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A Space Marine Got a Status Window Chapter 2: I Got a Status Window on My First Day as an NCO (2)

Chapter 2: I Got a Status Window on My First Day as an NCO (2)

In​​ the year 2070,⁠‌ space was still‌ a fairly distant​‍ world for humanity.⁠⁠⁠

The⁠‌ person who brought⁠ that distant world​⁠ practically within arm’s‌ reach was none⁠ other than Doctor‌ Space, Dr. Jo⁠​​ Woojeong.

Nobel​ Prize in Physics,⁠ Nobel Prize in⁠ Chemistry, Nobel Prize‌ in Physiology or‌⁠ Medicine, and even‍ the Nobel Peace⁠ Prize.

That‍⁠‍ genius had won⁠ a total of‌‌ fourteen Nobel Prizes,⁠​‌ and after discovering‌‌ portal technology that‌ practically rendered the⁠ concept of distance‍⁠​ irrelevant, humanity finally‍‌​ entered the space‍⁠ age.

“Space⁠ is infinite!”

And​⁠‌ the universe humanity​ encountered was overflowing‌ with resources far​‍⁠ more abundant than‌‌ it had ever‌​ imagined.

There‍ was only one‍ drawback.

“The‍ Mog, those fucking‍​⁠ monster bastards, are‌ infinite too!”

There​‌ were countless terrifying‌ creatures called Mog.​‍

A fucking enormous number​‍‍ of them.

For⁠​ that reason, the⁠‍ exploitation of space⁠‌ resources inevitably had‌‍​ to be accompanied⁠ by battles against‍ the Mog.

Because‍‌‍ of this, every⁠ planet was assigned​‍‌ a danger level.‍

From​‍‌ Red level, the‍‌ lowest, to Purple​ level, the highest.⁠​

In‍⁠ the case of‍​​ Red-level planets, even​‍​ soldiers who had‌⁠‌ just become Space‍⁠ Marines could be‍​‌ sent there.

“If⁠⁠⁠ you send ten⁠ rookie Space Marines‌ to a Red-level​​ planet, about nine‌​ survive.”

Red-level‌‌ planets were not‍​‌ extremely difficult places.‍‌

“Then‍​⁠ what about Orange-level⁠⁠‌ ones? Do about‌‍ seven out of​‌​ ten survive?”

“Huh?‍‍​ What the fuck⁠ are you talking⁠​ about? Why would​​​ you send rookies‌ to an Orange-level​ planet? What kind‍ of lunatic would‌ send rookies there?”​

“Sir?”​

“Don’t‍ fucking ‘sir’ me!‌ If you send‌‌​ ten rookies to⁠ an Orange-level planet,‍​ all ten come‍⁠ back dead!”

However,​⁠‌ starting from Orange‍ level, survival began‍​ to become a serious problem.

Put‌‌ another way, if‌‍ you wanted to‌ make a good⁠ amount of money,​‌ you had to‍ be sent to‌ an Orange-level planet.⁠​⁠

Because‍‌‌ the bonuses there​⁠ were considerable.

That⁠ was the case‌ with planet Amotia.​‌

Located​⁠ 3.14 light-years from​​​ Earth, it was‍​‌ currently an Orange-level‌‌ planet and, at‌‌ the same time,‍‌ a planet in‍​ the midst of​‍⁠ colonization.

The⁠⁠ fact that it⁠⁠ was still being⁠‌ colonized meant that​‍​ there were still‌‍ many Mog left​‍ to eliminate.

At‌ the same time,⁠‍ numerous countries were‌ carrying out colonization‌ operations to secure​‍⁠ resource-rich territories.

In⁠⁠⁠ other words, while‍‌ you were already‍ on the verge‌‍‌ of death fighting‌‍​ the Mog, you​ could suddenly lose​‍ contact with an‍‌‌ outpost and, when​⁠ you went to‍ check what had‍⁠ happened, find soldiers‌​ from an enemy⁠​ nation waving at‌ you from there.‌‌

Situations​‍ like that occurred​ frequently.

Furthermore,‌​‍ now that humanity‌‌⁠ had entered the‍⁠ space age, securing‍ resource-rich territories was​ of vital importance.⁠⁠

It​‍ was the age‍ of space competition.​

And‍‌‌ in that era,‍‌⁠ the moment a nation became incapable‌ of securing resources‌ was practically equivalent‌‌ to falling behind.‌​​

Korea‍⁠‍ was no exception.‍⁠

Korea‍⁠‍ diligently dispatched Space⁠‌ Marines throughout the‌ universe while engaging​⁠‍ in resource exploitation.‌

And‌‍⁠ in the space‍ age, ‘working diligently’‍⁠ meant that a proportional number of‍‌⁠ people died in‌⁠⁠ the process.

The‌​ Korean division established‌ on planet Amotia⁠ was no exception.‌

Four‌‌​ years, six months,​ and eleven days⁠⁠ had passed since​‍⁠ they began exploiting⁠ its resources, and‌‌‍ every time it​‌‌ seemed like they⁠ could finally catch​‌ their breath, bad‌‌‍ news arrived.

This⁠ time was no‍‍‌ different.

“We’ve⁠ received a communication⁠ from Base E1323!”‍‍

The‍‌‌ moment he heard‌ the report, the​​‍ gaze of Major​‌​ Lee Sunhyeok, commander⁠⁠ of the Korean​‍ division on Amotia,⁠ turned cold.

“What‌ does it say?”​‍

Although‍ he asked the​ question, Major Lee​‍ Sunhyeok already knew‍ what kind of‍ answer he would‍ receive.

Bad⁠ news.

“333​‌ Mogdogs have appeared!”‍​‍

Just‌ as he expected,‍‌‍ the report brought‌‌ bad news.

Base⁠ E1323 was a kind of observation‌ post located on‌ the front line,‍‌ whose function was⁠‌ to detect approaching⁠⁠ Mog monsters.

Only​‌‌ a single squad⁠​​ had been deployed​‌ there.

In⁠ other words, just⁠ ten Space Marines.​

They‌⁠ had no chance‌⁠ of winning.

At‍ most, they could​ hold out for‌‍ a while.

That‌‌⁠ was why the⁠ next question inevitably‌ came.

“They’ve​ requested reinforcements!”

“When​‍ did they make⁠⁠⁠ the request?”

“Three​‍ minutes and forty-four‌ seconds ago. Amotia’s​‌ sandstorms cause a lot of communication⁠‍ interference, so there’s⁠‍ a considerable delay.”‌⁠

At‍ those words, Major‌‌ Lee Sunhyeok did​‌ not respond.

It​ wasn’t because he​‌ was hesitating.

The⁠‍ answer was obvious.​⁠​

A single squad of‍‍ eleven Space Marines​‌‌ had no chance‌ of holding out⁠‌‌ against 333 Mogdogs.⁠⁠

Sending‍⁠​ reinforcements in an⁠ attempt to save⁠‌ them would only‍​ waste time, squander‍‌‍ resources, and cause⁠​⁠ even greater losses.‍‌

He‌​‍ didn’t even need‌ to make any‌ calculations.

Major​⁠ Lee Sunhyeok had‌​ been through that​ exact same situation‍‍‌ hundreds of times​‍ and knew it‍‍‍ better than anyone.​‍

But⁠ even so, giving‌‍‌ that obvious answer‌ was still difficult.‍‌

“……We⁠⁠ won’t send reinforcements.”‍‌

He​ finally managed to‍⁠ give the order.‌⁠

His‍​‌ subordinates’ expressions hardened⁠⁠ when they heard‍‍⁠ it.

They​​ all felt the‌ same way.

And‍​​ there was only‍ one thing Major​⁠‍ Lee Sunhyeok could‌ say to them.‍⁠‍

“It’s‍ impossible to save​​ them unless we⁠ have a Psyker​​‍ Agent.”

It⁠ was nothing more⁠​ than a justification⁠‍ to remind them‌ that they had‌ no other choice.‌‌

“Who’s‌‍ in command over⁠​ there?”

“Sergeant⁠ Kim Seojun.”

“The‌ sergeant who was​⁠‍ just assigned here?”⁠​

“Yes,‌ sir.”

Realizing​​​ that the place‍‌ had simultaneously become‍ a newcomer’s debut‍ and grave, Major⁠‍‌ Lee Sunhyeok let⁠ out a sigh.⁠

“What‍⁠​ terrible luck.”

Bang!⁠

With​ that final shot,⁠ the battlefield, relentlessly​ battered by sandstorms,⁠ fell silent.

No‌‌ one said a word.

Huff,⁠ huff, huff……

The⁠ only sounds that‌ could be heard⁠​⁠ were the soldiers’​​ ragged breaths inside​⁠‍ their suits.

There​ was only one​⁠‌ exception.

Sergeant​​ Kim Seojun.

A voice that none​​ of the others‌‌‌ could hear echoed‌ in his ears.⁠

[Combat‌‍ has ended. Beginning⁠ calculation of results.]‍‌

[You‌ have eliminated 245‍​‍ Mogdogs. You have‌‍‍ obtained 245 points.]‍⁠

[You⁠ have eliminated 193‌‌​ Mogdogs with a single shot. You‍⁠‍ have obtained 386‍⁠ points as a One Shot, One​‍‍ Kill bonus.]

[You⁠​ have achieved more‍ than 300 kills⁠​ in this combat.​ You will be‌ awarded 300 points‌‍‌ as a kill⁠​ streak bonus.]

[Congratulations​ on your victory‍⁠​ in your first​ combat. You have⁠⁠⁠ received a Silver​ Ticket as a reward.]

One‌‍‌ notification after another‌ echoed in his‍ ears.

‘Ah.’​⁠

Those​‌ notifications brought Kim​‌‌ Seojun back to​‍ his senses.

‘This⁠⁠ is insane.’

And‌⁠ the moment his⁠​‍ mind became clear‍​⁠ again, all the⁠‍ information and confusion‌​ he had deliberately‌​ ignored during the‌ battle began flooding‌​ into his head.​⁠⁠

‘Something​‍ has definitely happened​​ to me. Whether​​‍ I’ve gained an​ ability or a mental illness.’

It‍ was then.

“T-That’s⁠⁠ incredible!”

One‌‍​ of his subordinates,⁠ Corporal Lee Jihoon,‍ shouted as he‍ stared at Kim⁠⁠‌ Seojun in utter‍​ astonishment.

“H-How‌‍ the hell did‍ you do that,‌⁠ sir?”

At‍ those words, the‍ other members of‌ the unit also‍ began showing expressions‌ of amazement.

It​ was a completely‍ natural reaction.

The‍⁠ moment 333 Mogdogs⁠⁠ charged at them,​⁠​ practically every member⁠‌ of the unit‍ had lost their​⁠ minds.

The‍‌​ only thing that⁠‍ had kept them​⁠‍ from fleeing the⁠⁠ battle was that‌‍ the effects of⁠⁠⁠ the Stimpak had‌​‍ numbed their fear.‌

Thanks⁠ to that, all‌ that happened was‌‌⁠ that they pissed⁠​‌ themselves in their​⁠ diapers.

In⁠ any case, it⁠​ had been an​ absurd situation from⁠ any point of⁠ view.

And‌⁠⁠ in the midst‌ of that desperate‌⁠ situation, Sergeant Kim‍ Seojun had demonstrated​‍​ equally absurd marksmanship​ while eliminating the‌⁠‌ Mogdogs.

“A-Are‌​‍ you perhaps a Psyker?”

To‍‌​ the point that‍​​ they began wondering⁠ whether Sergeant Kim​‌ Seojun was a Psyker, a superhuman⁠ who transcended the‌ limits of an⁠​‍ ordinary person.

And‌ that question was‌​‌ perfectly reasonable.

That‌⁠‌ was why.

“Corporal‍ Lee Jihoon.”

“Yes?”‌‍‍

“Yes?”‌‍⁠

“Ah!​ C-Corporal Lee Jihoon!”⁠⁠‌

Kim⁠​⁠ Seojun said to‌ Corporal Lee Jihoon,​⁠ who had just​ responded.

“Seeing⁠‍​ how everyone’s surprised‍‌​ enough to start‌‌ stuttering, it looks‌‍⁠ like you’ve all​⁠⁠ come back to‌⁠ your senses.”

“Sir?”‍​‌

“I’m⁠⁠⁠ saying the drug⁠ has worn off.”​​​

Just⁠ as he had⁠⁠​ said, the fact​ that they were⁠‌‌ able to react‌​​ so normally meant‌ that the effects‍‌​ of the Stimpak‍​‌ had worn off.⁠

And⁠ that meant the‍ side effects were​‌ about to hit‍ them.

Unbearable⁠ exhaustion.

And,‍​ depending on the‍‍⁠ individual, side effects‍⁠ so severe that⁠⁠ they might not⁠‍ even be able‍⁠ to move their‌ hands or feet.‌⁠​

“Everyone,‌⁠‍ gather your things.”‌​​

That⁠‍‍ was why Kim‌‍‌ Seojun ordered a retreat without hesitating‍ for even an‌‍ instant.

“Our‍ things, sir?”

“Yes.‌⁠⁠ We’re retreating to​‍ the main base.”⁠‍‌

Corporal⁠‍‌ Lee Jihoon turned‌‌ pale when he​ heard that.

“B-But‌ we still haven’t⁠⁠ received any orders⁠⁠ to retreat, sir.”⁠⁠​

Naturally,‍‌‌ retreating on their‍‍‌ own without receiving​⁠‌ an order from⁠⁠​ their superiors was​‍​ considered desertion in​‌‌ the military.

And​​‌ it was an​ extremely serious offense.‌

Kim⁠​‌ Seojun knew that‌⁠⁠ too.

He‌‍ had far more‍⁠​ experience and knowledge‌‍⁠ than the relatively‌​⁠ seasoned Space Marines​ there.

He⁠ knew perfectly well‌‍ that retreating before‍‌ receiving an order​ from above was⁠‌ illegal.

“Triple.”‍‌‍

“Sir?”⁠⁠

“First‌⁠‌ there were a hundred. Then there​ were three hundred.​ When the Mog‌​ triple their numbers‌ like that, it⁠‌‍ means they’re determined⁠ to destroy a position. We just⁠‍ stopped three hundred.​‌ So how many⁠‌‌ do you think⁠ will come next?”‌⁠‍

And⁠ there was a possibility that nearly⁠ a thousand Mogdogs⁠ would arrive soon.​

In‌⁠ fact, they could​‌ consider themselves lucky‌⁠ if only a thousand Mogdogs showed‍‌ up.

“If⁠‌ Thorn Snakes show⁠⁠ up too, then‍⁠⁠ we’re finished.”

If‍ Thorn Snakes appeared​‌‍ among those Mogdogs,‍​ those damned monsters‍ capable of endlessly‍ firing thorns like⁠‌ terrifying arrows, then​ not even Kim⁠ Seojun would have⁠ any way to​‌‌ deal with the‍⁠ situation.

“But‌‌ we still haven’t⁠ received an order⁠‌‍ to retreat, sir.”‌

Of⁠⁠‌ course, as soldiers,‍⁠ their military instincts‍ resisted the idea‍ of retreating without​ receiving an order.‌​

“We​ can receive the‌ retreat order while‍‍‌ we’re retreating. Besides,‌⁠ because of the​‌ communication interference, we‌‌⁠ still haven’t even‍ received a response⁠⁠ to our request‌‌⁠ for reinforcements. If‌ we ask for‌​ authorization to retreat,⁠⁠ it’ll take more⁠⁠⁠ than five minutes‌ to get a response. In a situation where every​⁠‌ minute and every‍ second counts, we‍ need to move⁠ while we can‍‌ still hold a steering wheel.”

“And⁠‍‍ what do we‌​ do if we⁠​​ retreat and they‍⁠ deny authorization afterward?”​​⁠

Kim​​⁠ Seojun calmly answered‌ the question.

“Then‍ we’ll go to⁠​ a court-martial for‍‍ disobeying orders.”

“Sir?”‌‍⁠

“There‍ are mitigating circumstances,​​ so we’ll probably‍‍⁠ get about six‍​⁠ months in prison.”‌

At​‍​ those words, spoken‍ with absolute calm,‍​ both Corporal Lee​⁠ Jihoon, who had​​ asked the question,‍‌⁠ and the others⁠‌ were dumbfounded.

Who​‌ would have imagined​‍ that he would​⁠⁠ talk about violating​​ military law and​⁠‌ ending up in⁠⁠ prison with the⁠‌‍ same calmness as‍‍ someone talking about‍ going to the‌ neighborhood supermarket?

Of⁠⁠‍ course, Kim Seojun​‍​ hadn’t been like​​‍ that from the‍‌ beginning either.

But​​‌ after experiencing all‍ kinds of hell⁠ during his previous‌‌⁠ active service, he⁠​‌ had learned something.‌

“We’ll‍⁠‍ spend six months⁠​ in a safe‌‍ space prison, eating​ three meals a day, showering with​⁠ cold water, and‌​ reading books. All‍ for free.”

In‍‍ that hell, prison‌⁠ was an extremely⁠ comfortable place.

“So‍⁠​ choose. You can​⁠⁠ stay here and‌ have a date‌ with a thousand​‍ Mogdogs, or come​ with me and​‌ spend six months⁠ playing word-chain games‍​ in prison.”

When​ Sergeant Kim Seojun⁠‌ said that, his‌‍ subordinates’ heads were‌‍ still a mess.⁠

Had​​‍ their superior really⁠ just told them⁠ to ignore military‌⁠⁠ law?

But‍ there was one‍⁠ thing they were‌ completely certain of.‍⁠

‘……If‌‌‌ we want to⁠​⁠ survive, we have‍​⁠ to listen to⁠ the Sergeant.’

The⁠‍‍ man named Kim‌​‌ Seojun standing before⁠‍​ them was a veteran none of‍‍​ them could compare‍ to.

Once‌‌ they understood that‌ reality, their gazes​⁠⁠ changed.

Seeing​ that, Sergeant Kim‌⁠ Seojun said.

“Then⁠ we’re retreating. Everyone,‌‍ get in the​‌​ vehicle.”

No​​ one hesitated.

They​​‍ immediately headed toward⁠⁠ the vehicle and‌⁠​ climbed into the‍ military truck with⁠ their heavy suits​​​ still on.

Sergeant⁠‌​ Kim Seojun took⁠ the wheel.

“Sergeant‍​‌ Kim, I’ll drive.”⁠⁠

At⁠​​ the words of‍‍ Private First Class⁠⁠‌ Park Boseop, the‌‌‍ driver who had‍​‌ sat down in⁠⁠ the passenger seat,⁠ Kim Seojun asked.‌​​

“Why?‍ Are you worried‌ about me driving?”‌

Park​ Boseop didn’t answer.​⁠‍

The‍​ truth was, he‌​ was worried.

And​⁠‍ it was perfectly‍ natural.

This‍ wasn’t some remote‍‍‌ rural road in⁠ Gangwon.

This​ was planet Amotia.‌‍​

Driving‌‌ there was completely⁠⁠ different from driving‍​​ a truck down‌⁠ a simple unpaved‌ road.

That⁠⁠⁠ was why qualifying‍ as a military‍ driver required far‍‌ more skill than‌ most people imagined.‌‍

Kim​​ Seojun understood his‌‍ concern perfectly.

“Don’t⁠⁠‌ worry. I drove⁠⁠‍ quite a bit‍​‌ during my active‍⁠ service. I even⁠ transported stars for‌⁠ a while.”

That⁠‍‍ was why he‌ tried to reassure‍​‌ him.

But‌​ when Park Boseop​ heard that, he‍ was horrified.

“Huh?​ Did you say⁠ stars, sir?”

Vroooom!​

Before⁠​‍ he could even‌​⁠ answer the question,⁠ Kim Seojun shifted​​ gears and stepped⁠ on the accelerator.‌

At‌‌‌ the same time,‍ everyone inside the​‍ vehicle heard something.⁠‌

Rumble,‌ rumble, rumble!

The⁠ ground rumbled as‍ if an earthquake‍‌ had struck.

[1,032‌ Mogdogs have appeared‌ ahead.]

Then⁠​​ came the warning‌⁠‌ from the surveillance⁠ systems of the​‌ base they had⁠ just abandoned.

Leaving⁠ that warning behind,​‍‌ Sergeant Kim Seojun‍ continued pressing hard‌​​ on the truck’s‌‌​ accelerator.

One‌‍ minute later, they⁠ all heard another‍​‌ notification.

[Base​ E1323 has been‌‌ destroyed.]

After‌‌​ the beginning of‌‍⁠ the space age,​ humanity’s technology advanced​ even further.

However,‍⁠‍ that did not‌⁠ solve all of⁠​ its problems.

One‌​ of the most‍‌‍ representative examples was​​ communication.

On‌‍ Earth, even a beggar in the‍​ middle of the‌‍‌ street could easily⁠ communicate with someone‍​ on the other‍​‌ side of the‍ planet.

Space⁠​ was different.

In‌ those extreme environments,⁠​‌ completely different from​⁠ those on Earth,‌‍⁠ both wireless and⁠ satellite communications suffered⁠⁠​ from numerous problems.‍

Planet​⁠ Amotia was no​ exception.

The‌ sandstorms that blew‌​ incessantly there made​​ radio communications practically‌​ impossible.

Of​ course, they could‍‌⁠ use physical communication‍ lines without too‍ many problems.

But​ planet Amotia was‍​‌ infested with those‌‌ damned monsters called​⁠‌ Mog, creatures that⁠ went berserk the⁠​ moment they encountered​​ humans, so the‌​ communication lines were⁠​ constantly being severed.​‌‌

Furthermore,‍ it was common‍⁠⁠ for soldiers from⁠‍​ hostile countries to‌‌ cut them whenever⁠‍​ they had the​​​ opportunity simply to‍ hinder enemy operations.​

And‌‍ the Mog weren’t‌​​ simple monsters.

They⁠⁠ were intelligent.

To⁠​ be precise, intelligent‌‍‍ individuals existed among⁠ them.

And⁠ to those individuals,‌ human communication lines‌ were one of​ their priority targets.‍⁠

Of⁠​ course, powerful countries,‌⁠⁠ those with forces‌⁠ and resources to‍‌‍ spare, could simply​ say.

‘Then‌ we’ll just reinstall‌‍ them every time‍⁠⁠ they cut them!’​

But‌ the situation of‌⁠ the Korean division⁠‍‍ stationed on planet‌ Amotia was different.‌⁠‍

Although‌⁠‌ it was somewhat‍ embarrassing to admit,⁠ the Korean division‌ had practically given‍‌ up on resource‍ exploitation on Amotia.​​⁠

In‌⁠​ fact, they had⁠ given up quite⁠‌ some time ago.​

Despite⁠⁠‌ that, the Korean⁠​ division remained there⁠ and troops continued‌​ to be sent‌ there for one‌⁠‌ very simple reason.‌

The​ moment they officially‌‍⁠ abandoned resource exploitation,⁠ some big shot⁠ would have to​⁠​ take responsibility for‍⁠ all the expenses‌ invested up to​ that point.

Naturally,⁠​ no one was‌ willing to declare​ that they were​‌ abandoning it.

But⁠⁠‍ there was also​ no chance that​‍‍ they would continue⁠​ investing large amounts‌ of resources in‍⁠⁠ a place that‍‌ produced no results.‌‍​

In​‍ many ways, their‌‍‍ conditions were terrible.‌‍⁠

Whenever​‍​ the sandstorms blew,‌‌ it was completely​ normal for a communication from a distant area to⁠⁠​ take five or‍‌‌ ten minutes to‌⁠ arrive.

That​‍ meant that by‍ the time a message reached headquarters,‌​ the situation on⁠‌⁠ the ground had‍‍ often already ended.‌

This​ time, exactly the⁠‌⁠ same thing had⁠⁠ happened.

When⁠⁠‍ they received the⁠‍‌ request for reinforcements‌⁠ from Base E1323,‌‌ headquarters assumed that⁠‌ its occupants had‌​‍ already been wiped‍⁠‍ out.

That​ was why they‌ didn’t send reinforcements.‌

“A​⁠‌ request has arrived‍​⁠ from Base E1323.”‌‌‌

For‍⁠‌ that reason, when‍‍‍ a new request‍⁠ arrived approximately thirty⁠​ minutes after that‍‍ request for reinforcements,‌⁠‌ Major Lee Sunhyeok​⁠ was surprised.

“They’re‌⁠ requesting authorization to⁠​​ retreat.”

But⁠‌​ the moment he‌⁠​ heard those words,​ Major Lee Sunhyeok’s‌‌ expression hardened.

Naturally,​‍‌ no one said,‌ ‘We request authorization‌ to retreat!’ when‍⁠‌ things were going‍​ well.

And‍ most importantly, wireless‌ communications weren’t functioning⁠ properly.

It⁠‌ was highly likely​​‍ that the request​ to retreat had​​​ been sent several‌‌​ minutes earlier.

Then⁠‌​ what would the‍​‌ situation be like‌ at that very​‌⁠ moment?

It⁠‌‌ was obvious.

They‍ must have already⁠‌⁠ been wiped out​⁠‍ or suffered losses⁠ practically equivalent to⁠‍ annihilation.

“And⁠ they say they’re​‌​ already retreating.”

“What?”⁠​‌

However,⁠‌​ the moment he‌‌ heard that, Major‍ Lee Sunhyeok’s expression‌⁠ changed.

“What‍ do you mean?”⁠

They‍ were requesting permission​‍‍ to retreat when‍ they were already‍ in the middle‍‍‌ of retreating?

Of⁠‌‌ course, understanding the‍‌ meaning of those‌ words wasn’t difficult.‍

The‍​ problem was understanding‍‍ how soldiers could‍⁠⁠ decide to retreat‌‌‍ on their own.‌⁠

It⁠​ was then that⁠‌‍ Major Lee Sunhyeok‍​​ remembered something.

‘He​⁠​ was a newly‌ appointed Sergeant.’

The​​ commander of the‍‌ unit sent to‍⁠ Base E1323 was‍‍ a rookie who‌​‌ had just become​‍ a Sergeant.

Truthfully,‍‍⁠ Major Lee Sunhyeok‌⁠​ hadn’t paid much‌ attention to the‍​‍ new Sergeant.

For‌ starters, normal, sensible‍​‍ people didn’t usually⁠ end up stationed‌ on Orange-level planets.⁠‍

As‌‍ a general rule,​‌‌ assignments to Orange-level‍​⁠ planets were filled​ primarily by volunteers.‍‌​

So⁠⁠‍ there were only​ two possibilities.

Either⁠ you had committed​​⁠ some offense and‍‌​ been forcibly assigned​ there.

Or‌‌‌ you had volunteered.​‌

And​ out of every‍ ten volunteers, nine​ did it simply‍⁠ because they were‍⁠⁠ blinded by money.‍⁠

The⁠⁠‌ remaining one did​‌​ it to advance​‌ their military career.​​

Furthermore,​‍‌ planet Amotia was‌ already a problematic​‌⁠ place that had​‍‍ fallen out of‍​ favor with the⁠​‌ higher-ups, so it​ wasn’t exactly a good assignment for‍‌ someone competent and‌ ambitious who wanted⁠​⁠ to advance their‍​ career.

At‍​‍ the same time,​⁠⁠ every country was‌⁠ currently suffering from‌‍ a severe shortage⁠​‍ of soldiers.

Because⁠⁠ of that, aptitude‌ examinations had become⁠⁠​ far more lenient.‌‍

‘Do​⁠‍ you regularly feel⁠‌‍ homicidal urges, and⁠ does holding a weapon make you​​ want to kill​⁠ someone? We’ve been‌‍​ waiting for talent​‌‌ like you! Take‌ a weapon right‌ now and unleash​​​ all those homicidal‌‌​ urges on the‍ Mog!’

Things⁠ like that really​ happened.

And⁠ naturally, people whom‌‍‍ anyone would consider‌ strange ended up‍​ assigned to places⁠ like planet Amotia.‌⁠‍

In‍‍‍ any case, for‌‌ all those reasons,‌⁠⁠ Major Lee Sunhyeok​⁠‍ hadn’t shown any⁠​​ particular interest in​⁠​ the new Sergeant’s​ service record.

His⁠​‌ subordinates hadn’t bothered‌‍ to report on‍‌ it either.

When​​ there was a nine-in-ten chance that​ he would die​ or flee back​ to Earth before‌ the month was‌​ over, there was​‌ no reason to⁠‍⁠ take much interest​‍‌ in him.

From‌ that perspective, it‌‍⁠ wasn’t particularly strange‌⁠ for a newly‍‌ appointed Sergeant to⁠ retreat without authorization​ either.

Running​ away because he‍‍​ wanted to survive?‍

In​‍‍ reality, it was⁠‍ a fairly normal‌‍‍ reaction.

But​ sometimes, you simply⁠ had a hunch.‌‌

“What‌​ was his name?”‍‌

“Sergeant​⁠⁠ Kim Seojun.”

“Give​‌‍ me his profile.”‍‌‍

“What?”‌‌⁠

Major‍⁠ Lee Sunhyeok directed⁠‍ a cold gaze‍‌‍ at the subordinate⁠ who had reacted​‌‌ with surprise.

The‍ subordinate immediately sent​‍‌ him the profile.‌‌⁠

The‌ information appeared before‌ Major Lee Sunhyeok’s⁠ eyes.

And‌​ the moment he⁠‍ saw it, his‍​ gaze changed.

“……He​ served four months⁠​ on planet Icrus?‌‍‌ On active duty?”​

Planet​ Icrus!

There⁠‌ was no way​‌⁠ he wouldn’t know⁠⁠ it.

“The⁠​ Yellow-level one?”

After​‍‌ all, a Yellow-level‌​‍ planet made an‍⁠‌ Orange-level one look⁠ like little more‌⁠ than a neighborhood‌‍‌ cat café.

“And​‍‌ his next assignment​⁠‌ was planet Palabo?”​​⁠

His‍ next assignment had​​ been planet Palabo.⁠​

It⁠ was currently classified⁠ as Orange level,‌​ but it was⁠ far more famous‍⁠‍ for something else.‍⁠

A Behemoth had appeared‌⁠ there.

And‌ after checking the‌‍ dates of service,‌‍ it turned out⁠ that Kim Seojun​‍ had been stationed​‌‌ there precisely when‌⁠ the Behemoth appeared.​

Besides⁠‌ those two places,​ every assignment where​‍ Sergeant Kim Seojun‌‍⁠ had served during⁠⁠ his period of‍ active service ranked‍​ among the worst‍ hells imaginable.

But‌ the most surprising‌ thing was something​‍ else.

“And​‌ even after all⁠⁠ that, he reenlisted?”‌

After‌ going through all‌​ of that, he‌‌ had decided to​​⁠ join the military‍⁠ again.

“Major,‌‌⁠ then how should⁠ we respond to⁠‍ the request to‌ retreat?”

At⁠​⁠ his subordinate’s question,‍ Major Lee Sunhyeok⁠ didn’t have to⁠ think about it.‌​⁠

Because​⁠ there was one⁠​⁠ thing he was‌⁠‌ completely certain of.‌⁠​

“We​ can’t send a soldier to prison‍​ after he managed⁠⁠‌ to come back⁠‍ alive when we⁠ couldn’t even help‍ him. Authorize the‌‍ retreat.”

They‌‍ couldn’t afford to​ lose a Space‌‍ Marine like that.⁠

“Retreat⁠ authorized! Return safely‌ to the main​ base!”

Thus,​⁠‍ the headquarters of‍​ the Korean division​‌‍ on planet Amotia​​‍ sent out that​⁠​ order.

And‍ it was the​​‌ last order to‌​‍ leave that place.⁠​‍

BOOM!⁠‍

An​ explosion shook the‌ headquarters of the‍ Korean division on⁠​ planet Amotia.

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