Mireong walked toward Tilleo.
The closer she drew, the more the lingering heat and the putrid stench stung her nose.
There hardly seemed any need to check if he was still alive.
All that remained was charred flesh pressed and tangled into his black armor.
Mireong briefly furrowed her brow, then turned away.
“…Jincheong. Cover this spot with dirt.”
Jincheong nodded silently.
After a brief silence,
Mireong turned to look at Ailla.
“Redhead. That bastard’s your responsibility.”
Ailla snapped back immediately.
“Shut up. I was already going to.”
*Zzzt.*
Blue light surged through the chain once more.
“Gh…!”
Hadin’s body convulsed briefly.
A stifled groan leaked from beneath the mask.
Ailla wound the end of the chain shorter in her grip.
Her eyes were still frozen cold.
Mireong looked down at Hadin and spoke.
“Hey. Loosen the chain for a moment.”
“Restraints alone aren’t enough.”
Reimeon furrowed his brows.
Without so much as glancing his way, Mireong added.
“If we leave him like this, there’s no telling what he’ll try. Strip his armor first.”
Wollyeon and Jincheong immediately approached.
Ailla gripped the chain with no slack and pinned Hadin down.
As blue light flared through once more, Hadin’s body jerked and convulsed.
“Gh… ugh…”
A stifled groan leaked from beneath the mask.
Mireong said coldly.
“Looks like your mind’s still intact.”
Hadin tried to lift his head, but
Ailla’s chain coiled around his neck and shoulders, slamming him back against the ground.
“Move, and I’ll jolt you again.”
Ailla’s voice was low, but it was laced with killing intent.
Jincheong knelt and inspected the seams of the armor near Hadin’s shoulder.
Wollyeon moved to the opposite side, roughly cutting buckles and straps.
With the sound of scraping metal, the black armor began coming off piece by piece.
Hadin’s body squirmed.
“Don’t… touch…”
Before he could finish, cyan light surged through Ailla’s chain once more.
*Zzzt.*
“Krrgh—!”
Hadin’s back arched like a bow before crashing back into the ground.
Wollyeon grimaced.
“That’s brutal.”
Mireong replied coldly.
“It’s not about being brutal. It’s about being dangerous.”
Once the armor was half removed, Mireong looked down at Hadin’s arm.
“Jincheong. Pop his right shoulder.”
Jincheong didn’t hesitate in the slightest.
He bent Hadin’s right arm back to position it, then applied a short, rough burst of force.
*Crack.*
“Guaaaack!”
Hadin’s body twisted violently.
His dislocated right arm hung limply.
Mireong didn’t even change her expression.
“Good. Wolleyeon, grab his left wrist.”
Wollyeon grabbed his wrist and twisted it down,
and Mireong stamped on the area below his elbow with her foot.
*Snap.*
With that short, ominous sound, his left arm too was dislocated from its proper angle.
Hadin’s breath hitched roughly.
“Kuh… ugh… you damned…”
Ailla’s chain coiled around Hadin again.
“Shut your mouth.”
Blue light surged again,
and Hadin could only grit his teeth and tremble.
After confirming the sight, Mireong spoke briefly.
“Now he can’t use either arm.”
“He still has his legs, so don’t let your guard down. Keep the chain on him.”
Breathing heavily, Ailla nodded.
“I’m not letting go. Until he dies.”
Reimeon watched the scene with a grimace for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.
“…Is there any value in keeping him alive and bringing him with us?”
Mireong answered.
“For now, there is.”
She looked down at Hadin once more.
“If he won’t talk, we can decide then whether to dump him or kill him.”
Jincheong tossed the stripped pieces of black armor to one side.
Wollyeon pulled over the remaining straps and irons and bound Hadin’s body even tighter.
Now unable to use his black armor, his sword, or even his arms, Hadin lay on the ground like a bound beast, gasping for breath.
After a moment’s hesitation, Reimeon opened his mouth.
“But… earlier, that one whose face seemed to be burning… what in the world is he?”
He took a breath, choosing his words carefully.
“No… is he even human…?”
Mireong was briefly silent.
It was a brief silence, as if she were weighing whether to pretend she hadn’t heard or simply brush it off.
Then she shrugged.
“…Who knows.”
Her gaze briefly swept across the spot where Tilleo had lain,
and brushed over the bandages wrapping Bido’s chest.
“What does it matter? As long as he’s not an enemy.”
Even after hearing that answer, Reimeon couldn’t immediately continue.
A face wreathed in flames. A hand that had seized a sword with bare flesh.
And the heat that had burned through the mask as if melting it.
It was a sight difficult to accept through common sense, but pressing further here and now wouldn’t change anything.
In the end, he nodded shortly.
“…I see.”
Those words held no further questions.
More than acceptance, they held the intent to set the matter aside for now.
Reimeon immediately looked around and raised his voice.
“We will reorganize the wagons.”
“Move only the wounded, the medical officer, and essential supplies to the first wagon.”
He turned his gaze toward the bodies of the fallen military police.
“We will gather the remains of the fallen and load them onto the second wagon.”
“We’ll move the surplus supplies onto the second wagon as well.”
Reimeon paused briefly,
then added in a lower, firmer voice.
“Everyone else, including me, will proceed on foot.”
“We cannot remain here any longer.”
At his words, the group immediately began to move.
The guards and military police carefully lifted the bodies of the fallen first.
Bloodstained cloaks were draped over them,
and weapons were pried from rigid hands one by one.
No one made a sound.
Elsewhere, Wolleyeon and Jincheong were sorting the cargo of the second wagon.
They unloaded unnecessary baggage,
making space to secure the bodies so they would not be shaken.
The first wagon was more urgent.
Under the medical officer’s direction, Bido was laid in the most stable spot inside, half-reclining against the side.
Blankets and sacks were stacked behind him to prop him up,
and his torso was carefully bound with straps so his wounds would not be jostled.
Other wounded were loaded as well,
and the medical officer settled beside them with medicine boxes and bandages spread out.
Edeu tried to move supplies himself, clenching his teeth and clutching his injured arm, but
Wolleyeon shut him down with a single sentence.
“You’ll only get in the way fumbling with one hand. Stay put.”
Edeu grimaced for a moment, then clicked his tongue and stepped back.
Not far away, Ailla still had Hadin in her grip.
Stripped of his black armor and unable to use either arm, Hadin was gasping for breath,
while the chain coiled around his body in several layers faintly emanated blue light.
Ailla muttered lowly.
“Act up, and I’ll jolt you again.”
Hadin exhaled a breath mixed with blood instead of answering.
All preparations proceeded far faster than usual.
It wasn’t because they were rushed.
It was because everyone knew.
The longer they stayed at this pass, the more dangerous it would become.
Only when the bodies had all been loaded onto the second wagon did Reimeon finally exhale.
His face was stiff with fatigue and shock, but
his voice remained forcibly steady.
“We move out.”
With those brief words, the procession began moving again.
The first wagon was unusually slow.
It was filled with the breathing of the wounded and the medical officer’s low orders.
The second wagon, by contrast, was heavier.
The bodies, covered in cloaks, were tightly bound so they wouldn’t bump against one another,
and each time the wheels creaked, no one could easily look that way.
The smell of blood still lingered on the road, and the wind was damp and cold.
But they could not stop.
Though no one spoke it aloud,
everyone was thinking the same thing.
They had only survived this time.
There was no guarantee it would be the same next time.
As the wagon began to move again, Bido swallowed hard.
Even the slightest jolt sent pain tearing through the inside of his right chest.
His breaths grew shallower,
and cold sweat trickled down his nape.
He might die.
The fear that had been so vivid only moments ago
still lingered inside his body.
Bido barely closed his eyes and muttered to himself.
‘…Who are you.’
Then that familiar voice came again.
‘You know.’
Even through his hazy consciousness, Bido clung to those words.
‘…Was it you who helped me?’
This time, the answer came slowly.
The wagon jolted once, and Bido swallowed a groan.
Only after a long while did the voice echo lowly.
‘Because you have to live.’
Panting, Bido asked again.
‘Why…’
This time, the voice trembled very slightly.
‘So that you can stop him.’
Bido’s eyelids trembled.
‘…Roan?’
The moment that name crossed,
the voice too stopped for a very brief moment.
For the first time,
something resembling emotion was mixed into that silence.
‘Yes.’
A short, low answer.
Even as his consciousness faded, Bido didn’t let that word slip by.
‘…How—’
‘Don’t ask now.’
The voice cut him off.
It was clearer than before, but
at the same time, it seemed to come from farther away.
‘Breathe. Survive.’
‘Only then can you end it next time.’
Bido closed his eyes without fully grasping the meaning of those words.
But that final line alone remained strangely, vividly clear.
Because only then can you end it next time.