Unknown time, Jujak-gate, Hwaryeong-gok

  The red gate was wide enough for the hunters to enter in rows of ten. It took only a few seconds to cross from the year 2039 into an unknown time. Yoon Taeha marched at the front with the other southern leaders, eyes fixed ahead. He ignored the tension in his chest and focused on moving forward, keeping his fear concealed so the others wouldn’t see it.

  He had told his mother he would quit being a hunter after this, that this would be his last mission. It had been a lie, but it was the only way to leave them behind without worry.

  The heat of the dungeon hit them the moment they stepped through. Their hunter suits adjusted instantly, nanotechnology stabilizing their body temperature as designed. Jujak gates were always tied to fire, and this one was no exception. Still, the suits only protected them from minor burns. They weren’t shields.

  The dungeon was nothing like Taeha had imagined. He had expected something close to biblical descriptions of hell, but this was darker in a different way. The canyon stretched out before them, its rock walls rising unevenly on both sides. Above them, the sky was cloudless and blood-red, pressing down.

  Dark as it was, the scenery wasn’t terrifying. It was the sound of it, or the lack of it. The dungeon was silent. There was no wind. No movement. Only heat.

  On command, the hunters gathered into formation, the sound of their boots cracking stone beneath their feet fading in the thick air. The leaders regrouped near the front. Taeha counted them once. Then again.

  General Han wasn’t there.

  His chest tightened immediately. He hadn’t imagined it. Afraid of overstepping, he said nothing and waited for someone else to speak up. No one did. Still, he noticed Kwon Jeonhak eyeing the group, his gaze moving from hunter to hunter. When his eyes met Taeha’s, there was no confusion there. Taeha gave a short nod and turned back.

  “This is not what we expected,” Chief Seo said. “There are no beasts.”

  Whispers spread through the ranks behind them. Taeha couldn’t make out individual words, but he knew what they were saying. There was a dangerous sense of relief, one he knew wouldn’t last. When the whispers died down, the silence returned. The hunters noticed the tension on their leaders’ faces, and their relief drained quickly.

  “The fact that they haven’t shown themselves yet makes this worse,” Captain Ri said. “They’re preparing for something.”

  Ri Seong-ho sounded calm. This wasn’t his first gate.

  “Probably to chew us up,” Kwon Jeonhak said, stretching his arms behind his neck like he was warming up. Almost relaxed.

  Taeha felt it before he saw it.

  His nerves snapped as a sharp surge cut through the air behind Jeonhak, burning. Taeha reacted without thinking. He hooked an arm around Jeonhak’s chest and yanked him down.

  “Incoming attack!”

  A vermilion bird surged past where Jeonhak’s head had been a second earlier. Jeonhak snapped back up and turned around. Black particles burst from his hand, wrapping around the bird mid-flight.

  “Bang,” he whispered, grinning.

  The bird exploded into ash, but more followed.

  The leaders broke off toward their troops, shouting commands as the birds charged in fast, cutting through the air. Hunters rolled aside to dodge, shields flaring just in time, sparks flying as flames struck. Flying-type hunters surged upward, intercepting the birds before they could reach the ground units.

  The birds were fast, but the S- and A-class hunters didn’t panic. They moved on instinct, dodging as they had been trained, covering one another without hesitation.

  Yoon Taeha pulled out his Havoc and fired, like abeast himself, adjusting his stance and firing again. His eyes scanned the troops, searching for the general, waiting for orders.

  But no orders came.

  He wasn’t here.

  “Stop looking for him,” Jeonhak called as he detonated another bird. “You’re in charge of Seoul now.”

  Taeha’s jaw tightened. His grip locked around his weapon before he shoved it back into his monitor.

  “Fuck,” he gritted his teeth, pulling out the HX-9 Hydra Launcher. “I did not sign up for this.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m giving you the role now,” Jeonhak said. “After all, I outrank you. Take care!”

  He sprinted forward, black particles spreading beneath his feet, forming bridges as he leaped. The particles moved like an extension of him, shaping into long ribbons that wrapped around three birds at once.

  “Bang!” Jeonhak laughed. They vanished into dust.

  Yoon Taeha couldn’t stand still. Jeonhak had just placed their combined forces in his hands.

  Before he could speak, Chief Seo rushed toward him.

  “Lieutenant, take command of the Seoul troops,” she said. “Jeju and Busan will cover you so you can go deeper into the canyon. We’re not getting anywhere standing by the gate.”

  “Roger!” Taeha answered sharply. “Seoul, move in!”

  The unit responded instantly, shifting formation as they advanced. Ri Seong-ho flew down beside Taeha.

  “Pyongyang calling,” he said with a quick grin.

  “Captain,” Taeha said, “can you back me up? I need forces guarding the gate while Jeju and Busan hold the beasts.”

  “We’ll split the northern troops,” Seong-ho replied. “Half stay, half follow.”

  He caught Taeha’s forearm and pulled him in close, his grip firm.

  “We’ve got this.”

  Taeha held his gaze for a brief moment. A moment of comfort, of certainty that they would get out of the gate alive.

  “Let’s go!” Taeha shouted. The hunters moved forward, trusting the Lieutenant.

  The canyon ahead narrowed and widened in an uneven pattern. Their formation shifted constantly, never staying the same, but it didn’t matter as long as they kept moving. Ri Seong-ho flew above them, leaping between the canyon walls.

  Vermilion birds circled above them, waiting for a chance to surge, but the flyers shielded the ground units.

  Behind them, Busan and Jeju held the gate, northern hunters standing firm to make sure no beast got out.

  Taeha glanced back one last time at the red gate burning in the distance.

  Their run slowed to a walk as they entered a large opening. It looked like a field, far more hell-like than before, with flame barricades surrounding it on all sides. Standing before them was an empty gate frame, as if it had remained untouched for centuries, nothing but fire encircling it.

  The vermilion birds appeared out of nowhere. They were suddenly surrounded by the beasts, wings flapping violently, but they didn’t attack.

  Ri Seong-ho hovered above the ground troops, tracking the birds’ movements. He was focused, just as he had been taught in the north, just as Taeha had been taught. He adjusted his position to match the formation below. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jeonhak mirroring his movements, backing him up without a word. They weren’t speaking, but their thoughts were the same.

  Yoon Taeha knew it was coming. It was as if he could read the beasts’ thoughtless minds.

  “Prepare yourselves,” he said, his voice low but loud enough for the men to hear.

  The surge came in a split second, all of them attacking at once.

  Seong-ho surged forward, shifting between the beasts, cutting them down and signaling directions to Kwon Jeonhak for his detonations. He could predict the southern hunters’ attacks, staying out of their range while taking down the birds that slipped past Jeonhak’s particles. It was quiet and effortless teamwork.

  The hunters dodged and attacked in patterns the birds couldn’t predict. These men were no amateurs.

  Covered by the others, Yoon Taeha pulled out his Hydra and fired. Jeonhak ignited his particles, taking the birds down one by one, laughing as if he was enjoying himself.

  “You always fight like this?” Seong-ho called out.

  “Only when the beasts are ugly!” Jeonhak yelled back in glee.

  “Pfft, figures,” Seong-ho laughed.

  Watching Jeonhak’s movements, Seong-ho dived into the fun of the fight. He flew toward a bird charging head-on, pulled out his twin swords, and struck its neck. His hand burned, but he didn’t stop. He tossed the swords aside and drew two handguns, taking the remaining beasts down from a distance. The bullets tore through them violently.

  “Smart,” Jeonhak muttered, noticing Seong-ho’s weapon switch.

  Seong-ho exhaled, thinking he could finally slow down.

  “Captain!” Jeonhak shouted suddenly, eyes fixed on him.

  Too late.

  He was surrounded by three beasts at once, preparing to surge.

  “Motherfuckers,” Seong-ho muttered.

  He heard the shot before he saw it, and one bird dropped from the sky. An explosion followed, taking another down, leaving him face to face with one of them. His shot landed so fast the bird didn’t even have time to spread its wings.

  “Are you trying to make me deaf, or what’s your business, Colonel?” Seong-ho snapped.

  “Someone has to watch your back,” Jeonhak replied. “You’re too reckless!”

  “At least I’m not burning things for my own enjoyment, you crazy pyromantic lunatic!”

  “Just say ‘thanks’ and get on with it, Captain!” Kwon Jeonhak laughed.

  Ri Seong-ho couldn’t help but smile.

  “You southern bastards.”

  “Is that really how you speak to a comrade?” Jeonhak grinned from the ground. Ri Seong-ho landed just long enough to give him a fist bump.

  “You fight like you mean it,” Jeonhak said.

  “So do you,” Seong-ho replied. “Guess we really are on the same side.” He paused, then added with a thick northern accent, “Take care of me in the future too.”

  Even though he was in charge now, Yoon Taeha kept looking for the General. He hoped he’d been wrong this whole time, that the man would appear any moment, saying he had been taking down beasts behind them. There had to be a reason he wasn’t around. He wouldn’t abandon them like that.

  Kwon Jeonhak appeared beside him.

  “You need to forget about him.”

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  “But what if he—”

  “If he were here, we would have seen him,” Jeonhak said, glancing around at the hunters fighting the birds with everything they had. “I really want to say I can’t blame him, but—” He paused. “—but he is a coward after all.”

  Yoon Taeha gritted his teeth, refusing to believe their friend would abandon them like this. They had promised to fight together.

  He slapped himself once to snap out of it and turned back to his men.

  Yoon Taeha turned toward the direction of the gate as he heard running steps coming toward them. The sudden movement tightened his chest, but when the Jeju and Busan troops entered the field, he exhaled in relief. There were no birds following them. Taeha ran to meet the incoming hunters. It was comfort in chaos. No vermilion birds were chasing them.

  “Status check,” he said as he scanned their faces, trying to count them, as if he recognized them all. He didn’t, and the realization made him feel guilty.

  “We lost some,” an S-class hunter from Jeju answered, breathing hard. “But most of us made it.”

  Taeha looked around, searching for someone.

  “Where’s Chief Seo?”

  The hunter’s jaw tightened. He bit his lower lip and looked away, eyes fixed on the ground. For a moment, he didn’t answer. Taeha stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” Taeha said.

  “She protected us,” the hunter finally replied. “She turned herself into a shield. Used up everything she had.” His voice trembled. “The birds tore through her.”

  Taeha clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist. If Chief Seo had fallen, what chance did the others stand? He swallowed the thought before it could show on his face. He couldn’t let the men see him waver. If anything, he had to protect what was left of their spirits.

  He didn’t get the chance to say anything else.

  The ground beneath them began to tremble. The shaking was steady, growing stronger by the second.

  The birds stopped moving, and both their gazes, and the hunters’, shifted toward the empty gate frame, now igniting along its edges. The ground shook like an earthquake as the guardian emerged from the cracks.

  “Captain!” Yoon Taeha called to Seong-ho, who flew to his side immediately. “Call the northern troops. We’re going to need all the manpower we can get.”

  Seong-ho saw the fear in Taeha’s eyes and only nodded, careful not to add to it. He lifted his wrist to call the troops through his watch, but nothing happened. He frowned and tried again.

  No response.

  He glanced quickly at Taeha, hoping he hadn’t noticed, then turned to his monitor and began clicking through commands. Nothing connected.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  More footsteps cut through the tension.

  The northern hunters rushed into the field, weapons already raised. Ri Seong-ho exhaled in relief. Taeha saw it at the same time and let out a slow breath of his own.

  A hunter from Hamhung reported in, speaking quickly in his northern accent.

  “No birds left by the gate. We assumed the outer teams would handle anything that broke through, so we moved in.”

  “They’re too distracted with us now,” Taeha said. His voice was steady, even as the heat of the dungeon intensified. “And if anything gets out, we trust the troops outside to take it down.”

  The guardian was in full view.

  Jujak stood at the center of the field, its massive body wrapped in its own wings like armor, still in slumber. Heat waves rolled off it, blurring the air. For a normal person, the temperature would have been deadly, but the hunters were protected by both genes and technology.

  Starting from the guardian, the cracked ground beneath them blackened, spreading outward, reaching every footprint left behind.

  No birds moved. No hunters moved. But Taeha knew it was only a matter of time before the beast fully awakened.

  He couldn’t tell how long they had been standing there.

  Minutes? No, maybe hours.

  Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like minutes inside the gates. Time didn’t exist here the same way it did outside. For all he knew, they had already been trapped far longer than they realized.

  The fear in Taeha’s eyes shifted into fury as he prepared himself for what was coming. He felt it in his bones, Jujak’s intent. It wasn’t sleeping, it was waiting. And it wanted to kill.

  Any moment now.

  “Get ready,” Taeha commanded.

  Jujak’s eyes snapped open.

  Its scream tore through the field. Hunters cried out in pain, clutching their ears as if their eardrums were about to burst. Formations broke as balance was lost; several dropped to one knee. With a single motion, Jujak spread its wings wide, shattering the gate frame behind it into fragments.

  The guardian rose into the air, flames cascading from its body.

  It was massive. Bigger than anything they had ever faced. And it was awake.

  With the guardian awake, the vermilion birds’ attacks became twice as aggressive as before. Their leader had manifested, yet it remained still, flapping its wings in the heated air of the dungeon. Each movement of those massive wings sent bursts of hot wind across the field, throwing hunters off balance. Breathing became harder with every passing minute.

  Unlike most hunters, Kwon Jeonhak didn’t wait for the birds to attack. Instead, he rushed toward them, determined to take them down. He leaped forward, using his particles as a base, detonating birds as they came. Black mass spread and snapped back at his command. But they were endless. No matter how many were taken down, more replaced them almost immediately. It was like fighting the hydra, cut one down, and two more took its place.

  Jeonhak was mid-attack in the air when he felt bird claws tear through the back of his uniform. He was carried upward, soaring helplessly as heat burned through the torn fabric. Without hesitation, he wrapped his particles around the beast and detonated it with a single snap of his fingers.

  He was falling, feet first, when Ri Seong-ho caught him mid-air. It looked like Jeonhak had trusted he would.

  “Man,” Jeonhak said breathlessly as Seong-ho got them back on the ground, “you didn’t even give me a chance to panic.”

  “Glad to be of help,” Seong-ho replied.

  “This is why I love you northerners. Always so helpful.” Jeonhak patted his shoulder, still laughing as he caught his breath.

  “You don’t know how loyal we can be to our own people,” Seong-ho answered.

  For a brief moment, Kwon Jeonhak felt warmth, not the kind burning their surroundings, but something inside him. He had forgotten how, in this rare moment, hunters who had barely tolerated each other before had come together as one. Finally proving the point of unification. Even the hunter standing in front of him now, once just another soldier, had become a comrade. A friend.

  “You know what?” Jeonhak said suddenly, grinning. “I wouldn’t mind dying next to a northerner.”

  Taeha rushed toward them.

  “Do you have a new northern bestie?” he asked, his voice almost jealous.

  “Don’t worry,” Jeonhak shot back. “I’m not breaking up with you.

  “I’m just gonna stay here as a third wheel,” Ri Seong-ho added. “I don’t mind.” He gave a small laugh before lifting back into the air.

  No matter how helpless the situation seemed, everyone was working together. It didn’t matter where the hunters came from, north or south, they covered one another instinctively, grabbing, lifting, shielding. No one was left behind if it could be helped.

  Ranks and hunter classes meant nothing anymore. Their only purpose was to defeat the beast, to close the gate, and to stay alive.

  Nothing was certain.

  The attacks were too fast. Too strong. Even with the strongest troops of the Unified Republic in action, men were falling. Some were injured, screaming for help. Others lay still, beyond saving. Those who still had potions used them without hesitation, but potions alone weren’t enough. They were bandages where the men needed miracles.

  Yoon Taeha’s gaze swept across the field, shifting from wounded hunters on the ground to the birds circling above. Vermilion birds grabbed hunters mid-fight and threw them back down for sport. They weren’t hunting. This was a cruel game, and they were certain they would win.

  Taeha refused to become bird prey. He charged forward.

  “Captain!” he shouted toward Seong-ho. “Lift me up!”

  In one swift movement, Yoon Taeha was off his feet, thrown into the air. At the same time, he pulled two long swords from his monitor, gripping them tightly as he closed in. The birds had become too fast to shoot down from the ground. His Hydra was useless now, and the Havoc couldn’t reach far enough. The only option left was to fight them head-on. His attacks grew more aggressive, reckless, even.

  Ri Seong-ho landed Taeha back on the ground and immediately moved to help Jeonhak again, lifting him higher and faster. Jeonhak didn’t struggle to lift himself, but Seong-ho made him faster, giving him more chances to blow them up.

  That was when Taeha realized it. They were the only three leaders left.

  The thought hit him harder than any blow. He had to stay in command, while praying someone else would take over.

  He raised his voice, shouting commands across the field to anyone who would listen, directing, calling, ordering. Some responded instantly. Others didn’t.

  He couldn’t blame them. At this point, they were only trying to survive.

  Something charged at him at full speed. Taeha barely managed to block it with a shield formed through his monitor. It was a rare skill, but the shield wasn’t durable enough. The impact didn’t kill him, but it threw him onto his back. He hit the ground hard having the air knocked out of him.

  Pain tore through him. Shattered ribs ripped at muscle. His vision blurred as he coughed blood, but he refused to stay down. He forced himself up as fast as his body allowed.

  He pulled out the HX-13 Anvil. The heaviest weapon in his inventory. The weapon was slow to aim but brutal to fire. Every shot that landed erased its target completely.

  This was the first time he had ever used it in action. He had always thought it would remain decoration in his inventory, dreading the day he’d have to rely on it. He had hoped the worst-case scenario would never come, and now it was in front of him.

  The slowness of the weapon left Taeha exposed and vulnerable to attacks between shots. Each recharge took time, but the blows were precise and fatal, meaning if they landed, the target never survived.

  Behind him, Ri Seong-ho continued lifting close-combat hunters toward the birds one by one. Exhausting his powers, his movements slowed, breathing growing heavier as his power drained too fast. Eventually, no one came to him anymore, urging him to conserve what strength he had left.

  But there was no chance Seong-ho would stop. He knew exactly where he was needed most.

  The Hamhung hunter from earlier was an element manipulator, fire, like the birds themselves, making him the only one who could get close without burning. Fighting fire with fire should have been useless, a non-zero sum. But with Seong-ho lifting him into position, it became something else entirely. Time and again, the man knocked birds from the sky, creating openings for others to strike.

  He must have taken down at least a dozen. Then a bird charged him head-on. There was no time to dodge. Claws tore through him, ripping his head from his body. The corpse hit the ground with a horrifying thump. Ri Seong-ho’s expression didn’t change. Inside, he was in pain. Inside, he wanted to scream.

  One hunter after another met the same fate, lifted into the air only to be smashed back down, reduced to nothing more than a junk of blood and flesh. Limbs scattered across the field as the birds tore through them. It was no longer horror. The sight was straight out of a gory movie. It didn’t have anything to do with horror anymore, only brutality.

  Ri Seong-ho searched desperately for Yoon Taeha through the carnage, dodging attacks he soared, until he spotted him on the ground with the Anvil, shielded by Kwon Jeonhak. No matter how powerful the weapon was, it couldn’t stop the weight crushing down on Taeha’s spirit.

  The earth shook again as the guardian awakened fully, whipping its wings and throwing bodies across the field. Weapons flew from loosened grips as hunters slammed into the ground. Bodies hit the ground hard, weapons flying from their grasps. Each time they tried to get up, another blast of wind sent them crashing back down.

  Jujak screamed.

  The sound was ear-crushing. Hunters clutched their heads, losing their balance as their ears rang, falling. Distracted with excruciating pain, the hunters were left exposed to the birds to attack them freely. The deaths that followed were not merciful. The birds understood no pleas, no prayers.

  Yoon Taeha tried to count the remaining hunters. Less than two-thirds were still standing. They had lost over a hundred soldiers in what felt like moments.

  They didn’t have a single moment to rest. There were no pauses or gaps between attacks. There was only movement and constant battle. Constant loss, that seemed never-ending.

  False. It would end when the last man fell.

  Whoever was still standing attacked. Each hunter fought with whatever ability they had left. Those with similar powers paired up, striking together, covering each other. Most shield users lay scattered across the ground, their bodies cold.

  Long-range hunters covered those with close-combat skills, firing over their heads, forcing openings for their attacks. They kept working together even as it became clear it wasn’t enough. Taeha looked at them; he really looked. Their bodies were full of burn marks and blood. Their expressions showed only desperation.

  Taeha knew not a single hunter there believed they were going home. But none of them had forgotten why they were there. None of them forgot their purpose, their mission.

  No matter how many times they tried to get close to the guardian, they were knocked down. Not a single scratch marked its body. Taeha could feel its joy as it watched the chaos unfold. For Jujak, they were nothing, like insects ready to be crushed. It was as if wanted to hear their bones break. The guardian was enjoying this.

  “Hunters!” Taeha yelled, reassessing the battlefield. “This is no longer an S-class gate.”

  It hadn’t been for a long time. It was all a miscalculation.

  “We entered thinking we were prepared,” he continued. “The strongest team of hunters in history.” His jaw tightened. “We expected casualties, but not a mass grave.”

  “The gate has shifted to SS-class. We need to use all our strength to take the beast down. It’s our only choice.” Gritting his teeth, he paused, knowing what he’d say next would sting and knowing exactly what his words would mean.

  “We’re not getting out of this alive,” he said. “But we will die knowing we saved the people outside the gate. Millions of them.”

  It wasn’t the most inspirational speech Taeha had made, but it was the most effective. There were no cheers to his words, but there were no cries either. But there was resolve.

  The hunters charged again. Their fates remained unchanged.

  Taeha dropped to the ground, bracing himself as he fired toward the guardian. What would annihilate vermilion birds barely scratched Jujak. Desperation crept in faster than ever.

  Kwon Jeonhak couldn’t get close enough to wrap the guardian in particles. Every approach was cut off. Forced back, he switched to long-range attacks, explosions shooting uselessly against the beast’s wings. Even his S-class ability wasn’t enough anymore.

  The dungeon darkened further. The blood-red sky dimmed, as if it truly might begin to rain blood.

  Yoon Taeha pushed himself upright, dropping to one knee. His weapon rested against the ground as it recharged. His shattered ribs broke his breath into shallow gasps. He wouldn’t be able to get up anymore. He knew he’d be spending his last fighting moments on the ground. But he wouldn’t waste them. He wouldn’t waste time on self-pity. He’d rather spend it protecting what was important to him.

  He felt it too late, the bird rushing from behind. Taeha barely managed to dodge it, twisting aside. Turning quickly back to his weapon, he saw another bird charging straight at him. It was too close and too fast. There was no time to move. Yoon Taeha closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his face, bracing himself. He knew this was it, his final moment. But the impact never landed.

  He felt something slamming into him. It was heavy and warm, but it didn’t kill him. He felt the slowing heartbeat against his chest, forcing him to finally open his eyes.

  Ri Seong-ho was leaning against him, his back pressed to Taeha’s chest. His abdomen had been torn open into a cavity.

  So this is it.

  Seong-ho had seen the bird coming. He had known he wouldn’t reach it in time to strike it down. But he had reached Taeha. He had blocked the attack. That had been enough.

  Figures. I always did move faster when it mattered.

  His life was a small price to pay for Yoon Taeha’s. Even Seong-ho knew, somewhere deep inside, that if someone should survive, it should be that small, northern omega.

  He’s stronger than he thinks.

  Seong-ho’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t feel pain anymore. He didn’t feel regret. He had done what he was sent to do, and he had done it to the best of his ability. This time it hadn’t been enough, but he wasn’t dying for nothing.

  You better live through this, Lieutenant.

  His vision blurred, but he saw the bird fly away, only for it to explode a moment later.

  Jeonhak’s aim is still shit.

  If he hadn’t been dying, he would have said it out loud. The thought almost made him smile. He felt calm.

  Seong-ho turned his head just enough for Taeha to see his face. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth. He coughed blood, emptying the last air left in his lungs.

  Still, he smiled playfully.

  “Hang in there, comrade.”

  He fell into Taeha’s arms.