Chapter 250: Bloody War (4)

After a brief meal, we resumed the meeting immediately. The atmosphere was very different from before.

Everyone was speaking in hushed tones, calmly reconciling differences. Was it the power of rice? Or the effect of my earlier intervention? Whatever it was, as long as the meeting went smoothly, that was enough.

‘To all this…’

Listening silently to the strategic discussion was making me sleepy. It wasn’t that the tension had lifted. I’m not brave enough to relax when a Corps Commander is about to attack. I was blinking because…

‘That’s not how it’s done.’

I let them talk, assuming they were more experienced than me. After all, they wore more ranks than a military supply depot.

But still… I don’t know. The strategies they were proposing lacked realism. And when someone mentioned “ambushing” a Corps Commander from the rear, it only got worse.

It was understandable. No one there had direct experience fighting a Corps Commander. The Swordmaster and Changseong were away, rallying the troops.

In short, I was the only one in the room who had actually fought one. And not just one—I’d killed two. When it came to Corps Commanders, I was basically a veteran. Or not.

“Excuse me. May I have your attention for a moment?”

I raised my voice. At this rate, Fermush would show up while we were still debating.

“Yes, go ahead.”

Everyone politely stopped what they were saying and looked at me. I appreciated the attention, but it was so sudden it made me uncomfortable—like a ghost had passed through.

‘Well, they’re soldiers. Respecting the chain of command is second nature to them.’

I cleared my throat a few times, the echo bouncing off the tent.

“First, let me say that attempting a rear ambush on a Corps Commander won’t work. And even if it did, the damage would be too great. So I won’t allow it.”

“May I ask why?”

General Remi raised her voice cautiously. She didn’t sound critical—genuinely curious, eyes gleaming with interest.

I won’t lie, it felt weird being stared at like that by a three-star general. I sometimes forget this isn’t Earth.

Though come to think of it, something felt off from the start. A young, pretty, polite general? In my world, three-stars preferred tracksuits over uniforms and football over paperwork.

Whenever a two-star showed up, the whole base flipped upside down.

“The general’s order, ‘I want to play football.’ Everyone, up the mountain with shovels.”

Young men answering the call of duty would wage brutal battles against the mountain—day and night, rain or shine. Dinner? Dirt. Singing military chants until every ounce of strength was drained.

By day three, that hill was a football field. That’s the harsh reality.

Sounds insane? It is. Go check for yourselves.

“Shit.”

“Pardon?”

“A slip of the tongue.”

“I understand.”

Best not go further. My PTSD was kicking in.

I pressed my temples with my thumbs and spoke quietly.

“The magic used by Corps Commanders isn’t comparable to regular demons. Even if they use the same low-level spell, one creates a puddle while the other summons a lake or an ocean. The power scale is completely different. If a strike unit tries to ambush them from behind and they’re detected, what do you think would happen?”

“Almost guaranteed total annihilation.”

Remi replied. I nodded while looking at her.

“Exactly. That’s why it’s better to consolidate our forces in a frontal assault than to split them up for skirmishes. Fewer casualties that way.”

“I understand your point, Heavenly Sword. But a head-on clash doesn’t favor us. If our numbers are equal, we humans lose.”

“She’s right. At the Academy they teach us that no matter how strong a human is, we’re helpless against magic.”

Remi looked at me like, “Oh, right—you’re seventeen…”

That’s me. A teen with the soul of a forty-year-old. A guy who, no matter how much you peel, always has another layer. Like an onion.

“But we heroes have blessings. Think about it—the enemy has one type of magic, but we have tanks, healers, and attackers. Blessings are divided into three roles. That means when we’re well-organized and divided properly, that’s when we really shine. The stronger the enemy, the more important it is to stay united.”

“Understood. But our roles are already divided…”

“Dividing by name isn’t enough. What matters is how they’re positioned and what specific function they perform on the battlefield.”

I laid out a map of the area around the portal and began scribbling on it. Remi leaned in to see.

“Top… jungle… mid… bottom…”

She muttered quietly. The other officers looked at me strangely.

Understandable. Those terms come from another game.

I tossed the pen over my shoulder and looked around. Everyone seemed ready to listen. Good.

I spoke solemnly.

“From now on, I’ll explain the roles, positions, and tactical directives for every scenario. I welcome your suggestions.”

In Korea, we have two traditional games of long-standing.

One is League X Legends.

The other is Star X Craft.

Separated by almost twenty years, but with one thing in common—they’re both real-time strategy games.

And as a Korean raised among keyboards and internet cafés, I played both.

So if there’s anyone here capable of teaching advanced tactics, it’s me.

And just so you know, I was Gold IV.

That’s right. Elite.

***

The night was well advanced.

As he exited the tent, Director Sung let out a long yawn. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his drowsy body.

“So exhausting.”

As he tapped his shoulder with his prosthetic arm, a figure emerged from the tent. Sung glanced sideways to see who it was—it was General Remi. She noticed his gaze and turned her head.

Thus began a brief standoff of glances. Remi approached him with firm steps and extended her left hand.

“I apologize for earlier. I formally apologize for letting my personal situation affect my emotions.”

“Ah, yes…”

Director Sung shook her hand, somewhat awkwardly. But then his eyes widened slightly. Remi had offered her left hand on purpose—to greet him with her real hand instead of the prosthetic.

Sung looked at her carefully. She was under immense pressure, both internally and externally. Yet she had maintained her composure. Sung thought that, given the circumstances, she had treated him quite decently.

“I also apologize, General Remi. I was rude in my words and behavior. Even though the rank was obvious, I acted inconsiderately.”

“At least you recognize it.”

“Sorry…”

Remi smiled slightly and let go of his hand.

“In my opinion, Association staff are way too stiff. How are you stricter than the military?”

“Pardon?”

“It was a joke.”

“…Ah, right.”

Director Sung scratched his forehead with his prosthetic, a bit embarrassed. Then Remi pulled a small flask of whiskey from her pocket. With a glance, she pointed to his artificial arm.

“Looks like good tech.”

“This? Well…”

Before answering, Sung realized the intent behind her words. What she was really asking was, “How did you lose your arm, being a non-combatant?” A typically indirect Japanese way of probing.

But Director Sung was a seasoned veteran of life. He caught on immediately and responded with a smile.

“Let’s call it my personal medal. Do you remember the Joaquin tragedy, General? The staff member who almost died and survived—that was me.”

“……!”

Remi’s hand stopped mid-motion, just as she was uncapping the flask. Her eyes widened in surprise. Sung chuckled softly.

“But to be honest, I survived, yes—but I didn’t do anything. I’m not a hero. While Heavenly Sword defeated the Third Corps Commander, I was curled up in a corner like a sack of potatoes.”

He spoke self-deprecatingly. Remi shook her head.

“Anyone who was there is a hero. And a soldier. Calling yourself a mere sack of potatoes is an insult—not just to yourself, but to Heavenly Sword, who risked his life to save you.”

This time, it was Sung who was taken aback.

“General… I didn’t expect you to be such a good person.”

“Being complimented by someone I argued with makes the whiskey taste even more bitter.”

Remi took a sip. Sung was perplexed. Bitter? Wasn’t that a bad thing? After drinking, Remi offered him the flask.

“Want a drink?”

“Gladly.”

Sung took a small sip. Bitter and sweet at the same time. Two flavors that shouldn’t coexist, yet they danced on his palate.

Seeing his expression shift, Remi smiled.

“How is it?”

“It’s good. Actually sweet. Though it seems like a pretty strong liquor.”

“When alcohol tastes sweet, it’s not a good sign.”

“Pardon?”

“It means life has been very bitter.”

Sung squinted his eyes.

“…General Remi, do you watch a lot of Korean dramas?”

“The whole world’s hooked on Hallyu.”

Remi nudged his prosthetic.

“And you seem to know your dramas too, judging from your reaction to one line.”

“…….”

It was true. Director Sung was a die-hard fan of soap operas. Remi chuckled with her shoulders shaking.

Moonlight spilled gently around them. The conversation grew more intimate, the flask passed back and forth. Naturally, the topic drifted to Heavenly Sword, Kang Geom-Ma.

“I never imagined Heavenly Sword had such knowledge of military strategy.”

Remi commented. Sung nodded vigorously.

“Me neither. I knew he wasn’t just brute strength, but even so, he still surprises me.”

“His tactical explanations were so clear… Top, mid, jungle, bottom. Very intuitive. We should consider adopting it officially after this operation.”

“I’ll draft a report to submit to Deputy Director Changseong. Speaking of which where is he now…?”

At that moment, a loud noise came from behind them. Sung turned, startled.

“He always shows up when you mention him.”

Changseong appeared, dusting off his hands. At his feet were dozens of stacked boxes.

“I was looking for you, Vice President.”

“The fact that I’m called a director who’s been drinking… it moves me.”

“…….”

“…….”

Remi subtly slid the flask back to Sung. He didn’t notice and quickly changed the subject.

“Where were you? And what’s all this?”

“Heavenly Sword asked me for a personal favor. Said it was essential for the operation.”

Sung frowned and opened a box. Remi approached, curious.

“Daiso… sashimi knives?”

Inside were piles of discounted filleting knives, all with 30% off stickers.

Remi looked confused. And then surprised again—Sung was trembling with emotion.

Changseong also smiled cheerfully as he crouched down. What was going on?

“Do those cheap 3,000-won knives really mean that much to you?”

Feeling left out, Remi asked. Sung calmed himself and spoke solemnly.

“General Remi, have you ever seen a knife fly?”

A strange question. Before she could answer, Sung added:

“Now you’ll understand why they call him Heavenly Sword.”