowed his curse—too sudden.
Major Lee Hye-na startled too.
Not Kim Seo-jun. Planned.
'Hit one, others peek.'
Plan worked. Two Tank Worms blinded.
One left!
'Third...'
Unpredictable reaction from the last.
Then:
'Gotcha!'
In his slowed world, the third eye cracked open.
Once-in-a-lifetime shot. He moved to fire.
But:
'Hold.'
In extreme slow-mo, something felt off.
A hunch.
'No way?'
He eased his trigger finger.
Paused.
Saw it:
Kwa-gwang!
Blinded Tank Worm thrashed, slammed the last one.
They tumbled sideways.
In the roll—a split-second—Kim Seo-jun glimpsed beneath the armor: packed Bomb Worms.
Three glowed blue amid the swarm.
'Primed!'
Like grenades with pins pulled.
Impossible normally.
Bomb Worms never armed inside unless ordered.
Never under attack—self-destruct risk.
But chaos: bad order or glitch. No hesitation.
He fired at the glowing Bomb Worms.
Then:
[Mission...]
Darkness hit Kim Seo-jun's world.
Stamina depleted. Senses shut down sequentially.
Thought last. Before it cut, he heard:
Everything happened in a flash.
Peo-ver-bung!
To the Polish hover riders, a massive boom erupted behind them suddenly.
Major Yan Zabwotski whipped around first.
Kieeek!
Luring dozens of Mogdogs—keeping tantalizing distance—he turned and saw.
Tank Worms exploding, flipping.
He froze.
Couldn't react.
His logic couldn't process it.
What moved him: ancestral blood.
Polish lancer blood whispered one truth:
'Tank Worms are down.'
The greatest threat halted.
"All units, withdraw!"
No need to linger in hell.
His eleven surviving riders reacted instantly—not thought, instinct.
Battle-hardened instincts from volunteering for this madness.
Whiiiing!
No need to bait now—they floored it.
Escape wasn't easy.
Mogdogs were fast, plus Thorn Snakes behind—headache.
Half surviving? Profitable.
That's why:
"Full throttle! Run like hell!"
Major Yan Zabwotski veered his hoverbike.
Toward the Tank Worms.
"Major?"
Intent clear: bait to save his men.
No hesitation.
Instead, he thought:
'God, thank you for this proud blood!'
Grateful to play bait.
His ride was godlike.
Weaving ghostlike through charging Mogdogs and Thorn Snake spines, he drew every eye.
Bought escape time.
Lots—full four minutes of acrobatics.
His limit.
Kwa-jik!
One Thorn Snake spine pierced his hoverbike.
It crashed; he tumbled like a stone.
Riding suit spared major injury, but rising, he was half-surrounded by Mogdogs.
No pause—he drew his back-slung rifle.
Last stand.
Then:
Buaaaang!
Military truck roared from afar. A shadow loomed overhead.
Kung!
It landed before him. The figure spoke:
"Reinforcements. Evacuate."
The translated voice stunned Major Yan Zabwotski.
But doubt fled.
The newcomer halved an approaching Mogdog with an axe.
He knew:
'Psyker!'
A superhuman mocking Mogdogs.
One reply fit:
"Yes, sir!"