Hawk Eye's Piercing Might
Psykers wielded powers beyond human limits by using the Prophet's Relics.
But possessing a Prophet's Relic didn't guarantee success.
In the psyker world, there were concepts of aptitude and capacity.
Aptitude determined how effectively one could use the power. The higher the aptitude, the better they could harness the relic's full strength.
Capacity, as the name implied, was the sheer volume they could output.
And among psykers, this gap was far wider than most imagined.
"Even psykers have differences in ability."
Dr. Space, the one who coined the concept, had said.
"As vast as—or greater than—the difference between a mouse and an elephant in the wild."
Psykers varied enormously in ability, and those who reached the top class were beings in a league of their own.
It wasn't just raw power; the very nature of their manifested abilities differed.
Hawk Eye was a prime example.
One of America's premier psykers, Hawk Eye stood out even in her weaponry.
Thanks to her superhuman strength, she handled cannon-like guns as casually as an assault rifle.
And with her Gauss rifle, she burned through custom rounds—bullets pricier than missiles—without a second thought. America footed the bill, after all.
But what truly set Hawk Eye apart were two abilities.
One was enhanced vision. Her eyesight hit 10.0, surpassing even a hawk's famed 7.0—fitting her nickname.
The real terror, though, was her penetration ability.
"Hawk Eye's bullets pierce anything. More precisely, they pass through anything. Without fail."
This rare gift, held by only a handful of psykers, did exactly as advertised.
It imbued a target with penetration.
Temporarily shattering the fundamental properties of matter.
No one knew the principle, but the Prophet's Relic made it real—and its battlefield impact laughed at physics.
Put simply: Hawk Eye tagged a bullet with penetration, and it slipped through any armor like butter, straight to the squishy core inside.
And that handiwork now sprawled before Kim Seo-jun's squad.
"My God."
The horrifying Mog horde lay devastated.
"Tank Worms... taken out that easily..."
The worst hit were the fearsome Tank Worms, crushed like bugs underfoot—forms unrecognizable.
Hawk Eye's custom rounds had punched through their armor and detonated within.
Gulp!
Lieutenant Lee Hye-na and Private Park Bo-seop stared, speechless.
Kim Seo-jun was shocked too.
But not like them.
Not because he underestimated it.
I've seen it up close during the Behemoth fight, but it's insane.
He'd witnessed Hawk Eye's prowess firsthand, from point-blank range.
Even she took days—and a team of her caliber—to barely drop the Behemoth.
More awe-inspiring: it took psykers like her swarming in over days to fell it.
Anyway, true to her word, Hawk Eye had erased the Mog legion in a flash.
Staring at the carnage, Kim Seo-jun knew.
I can't measure up yet.
Status window or not, his gains weren't enough.
No envy, though.
The opposite.
This moment crystallized it for him.
- Alright, thanks for waiting.
Time to speak with the force that made this horde look trivial.
- Sending coordinates. Head there.
No choice for Kim Seo-jun's squad.
"Moving out."
Hawk Eye's coordinates led to a lone air tent.
Nothing else.
Then her voice crackled.
- Sorry, I'm too shy to chat face-to-face.
No one questioned it—not because they bought the "shy" bit.
Hawk Eye was America's top psyker; her identity was classified.
Expecting a personal meet-and-greet? Unrealistic.
Even this voice—feminine—could be synthetic.
Man or woman didn't matter.
One thing did.
- Sit. Let's talk.
This chat decided if they'd end up like those Tank Worms.
From Hawk Eye's view, blasting them on sight was fair game.
Thieves raiding her supplies? Let them walk?
Given the chaos, no one would blink if she did—and America would cover her.
Yet no attack. Simple reason.
If she wanted us dead, we'd be gone already.
She liked them, somehow.
Kim Seo-jun cut to it.
"Thanks for sparing us first off."
Acknowledging her mercy.
"Here's how we acquired your supplies."
He briefed the supply grab concisely.
"We'll compensate—your supplies, usage fees, whatever."
Her reply came.
- Fair enough. My turn. Message from above: chatting with me in space? Rarely ends well. No exaggeration—most soldiers I meet discharge. Voluntarily, wounded, or two ranks up. They don't see me again.
Kim Seo-jun gave a wry smile.
- Why I'm here? That bastard. That's all for now.
Understanding dawned.
Why she'd spared them.
She needed any help against China.
Private Park Bo-seop and Major Lee Hye-na exhaled in relief.
No immediate death.
Kim Seo-jun saw differently.
This is hopeless.
Even Hawk Eye couldn't handle China's HQ solo?
Meant they hid something nasty.
- Anyway, that's it. Fun chat.
She cut off.
"We'll hand over all the supplies."
Kim Seo-jun moved to surrender them.
- Nah, keep 'em.
"Pardon?"
- Just requested 'em. Boredom cure.
Click.
Bait. All along—for Chinese thieves.
- Looks like your gear's better for killing one more Mog than mine.
Kim Seo-jun nodded.
No reason to refuse.
"Thank you."
End of talk.
They exited the tent, boarded Park Bo-seop's Uryong.
Three aboard meant no speed runs—but priorities shifted.
No rush anyway.
Mog horde targeting Polish Base? Slaughtered.
Peace for now.
"Whew, feels like I can breathe. Thought I was done for."
Park Bo-seop finally relaxed aboard.
Major Lee Hye-na too—her ragged breaths betrayed her stoicism.
"Hawk Eye... damn, gave me chills. Never again."
- Hey, hold up.
Her radio pinged back; tension gripped the others.
Not Kim Seo-jun.
- Told you to take it all, but you left this.
He knew the perfect gift.
"Heard you like cola."
- Hell yeah.
He'd left it behind on purpose.
- America has this tipping culture—annoying as hell. I'm American. So, tip time. Coordinates incoming. Note 'em.
She rattled them off.
- Check it yourself. Surprise. Haven't had a Korean entertain me like that in ages.
"Honor."
- Hope we meet face-to-face someday. Though seeing my face ain't a blessing.
Click.
"Back to Polish Base."
Polish Base wasn't jubilant on their arrival.
Major Yan Zabwotski mirrored it—shock over joy.
"What happened? The entire Mog legion wiped out?"
Kim Seo-jun explained.
"Hawk Eye showed up. Helped us."
"What?"
"Hawk Eye supported us."
"Ah."
Instant grasp.
Hawk Eye's name carried weight—no defeat where she fought.
"H-Hawk Eye's really here?"
And she only appeared in hellholes.
Amotia? Hell.
"Major Yan Zabwotski, focus on one thing."
To the rattled Pole, Kim Seo-jun stressed the priority.
"Survival. That's it."
Yan Zabwotski's eyes hardened.
True enough.
Situation was dire; they'd known.
"And it's good now. Polish Base is safe short-term. Mogs took heavy losses—no follow-up assault."
Time to celebrate, Polish-side.
"Talk with Hawk Eye went friendly. No immediate hostility."
Plus a gift.
Space alliances flipped fast, but good was good.
"Whatever Hawk Eye does here? Not our problem. Hold the base till rescue."
Polish Base—and Kim Seo-jun's—goal wasn't reclaiming Amotia, killing the Queen, or judging China.
Just endure.
Yan's gaze steadied.
"Thanks."
More resolute than ever.
"Always in your debt, Sergeant Kim Seo-jun."
"I'm grateful for Polish Base's support. Let's hold till evac."
Kim Seo-jun's eyes burned with resolve.
He wanted no part in Amotia's drama.
Reenlisted for cash to live happily with family—he'd earned it.
Now? Just get to Earth.
Somehow, outlast this.
Protect Polish Base. No holds barred.
Hence.
"Private Park Bo-seop."
"Private Park Bo-seop!"
"Tough ask. Rest 8 hours, then move."
"Where to, sir?"
"Fetch the gift. Polite, right?"
Max speed on Hawk Eye's tip.
"Yes, sir!"
Park Bo-seop replied without hesitation.
Situation stabilized.
Peace at Polish Base; squad got real bunks for once.
Kim Seo-jun slept deep—finally.
Not long.
"Sergeant Kim Seo-jun!"
A Polish soldier shook him awake, urgent.
"Emergency."
"What is it?"
Kim Seo-jun stayed calm—Space Marine life: more interrupted sleeps than full ones.
Woken by a human? Good sign.
Mogs did it in real crises.
Battle-ready in seconds.
"Private Park Bo-seop's condition is off."
"...Where?"
His face shifted.
He rushed to the sealed med bay, saw it.
"Urghhh!"
Private Park Bo-seop, strapped in a reinforced bed, vomiting everything.
Kim Seo-jun's expression hardened.
That was it.
"Can't go in."
Unknown contagion—no risks.
Just watch.
Any infection vector?
Brainstorming.
Mog virus? Nah, symptoms don't match. Chinese bioweapon? Hidden Uryong safeguard?
Worse scenarios piled up.
Then.
"Private Park Bo-seop's status?"
Major Lee Hye-na arrived, peered through glass too.
"Ugh... ugh... ughhh."
Park Bo-seop, purged, seemed lucid briefly.
"S-Sergeant Kim... M-Major."
Then.
"I-I'm... done for."
Accepting death, last words.
"H-Honored... to serve."
Kim Seo-jun glared, memorizing.
Understood.
Only honor such resolve by etching it deep.
Click.
Grabbed the intercom phone.
"Private Park Bo-seop, honor's mine."
"S-Sergeant!"
Then.
"Hold on."
Lee Hye-na snatched the phone.
"Private Park Bo-seop."
"M-Major! Th-Thanks for everything!"
"Question. First vomit—what color?"
"Huh?"
"Black, maybe?"
"Uh... d-don't... know, ma'am. V-Vomit color matter?"
"Yes."
She answered.
"I've puked black too."