Back to the Ruined Base
“H-Headquarters?”
The Space Marines, who had rested for a full eight hours, all thought the same thing the moment their superior, Sergeant Kim Seo-jun, said those words.
Is this a joke?
They figured Sergeant Kim Seo-jun was pulling a nasty prank to ease their tension.
Of course, that wasn't the case.
For one, Kim Seo-jun wasn't the type to joke around on the battlefield like that. Plus, these guys had only known each other for about 33 hours.
Just three days ago, Kim Seo-jun and the Space Marines here had no idea the others even existed in this vast universe.
They weren't close enough to trade jokes in a moment like this.
“I don't think we're close enough for jokes right now.”
In fact, Kim Seo-jun wasn't joking, and he made that clear.
“And I'm not crazy enough to joke when headquarters just got blown to hell.”
Only then did the soldiers' faces harden as reality sank in.
“I know it doesn't make sense.”
Kim Seo-jun explained to them.
“But we're not on Earth—we're on a space planet. The only wall protecting us was the headquarters base. And now that's gone.”
“Sergeant Kim, sir, isn't heading there right now way too dangerous?”
“It is. But we need to know how our base fell. Was it an accident? Mogs? Or some hostile nation like China?”
“Ah.”
The moment “China” left Kim Seo-jun's mouth, every soldier got it.
Why they had to go to headquarters.
It was that important. No exaggeration.
Kim Seo-jun had made it home after his active duty without even yelling “Hey, water!” at his little sister over family dinner and getting into a silly spat when she said “What?”—all because he'd sized up situations perfectly. That situational awareness had kept him from major injuries, body and mind intact.
“Mogs or humans.”
Especially since who the enemy was would completely change their response.
And it wasn't a low-probability scenario.
Back on Earth, international treaties kept wars in check. But space was different.
Space wasn't covered by those treaties.
Space development was a nation's lifeline, and space offered perfect excuses.
Wasn't it the Mogs? The best alibi ever.
“Or those space peace activists, those fucking assholes. We need to know for sure.”
“Sir?”
There was also that galaxy-wide nutjob organization preaching space peace while pulling off all sorts of terrorism.
Anyway, the persuasion worked.
No one objected to scouting headquarters.
Their time with Kim Seo-jun was short, but every soldier gathered here knew it.
Sergeant Kim is our lifeline.
They knew how to act when a rope dropped from the sky.
Of course, that didn't stop the tension.
Fuck, why does shit always go sideways?
All these soldiers had volunteered, but not to enlist—they couldn't dodge the draft anyway, so might as well make some real money.
None had come thinking about death.
They weren't old enough to treat death lightly.
Despair soaked their faces.
To them, Kim Seo-jun said:
“For this recon op, it's just me and Private Park Bo-seop.”
Vroom!
The military truck roared back to life after recharging its batteries. Inside, only two Space Marines rode.
Just them.
Of the eight soldiers, the seven besides Private Park Bo-seop stayed in the bunker.
“Sergeant Kim, sir, isn't two too dangerous?”
The reason was simple.
“We're just scouting. A big group would just make more noise.”
They weren't heading into some massive battle.
Of course, Kim Seo-jun didn't say what he really thought.
These guys are useless. Dead weight, actually.
You seven are a burden to me.
And why not? Kim Seo-jun had far more active-duty experience than them.
So he knew.
If they were any good, they wouldn't be posted here.
The real elites didn't end up on dump planets like Amotia, the discard pile.
Space Marines were basically funded volunteers with clear goals—usually money.
The skilled ones among them got shipped to good units after a few fights.
In this era of constant space wars and talent shortages, good soldiers were priceless.
And Amotia? Definitely not a good unit.
This battle proved it too.
They were average Space Marines.
Anyway, Kim Seo-jun had no bandwidth to babysit averages right now.
Except Private Park Bo-seop.
The driver was useful in multiple ways.
If Kim Seo-jun couldn't drive, only the driver could save his ass.
And there were other reasons.
“Sergeant Kim Seo-jun, sir.”
“Speak.”
“W-what should I do, sir?”
Of course, Park Bo-seop had no clue about Kim Seo-jun's thinking.
Kim Seo-jun was driving right now, wasn't he?
“Park Bo-seop.”
“Private Park Bo-seop!”
“How much money do you need?”
“Sir?”
Park Bo-seop flinched at the question.
Kim Seo-jun pressed.
“You volunteered for Space Marine to make bank, right? Not pocket change—real money.”
Park Bo-seop hesitated.
“Surgery bills or something?”
“N-no, sir.”
He shook his head inside his Battle Suit helmet.
“I-I want to race.”
“Race? Car racing?”
“Yes, sir. My dream. But I need money...”
Park Bo-seop's voice trailed off.
I'm insane. Joining Space Marines for fucking racing? What a moron, Park Bo-seop.
Even he knew it was crazy.
He'd said he'd stake his life on racing, but now his life really was at stake.
Obviously, he expected Kim Seo-jun to scoff.
A grizzled vet would see his dream as pathetic.
“Cool.”
“Sir?”
“Staking your life on a dream? Not easy.”
But to Kim Seo-jun, Park Bo-seop was impressive.
“R-really? Not stupid?”
“Stupid is gambling away your life, buying sports cars without insurance, killing someone, then joining to pay debts.”
Real idiot stories flashed in Kim Seo-jun's mind.
Those types didn't last long. They died quick.
“Feels random in this shitshow, but glad it's you, Private.”
“Sir?”
“Guys like you survive longer.”
Dreamers didn't die easy.
Good for Kim Seo-jun.
In this anytime-could-die hell, landing a solid driver was pure luck.
Of course, Park Bo-seop still didn't get why he was here.
Then—
Screech!
Kim Seo-jun yanked the wheel hard. The truck swerved sharply.
“Wh-what!”
Park Bo-seop yelped in shock. Kim Seo-jun didn't answer.
Couldn't.
He saw it.
Dozens of red lights streaking toward their truck.
Seeing projectiles means it's not just my own stuff.
He knew what that meant.
And reality hit fast.
Shrieeeek!
A razor-sharp, pitch-black thorn—like a 1-meter spear—slammed into where the truck had been.
Park Bo-seop spotted it from the passenger seat and screamed in horror.
“Th-Thorn Snake!”
Thorn Snake!
A Mog type: 5-meter snake.
Not some Earth anaconda.
More like a walking howitzer barrel. Even a newbie would think, We're fucked!
And they were.
Thorn Snakes crawled normally but reared up on spotting prey, firing thorns like artillery.
Those thorns punched through tank armor.
To Space Marines, Thorn Snakes were nightmares.
Tank-piercing meant Battle Suits, bases, bunkers—all vulnerable.
Shrieeeek!
This pack was firing at Kim Seo-jun's group.
Despair loomed.
As Park Bo-seop neared panic—
“Private Park. Time to work.”
“Sir?”
“You asked what to do? Drive.”
Kim Seo-jun let go of the wheel.
“I'll handle the bastards.”
The real reason he'd brought Park Bo-seop.
Kim Seo-jun knew exactly what Space Marines were on the cosmic battlefield.
“The top priority for a Space Marine is survival. Forget merits—just live to return. You'll rack up merits naturally if you survive these deployments.”
He embodied that better than anyone.
Kim Seo-jun never fought recklessly.
Opposite: he treasured his body like no other.
That's how he'd served to the end and gone home healthy.
So handing the wheel to Park Bo-seop and moving to the truck bed wasn't some dramatic resolve.
Kim Seo-jun was certain.
This is an opportunity.
He could take the Thorn Snakes.
The pack's operating solo.
In his sights, only Thorn Snakes at a distance. The truck's radar—crappy as it was—showed no Mogdogs or such nearby.
Stragglers from a battle on the way back.
Slow movers like Thorn Snakes often lagged behind the horde.
They spotted us and attacked.
For Thorn Snakes, this wasn't easy.
Powerful ranged attacks, but they had to root half their tail to fire.
Not some balanced monster that moved and shot freely.
Fixed targets.
No sandstorm either.
Visibility was clear now.
But most reliable:
I've got the ability.
The moment he raised his gun, red light poured from the muzzle.
Endlessly far. Hundreds of meters, even beyond a kilometer.
Vroooom!
Park Bo-seop gripped the wheel, driving wildly, but it didn't faze Kim Seo-jun.
No Steam Pack needed.
He swung the barrel. Red light touched a Thorn Snake.
Bang-bang-bang-bang!
He emptied a magazine, bullets raining on the snake.
Too far to hear or see impact.
But the alert came.
Thorn Snake defeated.
10 points acquired.
Success on the Thorn Snake hunt.
Nice.
Kim Seo-jun cheered inwardly.
Then—
First Thorn Snake defeated. Silver Ticket rewarded.
Huh?
First target sniped from over 1 kilometer. Gold Ticket rewarded.
Back-to-back.
Hearing them, Kim Seo-jun looked more baffled than happy.
He hadn't expected this mid-fight.
But no time to dwell.
Dozens of Thorn Snakes left—no room for panic.
No need to hesitate either.
“Use both tickets.”
He activated them instantly. Alerts followed.
Silver Ticket yielded Stamina. Current Stamina below 30 points. Stat bonus applied. Stamina +3.
Then—
Suddenly, Kim Seo-jun's vision tinted brown.
At the same time, Park Bo-seop's voice crackled through the Battle Suit helmet's earpiece.
— Sergeant Kim Seo-jun, sir! Sandstorm! Can't see shit!
Kim Seo-jun turned to look.
And murmured low.
“Through Sight.”