#309. What I'm About to Tell You Is Classified.
A wyvern's razor-sharp talons dug into Go Eul-ji. She threw up a barrier around her entire body. But the wyvern's brute strength exceeded her expectations. The shield crumpled right along with her.
Go Eul-ji resisted fiercely, but it was futile. Even a lowly dragonkin was still dragonkin. A wyvern's power was nothing to scoff at.
I could shove it off with full force, but that'd just waste energy needlessly.
No telling how many monsters would pour out if a gate opened smack in the middle of the city.
Without resupply kits or gear, and no backup, she had to prepare for a prolonged fight.
An old memory surfaced. She'd trained for situations like this. Never fought a wyvern, but she'd been drilled on how to handle them.
Damn, who knew I'd be thinking of those old geezers now.
Go Eul-ji's gaze shifted to the wyvern's head.
Block its vision first. Cover its eyes with my shoe or something...
She wiggled her toes. That's when the emptiness hit her.
Oh crap! I'm barefoot?!
She'd rushed out in such a hurry to save Kim Nari that she'd grabbed only her armor coat and forgotten shoes.
Plan B: shoe over the eyes—scrapped.
No choice. It's all or nothing, but I've gotta try something else.
Go Eul-ji focused her power on the wyvern's flapping wings. Suddenly, both wings jerked upward like they'd snagged in a noose and locked in place.
The wyvern, riding the wind, tilted precariously and began plummeting. It screeched, struggling to spread its wings, but Go Eul-ji wasn't letting go. She gripped tighter, plummeting with it.
The wyvern quickly realized the tiny creature it clutched was up to tricks. Low intelligence by dragon standards, sure—but dismiss it as a dumb monster, and you'd regret it. These things were cunning as hell.
No choice: it released the pest.
Feeling the talons loosen, Go Eul-ji slipped free.
But she had no intention of letting the wyvern go.
The beast glared at her hovering in midair, wings still bound, eyes screaming Why? I let you go.
Go Eul-ji answered that look.
"Who said anything about letting you go? Just die already."
The wyvern's eyes spat curses.
"Kwee-eeek!"
Leaving the flailing wyvern to splash into the Han River, Go Eul-ji twisted toward Jamsil Bridge.
Screams erupted from the bus teetering on the railing's edge.
"Help us!"
"Kyaaak!"
"Aaaah! We're all gonna die! Everyone's dead!"
The pixies, thrilled by the screams, shook the bus harder.
Pixies were tiny—barely 30 cm tall—but nothing like fairy-tale sprites. Red fur, pointed ears, hooked noses, warty skin, and beady crossed eyes: pint-sized horrors.
Playful malice that could shred humans to rags in seconds. Weak individually, but scatter them in a city? Nightmare fuel.
Go Eul-ji counted.
Twenty-seven.
That many should've dumped the bus ages ago. It held only because the pixies savored the screams.
Let 'em scatter, and who knows where they'll wreck next. Gotta take 'em all at once.
Too close for big moves.
Go Eul-ji compressed a skill she'd recently mastered.
Clap!
Cymbals
Splat! Spluuurt! Thud!
Invisible pressure crushed the pixies from both sides. Dozens splattered, guts and goo raining down.
One pixie kicked out a final spasm before flattening.
The bus wobbled, then tipped toward the river.
Greeeech!
Railing scraped as it plunged.
"Kyaaak!"
"Moooom—"
"Eul-ji..."
Kim Nari's final thought: her friend. She believed Go Eul-ji would come.
"Whoa, touching. I was your last thought?"
The bus didn't hit water. It halted midair, as if on nothing. Passengers inside, tangled but unharmed, floated safely.
"E-Eul-ji!"
Through the window: Go Eul-ji, black armor coat flapping, grinning.
She wiped her nose.
"Not late, right?"
"How are you this cool?"
"I'm a natural star—shining brightest in the clutch—"
A black shadow streaked under the bridge, snatching Go Eul-ji. The bus lurched, seemed to drop—then jerked still.
Go Eul-ji eyed the claw squeezing her. Looked up: the wyvern she'd dropped earlier, smirking down.
This bastard! Oh shit—the bus!
She glanced: distance growing fast.
Big trouble.
Out of range, control would slip. Power faded with distance. She yanked the bus back to the bridge just in time—dropping it rough like a tossed sack.
Bus safe. Now deal with this thing.
Go Eul-ji glared at the wyvern.
It screeched mockingly: Whatcha gonna do, stare?
"Petty jerk! Some no-name dragon cousin thinks it can mess with this Go Eul-ji?!"
The wyvern bristled at words it couldn't parse.
Go Eul-ji ground her teeth. Fury from nearly losing the bus—and her friend.
"Butthurt from your solo splashdown?"
"Kwee?"
Tenfold Chains
Ten invisible chains bound the wyvern. Wingbeats halted. Its skyward surge slowed, gravity reclaiming it for descent.
Go Eul-ji clamped the wyvern's leg tight.
It panicked, beak snapping—but her barrier, tested against Joo Se-ah, held.
"Let's die together this time."
Sonic Boom
Boooom!
Kang Moo-hyuk left combat readiness to Pyo Beom-hee and Hyeon Jeong-geon, focusing on intel.
The initial gate alert was too vague.
He called the Guild Cooperation Department.
Cha Gil-ju's tone was grave.
"Bukhansan South Gate 21 has broken out."
Twenty-first gate south of Bukhansan.
"Raid failure?"
"We're still assessing."
"Raid schedule? Even squeezing every drop from a gate, Cooperation Dept. rejects tight timelines like this—right when it'd pop open."
"We're puzzled too. Schedule had plenty of buffer. Then it just... burst."
Kang Moo-hyuk sifted possibilities from Cha Gil-ju's words.
"Falsified report? Fudging outbreak timing?"
"No. We verified it ourselves—matched our breakout calc. Month of leeway."
"Irregular?"
"Irregulars show signs early. This one's three months old—no red flags. Safe-grade gate, mid-tier Ban-do Guild raiding. Low worry."
Kang Moo-hyuk's mind raced.
Blue gate. Long-term, months open. Textbook stable. Minimal risk. Then boom?
Petty War flashbacks. He shook off the dread.
No. That'd need dozens simultaneous.
His logic churned to one conclusion.
He withheld it from Cha Gil-ju—didn't want to distract the man scrambling crisis control.
"Joo Se-ah will arrive soon. If boss raid failed, deploy her."
"Deploy how?"
"Slayer and other top guilds are probably rushing the Bukhansan gate mouth."
Scattered urban skirmishes post-outbreak? Casualty spike. Lesson from the Petty War.
Outbreak golden rule: seal the entrance first.
Fail that, endless monster waves trash the city.
"Tell Seong Seon-je of Slayer: use Joo Se-ah to seize the gate fast. Pledge full raid support—they'll handle it."
"You're not commanding? We can call a unified force—you as ops officer?"
"No time for that in a Seoul assault. Two top guilds linking up suffices. I've got elsewhere to be."
"What...?"
"I'll tell you once confirmed."
Cha Gil-ju dropped it. In crisis, Kang Moo-hyuk going solo meant it was critical.
Hang up. Hookswitch. Dial international: 86 prefix.
Deep voice answered promptly.
Unfamiliar Chinese. Right—no interpreter item.
Dug it from drawer, equipped.
"Long time, Professor Guan."