Lakefront Night (9), Santa Margarita Lake

After the communications ended, the squad leaders gathered for a final meeting.

The defensive line set by Jeffrey ran along the river banks and onto the hills. Troops were distributed following the watershed. There was no choice but to assume the risk of being struck by lightning. They had to secure the high ground. This way, they could spot the enemy more easily and also create a safe rear area.

At the center of the rear area was the engineer office. The top priority was protecting the civilian survivors.

With a waterproof tactical map before them, Jeffrey confided his worries to Gyeo-ul.

"The problem is, Captain Harris' troops... no, the enemy's separate detachment might appear from the west, across the river. If that happens, our rear base will be completely exposed. The civilians will be the first to become victims."

"Is that really possible?"

"If they use the forest to bypass our defensive line to the north, they could cross over via the dam, right? We don't have enough troops to deploy even that far."

"Jeffrey, you didn't listen properly at the briefing before we set out, did you?"

"Huh?"

"The Salinas Dam. There's no passageway over the bypass channel. You can't get across there. It's exactly why we circled around on this side instead."

"Oh. Damn. I forgot."

Jeffrey slapped his forehead. Usually, dams have a way across at the top, but the Salinas Dam was an exception. The common evaluation that it was sloppily built was unexpectedly accurate.

"There's still a possibility though."

Sergeant Liberman pointed to the southern edge of the lake on the map.

"This lake isn't all that popular as a vacation spot, but there's still one marina here. I can't be certain, but there may be a few boats abandoned at the dock. They could use them to cross the lake and land on the opposite shore."

Gyeo-ul countered.

"I don't know about that. You think anyone could cross the lake by boat in this wind and rain? The waves have to be high. And even if they did, there's still a problem. They'd have to circle all the way around the lake to get here. It's four kilometers with a mountain in between. We don't know which direction the mutant groups might appear from. Can we really split our troops that way?"

The sergeant hesitated for a moment, then pointed at a bend upstream of the river.

"They might try a rope crossing, like we did. Anyway, since this is the upstream section, there's bound to be a spot where they can cross if they look. In fact, now that I think about it, this route seems more likely than crossing the lake. It'd take less time, too."

"So, Sergeant, what do you suggest?"

"You're important, Lieutenant."

"Me?"

"Yes. Lead the reserve squad and go on the offensive."

At that, Jeffrey looked displeased.

"Wait? No, Sergeant. We're already spread thin as it is, and the gaps between squads are wide. If the platoon were at full strength, maybe, but we need at least one reserve squad. That's how we plug breaches in the line and maintain rear security. What about the civilians if they slip out of control?"

The sergeant stuck to his opinion.

"One First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul's combat ability can, depending on the situation, match an entire company. I think it's better to let you take the offensive, rather than keeping you on defense. What do you think, Lieutenant?"

"I see your point. I think it's best to act aggressively."

Gyeo-ul was talking not about tactics, but about the enemy's psychology.

"Captain Harris' soldiers must be in poor shape. Both physically and mentally. For over a month they haven't been resupplied, have massacred civilians, and have been hunting down the remaining survivors. Why would any of them still follow the captain? What's their motivation?"

Jeffrey asked,

"You mean their morale is low?"

"Yes. I imagine they've only had one thing to cling to: kill all the witnesses and join up with another base. That one hope is probably how they've held out so far. But now, suddenly, things have gotten even worse. They're fighting other Americans."

"We're not happy about it either, but the stress they're under must be way worse."

"Exactly. Another thing: these people aren't fighting out of duty like we are. They just want to erase the evidence of the crimes they've committed. Do you think they can really throw themselves into combat? I doubt it."

After listening to the young officer, Sergeant Liberman let out a sigh.

"You're right. We can't expect things like missions or self-sacrifice for the sake of comrades."

"Agreed. If we handle this right, we could even overturn the whole engagement."

At this point, Jeffrey changed his stance too.

"Since it's a night operation, they might misjudge our numbers. If they end up being attacked instead, it could throw them into chaos. Oh, right—the meerkat. They know we have a meerkat, but don't know what it really is. That might make them think another unit has reinforced us."

Gyeo-ul pointed at the map again.

"I'll head here first. I'll block the expected enemy crossing point, then, if shooting starts or we spot the enemy, I'll push in from the east. Jeffrey, just hold out here."

"Understood. Let's do it. But don't take too long, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Haaa. How did things end up like this?"

The meeting ended with Jeffrey's lament. Gyeo-ul referred to Jeffrey's tactical map and jotted down the locations where he wanted to set up traps on his own map. Even a brief glance was enough to activate the augmented reality UI for support.

Before heading out, he changed the radio frequency. Gyeo-ul said,

"No need to maintain radio silence, since the Trickster has definitely given us a heading."

Jeffrey nodded.

"We'll only use it at the crucial moment, otherwise the enemy could discover our frequency. Maybe we should change the frequency again at midnight."

"Sounds good."

Gyeo-ul memorized the frequency Jeffrey suggested.

"I'm heading out. Jeffrey, good luck."

"You be careful too, Lieutenant. The more skillful and brave a person is, the more careful they must be."

Jeffrey saluted Gyeo-ul.

Elliot and the six reserve squad members set off after the young officer. Considering a standard US infantry squad had nine men, it was a small number. There had been no reinforcements for quite some time.

The squad moved downstream along the river. Near the bend—where the remnants of an old bridge could be seen—Gyeo-ul raised his fist. The squad members scattered and took cover. Gyeo-ul extended two fingers, pointing south. Seven barrels aimed to the south.

'Quicker than I expected.'

From the direction they were watching, seventeen soldiers were moving north. They showed no complacency. With half giving cover while the remainder advanced, it was proper tactical movement. "Rotten as they are, they're still US Army,"

Gyeo-ul thought. But aside from that, their condition was poor.

'Their movements are sluggish.'

Each time they advanced, they seemed to struggle. Some didn't even have ponchos. They looked like they'd die of hypothermia if left alone. Gyeo-ul glanced at his squad. As expected, everyone looked uneasy. Apparently, seeing the state of the enemy was shaking them.

"Elliot."

At Gyeo-ul's call, the squad leader turned to him, a storm cloud on his face.

"Captain Harris isn't in that group. I'm going to urge them to surrender first."

"... I'm sorry."

That one phrase summed up everyone's feelings. Gyeo-ul urged them,

"This is their last chance. If I shoot, engage immediately."

"Understood."

Gyeo-ul crawled a short distance away from his squad, leaned against another tree, and took a deep breath.

"Freeze!"

The enemy soldiers moving north flinched. Some hit the ground, others ducked behind trees. Tatatatang! Someone on their side fired a shot, and that set off a volley of gunfire. A broken branch dropped onto Gyeo-ul's head.

On the riverbank filled with mist, gunfire sounded even colder.

Wind sliced by with a ripping sound. Bpowk, pff. Bullets crashed heavily into the ground.

Beams of light swept across—tracers. With burning trajectories, these rounds silhouetted the firing line in the dark for the shooters. Gyeo-ul saw the streaks bounce off the water's surface.

The shooting didn't last long. Maybe they thought it was odd not to get any return fire.

'They must be worried about conserving ammo.'

It didn't matter. The bursts became less frequent and finally ceased. In the sharp silence, Gyeo-ul called out again.

"I am First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul! Who's in charge over there? State your rank and name!"

A split reply came back after a moment.

"Goddamn it, are you really him?!"

"Rank and name!"

"... Linska, walter Linska, Sergeant!"

The truth was, Gyeo-ul's voice alone would have sufficed to prove his identity. The young officer's combat records, videos from the battles at Atascadero and Santa Maria, were now being used as training material everywhere.

A thunderclap rolled out, hollow and silent. It came from the direction of the engineer office. Gyeo-ul quickly shouted,

"Sergeant Linska! Drop your weapons! I don't want to fight you!"

The sergeant howled,

"If we drop our weapons! Then what?! Is it BigBroJungshin for us after a court-martial?!"

On hearing this, Gyeo-ul felt this was a bad case. The sergeant didn't seem to think he'd be executed. But that was in fact true. The US did not sentence soldiers who massacred civilians to death. In other words, the sergeant knew he wouldn't be killed but still wanted to keep killing people because he couldn't face a life sentence.

Gyeo-ul confirmed the sergeant's position.

He was unfamiliar with addressing someone so forcefully, but kept shouting hard.

"Whatever punishment you get! It's better than dying here and now!"

"Fuck! Bullshit! The one who dies—we'll see who that is!"

At that moment, a chill swept down every nerve ending. Despite Survival Sense and Danger Detection both warning him, Gyeo-ul didn't budge.

Bang!

The answer came in the form of a grenade. But its landing was far off. The aim was bad, and the slow-moving grenade was caught by the strong wind.

"Fire! Fire!"

Elliot, with a roar filled with rage, gave the order to fire back. Muzzles flared in the darkness.

The difference in firepower was clear. Using fire superiority, Sergeant Linska sent some of his troops surging forward. Gyeo-ul aimed instantly. Of nine rounds fired in four bursts, seven hit.

The leading soldier crumpled from two headshots. But he got up again, unable to keep his balance, blood pouring from the gap in his helmet.

Then he toppled again. This time, he didn't get up.

Even those not hit pressed flat, desperately crawling for cover.

Gyeo-ul, instead, abandoned cover. Sprinting at an angle, he locked onto a soldier about to throw a grenade. Ratatat! A three-shot burst raked across the enemy's body armor. The shock knocked him over. He dropped the grenade, fumbling wildly.

Boom.

His arms were blown in opposite directions.

Gunfire concentrated on Gyeo-ul. Some streaks in the frantic hail of bullets were dangerous. Rolling over, Gyeo-ul hit the ground. Thud—the impact of hitting the dirt. Even while rolling, clods of earth kicked up by bullets pelted him. A ricochet struck his helmet.

Rising with the momentum of the roll, Gyeo-ul sprinted 20 meters, then skidded to his knees. Sssk! He twisted, pressing his back against a tree. Two grenades exploded along his trail. The close shockwaves rattled him. Shrapnel stung. Several small wounds blossomed on his limbs, two on his face. Two streaks of blood ran down his right cheek.

Gyeo-ul fired back.

Rattattat! Ratatat!

Metallic clacks. Ejected casings thudded into the wet earth.

The enemies were panicking. Because Gyeo-ul had popped out to the side, their cover was now threatened. Busy just trying to protect themselves from crossfire, their formation fell apart. There was someone who stayed back, driving the others forward.

'Sergeant Linska.'

Gyeo-ul dropped back into cover. He tore open a grenade clip, pulled the pin. Waiting for a lull in the barrage, he launched his body and, spinning, threw it. The grenade flew straight.

Thwack! The sergeant was hit by the grenade. Explosion followed. Within the blast radius, a person was blown apart. Red, skinned flesh burst into the air.

He hoped the shock would rattle the troops.

Resistance crumbled in real time. It was a desperate bid for survival. Seemed they were burning through all their firepower—but apart from rifles, all they had were grenades and grenade launchers.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

Gyeo-ul shouted as loud as he could, hoping the enemy would obey.

But the gunfire did not stop.

---------------------------= Author's Note ---------------------------=

Q. qoewh: @The more the story progresses, the more drawn in I feel. It doesn't feel like fiction, but rather that the writer somehow recorded real events from somewhere else and posted them on Joara. That's why Gyeo-ul's actions don't feel like "it's just a novel," but more like I'm watching real events unfold. So even the soldiers killed by traps are pitiful, and the way Doc cares for the pregnant woman as if nothing happened seems remarkable. They're probably extras in the novel, but recently I feel like there's not much difference between me and the in-universe viewers. Gyeo-ul is a subject who creates and reveals the story, just like the author. I realized something: I'll give you 100,000 won in support coupons, so please write another risqué scene with Gyeo-ul getting some action!! Please!!!

A. That "immersed" feeling was mentioned in viewer chat, wasn't it? In fact, I integrate it into the narration too. Haven't you noticed that, at some point, there's been less systematic description from the game mechanics?

And you can't buy Gyeo-ul's chastity with money. :)

Q. Mastercalsolum: @Oh... you're dining out while worshipping FSM? As an honorary disciple and chef, I can commune with the Spaghetti Lord even in the most humble kitchen. Six servings cost about 10,000 won. May you be blessed.

A. I cook for myself sometimes too but... for some reason, ingredients cost a lot and it's hard to make. Haha.

Q. 清流蓮: @Thanks for another great chapter! The weather forecast says three typhoons are skipping Korea and heading toward Japan. Is that what you call the "Old Thing Effect"?

A. Well, the "Old Thing Effect" manifests in all sorts of ways. Electricity price surcharges, north Korean nuclear tests, readers failing at love...

Q. twking5008: @Author, what blessings do you bestow with tribute (first sponsorship coupon)? Over at Chiguttoa, they say you're pretty generous.

A. My well of innocence has dried up, so blessings are hard to come by... At best, maybe more than five updates a week.

Three updates a week is about my limit, though... hehe...

Q. Quieate: @Does Gyeo-ul's story end with "post-apocalypse" + "reality"? Or do you plan to go further? Hard to ask without spoilers.

A. It's really hard to answer without spoiling things. For now, yes. Though maybe not in the way you expect.

Q. Dohawon: @Tough guy Han Gyeo-ul. Your heart must be restored, author!

A. No way. My heart's been drained for ages. I'm on a loan from Dreamland Innocence Bank...

Q. MartialArtsNovelFan: @I thought, author, since you hope for innocence-filled necrophilia, you'd also like profanity, but that disappoints me. Hmph.. I'll just compliment you—cool Han Gyeo-ul.

A. My mentality is like glass—a single touch and I'll shatter. Handle with care! Fragile!

Q. RGZ95: @There's an event coming full of innocence! What kind of event could it be? @[email protected] Does it involve refugees?

A. That's coming up later and on a bigger scale.