Rock of Resistance
The Battalion Commander's residence, the so-called Rock of Resistance, had its lights on even in the dead of night. Sounds leaked out, and shadows flickered intermittently through the curtains. He seemed to be doing his utmost to figure out where he was right now...
"Since I vanished midway, he's gotta wake up the ability users to catch me or something. No other options, right?"
If he'd slapped a tracker on me from the start, that'd be one thing, but he fixated on capturing me and sent armed troops?
"Does he think we'll just follow orders like good little soldiers? Does he have a brain or not?"
The assumption that I'd meekly submit pissed him off to no end. How fucking fun must it have been, fantasizing about me writhing helplessly and accepting my fate? If I'd actually been dragged in handcuffed, what snowball of blackmail would he have rolled out? Just thinking about it made bile rise naturally—pure aggravation.
"Desertion's the worst kind, armed desertion... pin a few incidents on me..."
Then ship me to military court and dangle a plea deal. "If you don't want a red line slashed across your life, bend the fuck over like a seagull."
"Ugh, grind me till I'm broken, toss me a pittance pension if I'm too busted, and dump me back in society."
We're their precious troops when we can still run; once we're spent, it's "your life now," like that's normal. If they gave a shit about others' lives, they wouldn't have pulled this crap in the first place—no mitigating factors there.
"So, you rolled a snowball of humiliation my way? Fair trade to roll one back, right?"
Sure, the army's got that image of half-assed guards slacking off, but humans are smart enough to use machines for basic efficiency. Hell, dimensional gates that could spit monsters anytime were right there—ammo depots, roads, barracks, command offices, hallways. They'd have CCTV around guard posts to stop morale-crushed troops from bolting, even if not for that.
So, revenge during duty hours? That'd be 100% my fault in the military logbooks—worst of the worst plays.
"Standing by with rifles cocked every damn day, I clocked it quick... even the residence area's not safe."
Officer dorms and the commander's house had basic cameras on key entry paths. Sneaking that way? Leaves traces later—another shitty option.
But where there's a will, there's a way. Humans planned for paths? Leapfrog over 'em.
"The cliffside rock face next to the residence—no trails, too steep for climbers. No cameras there."
Kim Chomo, who'd lightly bounded up the sheer slope, rolled his shoulders. If he were Jeong Il-hwan, he'd quip, "Who knew Korea had such a beautiful tradition?" But for a brute like him, something rougher fit.
"Like this traditional game passed down from the Joseon era!"
Called Stone War—a time-honored way for the masses to settle disputes and divvy turf. The pinnacle of Korean heritage, carried on till the early 1900s, was about to unfold.
BOOM...
He slammed his iron-hard, body-enhanced fist into a massive granite boulder near the ridge.
"Aigoo, Battalion Commander! Rock's rolling down—watch out!"
Just place it on the wind-eroded smooth slope, and gravity takes over. Energy conversion means some mass flakes off from friction—pity—but minimizing his effort while maximizing their misery? Solid plan.
Of course, leaving it all to nature's judgment is lazy wishful thinking. Before the downhill thunderbolt hit the residence, time to brew man-made disaster.
He hoisted a head-sized boulder—no, millstone-class rock—overhead.
"Landslides are rocks too. Let's see how lucky our Battalion Commander gets in this natural disaster?"
Hrah!
Gravity assist: lob it sky-high to crash down. Stars did it, not him—who could argue?
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHIIISH—!!
Rocks slicing air, arcing to peaks before plummeting to targets. Not MLB strike-zone precision, but Korean baseball's stone-throwing DNA? Enough to bean the batter.
"Traditional games gotta be rough to taste right, yeah?"
Man's work done—rest to the heavens. He wasn't a pro rock-eater; even unhurt, it'd warn 'em plenty.
KABOOM---!!
Seeing his boulder nail the residence door dead-on, Kim Chomo fired-and-forgot like modern artillery.
"Ugh, look at it shake."
He looped back via the camera-light ridge for quick descent—not the guarded roads. Base in mountains, body hating cold urged "get inside," but...
The rock mountain's collapse accelerated faster than expected after yanking the biggest boulder and lobbing supports.
"Rock-types basics are Rock Slide and Rock Shower, but..."
RUMBLE...!!
"Even as a Grass-type, eating that and facing that quack doc till discharge? No thanks."
Matchup neutral still hurts. Confirming the avalanche bury the residence in dirt and stone, Kim Chomo grinned.
"Alright, time to head in for the victor's feast?"
He circled casually, shivering like a dutiful guard, slipped inside.
"Ugh... back. Fucking freezing out... gotta ramen up."
"Yeah, Chomo? Sorry for the hassle on discharge eve. Eat up and crash."
He slurped ramen, bidding farewell to his final military mishap.
Landslide crushed the house—naturally, Battalion Commander missed work next day. Key guy's life spared by a hair, personality kept single—no wife/kids to fret in fantasy.
--Residence totaled! Stuff wrecked! One two three four! Bankrupt!
Pinching pennies on meager pay for furnishings? New shopping hell.
"GRAAAGH! GRAAAAH...!!"
Barely alive meant limbs shattered by rocks—ability-rebuilt body agony. Double torture: rolling infirmary floor all day. Better than dung pit, but "worse than death?" Maybe.
"Heh, Commander—tough it out! Screaming like a bearded date hit by poison arrow."
"UAAAGH, you psycho fuck...!! How the hell do those ability users endure this...!!"
Efficiency-max psycho medic excelled at lump-sum lifetime pain. ...Yeah, I'm dragging the healing slow on purpose.
Elite perks or not, they'd tried wrangling him before. Grudge-hoarding nutjob wouldn't miss payback.
Humiliated him? Rage bank's interest: gout-level agony.
"C'mon, endure... or want speed? I could sloppy-stitch and bail."
"YES?!"
Doc at heart, offers faster fix...
"Then natural healing in your ragdoll corpse?"
"NOOO—!!"
Blame himself for pissing off a total psycho. Top dog out? Next in line handles discharge reports.
"Commander absent—Ops Officer acting. I'll see off today's discharges."
"Solidarity! Thanks for your service!"
Kim Chomo's sendoff went to the major ops officer. Army weeds out troublemakers young—duty-bound boss who ran ops room tight.
Smiling farewell to the ace who'd aced their reckless ops.
"Long-ass ride."
Dragged in as private, suffered as corporal, obsessed as sergeant. Unpredictable service ended.
"Ah, fuck... he's out, I've got a year left. Goddamn dad's dogtags."
Jeong Il-hwan eyed him enviously from gate duty.
"I'm gone—!! You're stuck—!!"
"...Platoon leader, got a guy here who ate bad pills. Can I just shoot?"
- ...Leave him. Haven't you heard discharges go bipolar for a day?
Ten minutes of assholery at the gate to rub it in, Kim Chomo grinned at the scowl, boarded subway to his pad.
"Fuck this stink-ass uniform—never again, not a second. Achoo!"
Stripped it ASAP, swapped to summer tank-top shorts despite weather—caught legendary post-discharge cold.
"Yeah, celebrate your discharge. I'll make you realize it was all a dream."
Society won't free good slaves easy. Failed inside? Law's noose next.
"Ability users are society's shield! Ain't we at war?!"
"Uh... but rounding up fresh discharges like this?"
"GAAAH!!! Ignoring national defense makes you traitors!!"
Suit brass who'd dodged service dropped "Ability User Retention Act"—tacit approval review.
"...What? These fuckers?!"
Cold-ridden youth, ice pack on head, prepping for college fun—disaster.
"Fuck, what the hell? Live as soldiers forever?!"
One-year-left complacency? Realized it's life sentence. Gate-front hothead: future plans crushed.
"Heh, look at these clowns—no clue."
Psycho doc crushed walnut watching live—populist idiots clueless.
Reactions varied, but proposers got backlash everywhere.
"Constitutional ban on forced labor in the 21st century?!"
"...Ugh, but the country..."
"Constitution's the foundation—ignore it, no roots! Roots!"
Not all pols short-sighted idiots—Korea'd be gone. Non-ability votes split populism fails badges.
Lawmakers split, parents turned.
"What if my kid awakens? Stuck in army forever?"
"...Yeah? Don't want my kid suffering?!"
Awakening hits anytime—not baby stamps. Teens/youths popping powers—parent panic.
"Lock kid's future evil law, OUT!!"
Open opposition crushes election hopes—better.
"...Poll says what?"
"Sir, this won't fly. Narrow it."
Silent neutrals sharpen knives till election—who knows flips. Worst: "fuck you" votes tank districts.
"Profit... then recall discharged unit vets ok?!"
"We baited extreme for crisis—you knew?!" Shifted quick, big picture sell.
"...If my kid's safe, not bad."
"No oppose votes, we negotiate?"
Softened policy announced: "Crisis now..." success.
"Touch medical officers, no fun..."
"Y-yeah, revert that—focus saving lives!"
"Watching. Don't wanna cadaver-ize."
Last hurdle cleared, "Temporary Recall Act" passed. Youth sacrifices—society cheers champagne.
"Oh yeah? But we hate it, fuckers?"
"W-who?!"
"Fresh-out thugs from ability units, discharge-dreaming grunts?"
Violence-prone thought different. More pain after suffering? Human?
"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HAPPINESS ON THIS PLANET, YOU GODDAMN BASTARDS?!"
Divided active ability users as foes? Pay up.
"Why monsters here... AHH—!! Fire! Fire!"
"Recon clear?! Gate recon lead—who?!"
Mixed units: non-ability casualties spiked. No-shows on recon/block/lure.
"Think our service is rubber clay? Ours stretches too."
"More cameras then... Can't discharge, why hustle?"
Gate-plug miracles: ditch fights if risky.
"Grr...!! Mixed recon with non-abilities."
'Watchers make 'em try'?
"Sorry, regulars can't keep up."
"...What?"
"Even weak users aura-boost. How chase?"
Not all Chomo-level enhancers—even basics aura-body.
"One bikes, one runs—possible?"
Speed/stamina gap: non-powers arrive post-recon.
No full mech? Pipe dream.
"Bodycams then! Blame clear!"
- OH. SHIT. FUCK! CRACK!
Enhancers dodged/ blocked attacks—smashed cams as shields.
"What is this?"
"Heat ability on plastic? Why bitch at me—brainless?"
Jeong Il-hwan-types fried cams innate.
"Wear this..."
Crack!
"Red Sun. Forget all this."
"...Hehe, why'm I here...?"
Mind-users zapped watchers easy.
Sabotage hits: ex-honey-suckers suffer.
"Crazy selfish fucks ignoring nation!!"
"Hey! Watch it! You too, ease up..."
Fixers flail to cure "termite" mindset.
"That tone ok? We're gentlemen."
"...What?"
Just "soft supporters" or "control ok, force no"—taste-test trolling.
"When'd my surname become Park? Han Gundo's life story? Mine?!"
"Defy national call?"
True hardliners not revved yet—too early death rattles.
1=1 youth: force demands equal harvest.
"Yeah. Defy, you fucking prick! Die!"
VRRROOOOM—!!
Kim Chomo's bullshit button roared red-hot.