Sandstorm Sniper's Gamble
Private Park Bo-seop lost his mind the moment Sergeant Kim Seo-jun handed over the wheel.
He couldn't help it.
'Crazy, crazy, crazy!'
Heading to the destroyed headquarters was insane enough, but who would've thought they'd run into Thorn Snakes on the way?
And for Private Park Bo-seop, this was his first time seeing one up close.
It wasn't strange.
Even among Space Marines, few had ever laid eyes on a Thorn Snake and lived to tell the tale—and fewer still stayed in the service afterward.
Especially now, with that Thorn Snake gunning straight for their truck.
It was enough to drive anyone mad.
Vroooom!
But the instant his hands gripped the wheel, Park Bo-seop's racing thoughts began to settle.
'Get it together. Grab the wheel, keep your head on straight.'
Of course, Park Bo-seop wasn't the type to race just as a hobby.
He dreamed of competing in the American NASCAR circuit someday, pouring everything into it.
He had his racer's license and had even built a career in pro-level events—not the biggest leagues, but respectable ones.
In Korea's racing scene, he was known as something of a prodigy.
And he'd logged countless hours of training.
That experience kicked in now.
The moment he took the wheel, his panic faded, and he started driving like a pro.
Shhhiiiik!
He swerved left, then left again, dodging the incoming thorns from the Thorn Snake.
Staring straight ahead, weaving around massive boulders, Park Bo-seop soon spotted it.
'Sandstorm!'
A massive wall of brown haze blotting out everything ahead.
"Sergeant Kim! Sandstorm incoming!"
He called it out right away.
Of course, he figured Sergeant Kim would handle it himself—guy had way more experience.
Vroooom!
'Huh?'
But even as the sandstorm hit, Kim Seo-jun didn't climb into the passenger seat.
'What the hell?'
It didn't make sense.
'There's nothing you can do in this.'
In a blinding sandstorm like this, a Space Marine's rifle was useless.
As Park Bo-seop pondered that, he heard it.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
5.
Sandstorms in space were on another level compared to Earth's.
In one, a Space Marine's gun was worthless.
Even Mogdogs couldn't fight effectively.
And Thorn Snakes? Forget precise thorn attacks.
That was why the rule was simple: when a sandstorm hit, turn tail and run—no looking back. It was Space Marine gospel, and Kim Seo-jun knew it better than anyone.
But not this time.
No grand reason.
'X-Ray Vision.'
He'd just unlocked a new ability.
'Let's test it.'
No point hiding it away for later.
"X-Ray Vision."
He activated it immediately.
Up to this point, he figured he'd check it out and bail if needed.
'...My God.'
But the moment X-Ray Vision kicked in, he couldn't run.
'I can see it.'
Through the thick sand, the Thorn Snake was visible.
Not crystal clear.
Like grainy footage from an early 21st-century video, full of noise—but the shape was there.
That was enough for Kim Seo-jun.
His gun sight glowed red, guaranteeing a hit on contact.
And it wasn't just "light hits, so bullet hits."
In a sandstorm, bullets veered wildly.
Even laser sights wouldn't help—wind bent trajectories.
Light didn't refract, but bullets did.
This red glow was different.
It compensated for everything.
Red light on target? Hit guaranteed, no matter the disaster.
Meanwhile, the Thorn Snakes were crippled—no ranged attacks possible.
Easy choice.
Kim Seo-jun aimed, red glow touched the blurry shape, and he fired.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Gunfire echoed, and soon, notifications rang out.
Combat ended. Beginning settlement.
15 Thorn Snakes defeated. 75 points acquired.
15 Thorn Snakes killed from over 500 meters. Sniper bonus: 150 points awarded.
Victory in combat. 100 points rewarded.
The moment the alerts hit—and the Thorn Snakes vanished from sight—Kim Seo-jun dropped into the passenger seat without hesitation.
Thud!
The open-top military truck rang out as his Battle Suit hit the seat.
"Sergeant Kim!"
Park Bo-seop kept his eyes glued forward, hands steady on the wheel, calling out while fully focused on driving.
"Good work. On the driving."
Kim Seo-jun meant it.
Few drivers could stay locked in during chaos like this—even in Kim Seo-jun's battle-hardened career.
"Th-thank you, sir."
Park Bo-seop replied without glancing away.
'Thorn Snakes behind us. Stay sharp. No telling when they'll strike.'
He had no clue they'd been wiped out—couldn't afford to relax.
Kim Seo-jun skipped the details.
No need to spill his miracle.
He just asked:
"Battery left?"
"About 77 percent."
"Enough for HQ. Straight there."
"Sir?"
Park Bo-seop's face twisted in shock.
"Headquarters? Isn't that suicide?"
Thorn Snakes on the move—not stationary.
Proof of a Mog horde migrating.
Training camp drilled it: halt everything, hunker down in base, wait for orders.
Kim Seo-jun knew.
Mog hordes on the march? Tread carefully.
But context mattered.
"Thorn Snakes moving solo means the horde's hustling fast. And Mogs hustle only for human hunts."
These Thorn Snakes were en route to a fight.
Spotted the truck, attacked on orders.
"Their path was roughly toward our HQ."
Putting it together:
"The horde that hit HQ might've moved on. Base could be empty—or lightly guarded."
Park Bo-seop dropped his doubts.
"Roger. Flooring it."
Vrooooom!
7.
Space was vast.
Planets immense.
Even folks from Earth's big landmasses felt tiny here.
Amotia was no different.
It took 17 full hours at top speed to reach HQ.
Kim Seo-jun whipped out the binoculars right away.
"Mogs' handiwork, confirmed."
The Korean branch base was unrecognizable from his arrival.
Resource plants, factories, barracks—all smashed to ruin.
"Ah..."
Park Bo-seop stared, soul drained.
He'd seen examples endlessly in training.
Mog terror vids and pics galore.
But reality hit different.
Overwhelming destruction crushed the will to fight those monsters.
'Gonna puke.'
His energy gel threatened to come up.
"Lucky break."
"Sir?"
Park Bo-seop blinked in disbelief.
"L-lucky?"
Kim Seo-jun clarified:
"Not that HQ's trashed. Looks like Mogdogs, Thorn Snakes, and bomb bugs did it. No traces of heavier hitters."
Park Bo-seop got it—sort of.
Still stunned; it was beyond his scale.
For Kim Seo-jun, crucial intel.
'No Behemoths or sky whales. Thank God.'
Those apocalypse-class Mogs meant no survival on Amotia.
Not just scary.
'If it gets bad, brass'll just glass the planet.'
High command's call: wipe it clean.
'Battlecruisers inbound? Game over.'
Anyone planetside? Dead.
But this? Serious, not cruiser-level.
'Don't wanna see another Syrph repeat.'
He'd lived that purge—relief now.
Unless it worsened.
For now, manageable.
By his gauge, scout mission success.
Definitely.
"Huh?"
The request blared from his Battle Suit speaker.
One location obvious.
"Survivors in HQ."
His eyes met Park Bo-seop's.
The private's face screamed: Rescue? Insane.
Kim Seo-jun glanced back at the ruins.
Smashed base.
Kieee!
Mogdogs scurrying atop it.
'Three hundred, maybe?'
Not many.
No illusion.
Korean branch was weak, but HQ could've handled a thousand Mogdogs.
Tens of thousands hit it.
Three hundred left? Scant remnants.
Still too much for two Space Marines.
Open terrain fight? Way harder than bunkers.
And rescue meant killing dogs plus extracting the VIP.
Worst conditions.
But wait—there's more.
Kim Seo-jun eyed the sky.
Sandstorm cleared; a black dot circled above.
'Cyclops.'
A Mog species: 20-meter flyer, balloon with squid legs, giant eye on belly—hence "Cyclops."
Ridiculous look.
No combat power.
But nightmare for Space Marines.
Simple reason.
'Touch a Mogdog, it calls every Mog nearby.'
Cyclops led the pack.
Any noise? Thousands swarm.
Rescue op? Wrap in under an hour.
Impossible.
"Sergeant Kim."
Park Bo-seop's pleading tone: Order the retreat.
Kim Seo-jun replied:
"We're soldiers. Can't ignore a rescue call—even if it kills us."
"Ah."
Park Bo-seop's face hardened in despair.
Didn't expect that.
"R-right."
Basic duty, really.
Ignore a call? Not soldier, not human.
"G-gotta save 'em."
He swallowed dread, nodded.
Kim Seo-jun said:
"...Kidding. Don't care about soldier codes."
"Sir?"
"Reenlisted for one reason: cash."
Park Bo-seop blinked, confused.
"Rescuing VIPs gets bonuses."
"For real?"
"Rarely advertised, but it's there. Sue if they stiff you—they pay."
Park Bo-seop's eyes lit up.
"Like I said: reenlisted to make bank."
Same for him.
Earth-bound with earnings.
Chance now.
"Not suicidal for chump change. But worth the gamble. Especially if it's the branch captain—major survival boost after."
"How?"
"Captains get trackers we don't. We ping that first."
No more hesitation.
"What do I do?"
Kim Seo-jun grinned:
"You drift?"