A woman’s voice?
Or perhaps, a boy’s voice?
A voice that naturally instilled in them a mission to save someone rang out through the fog, and the intense emotion embedded in its single word moved them to act without hesitation.
“Ugh!”
And without exception, those who attempted to move were enveloped by searing pain.
Some had legs twisted grotesquely, like Officer Kim Ichang, while others had their feet trapped under building debris, making movement impossible. One person’s legs were pinned by a sharp piece of metal, presumed to have fallen from the ceiling, while another had severely injured legs with exposed bone.
Realizing they couldn’t move their legs, everyone was overwhelmed by anxiety, sighing in relief only upon remembering they still had their guns or hand grenades to protect themselves.
And as they let out these sighs of relief, a visitor arrived.
“Help me!”
They attracted attention through a plea for rescue.
With overwhelming emotion, impossible to ignore, they cried desperately.
People responded in various ways.
“Ugh, here! Come here!”
Some, despite their leg injuries, couldn’t ignore the cries for help and called others to their location.
“Hey, there’s someone here! Though I’m hurt too, with two of us, it’ll be better than now!”
Others called for help to deal with their legs.
“Stop! Who’s there?”
Some aimed their guns, guarding against potential danger.
“…”
And yet others, despite the desperate calls for help, remained silent in stillness.
People responded to the cries in their own different ways.
And as a result…
“人！人だ！音があっちから聞こえた！”
A festival of Japanese filled the air, questioning the ears of those who heard it.
Thud-thud-thud.
And echoing through the fog were hurried footsteps.
The sounds reverberated loudly as if racing across the island, filled with the eagerness of seeking people. But it wasn’t to save them; it carried a clear sense of hostility.
At the end of these footsteps appeared someone with a gun.
A boy holding what looked like a Japanese rifle.
“死ね!”
The boys stared fiercely, filled with hostility and fighting spirit, at everyone—
At those who loudly cried for help.
At those who called out to him for their own legs.
At those who pointed their guns in the direction of the cries and maintained vigilance.
At those who had turned a blind eye to the rescue calls.
And so, as the boy aimed his rifle, their reactions were just as fierce.
“Boy… is it?”
Some, surprised to see a boy point a gun at them, forgot to even pull the trigger.
“Hey! You seem to know Korean. Are you being forced to do this? I can help you if you put that gun down! I have connections to protect you from whoever’s threatening you! If your family has been taken hostage, I’ll use my own money to hire mercenaries to rescue them! So don’t do something stupid and lower that gun—kids like you shouldn’t even be holding a gun!”
Some, upon realizing the threat came from a boy, tried to reason with him instead of attacking.
Bang!
Some, seeing someone point a gun at them, pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Tatatatat!
Others fired without thought, their instincts guiding their fingers as they sprayed bullets.
That’s how they each resisted in their own different ways.
This was their choice, the turning point in their lives.
What would the outcome be?
*
“Perform the holy war along God’s way, making provisions for the hereafter by sacrificing the life of this world. Whosoever is slain or conquers along God’s way will be given by Me a mighty reward. Know ye: the believing ones who remain behind in the absence of all trouble are not equal to those who fight in God’s cause, having sacrificed their goods and lives. God has granted preference to those who fight with their goods and their lives above those who remain behind. Though God is gracious to all believers, He will give a great reward unto those who fight in His cause…”
Jinseong paced through the fog, chanting incantations as if reciting holy scriptures.
At his side stood water ghosts, their putrid stench hidden by the brackish smell of the fog. Beneath his feet lay moaning figures, their groans rising from the ground. It was a sight both ominous and evil, as if a general of demons had brought infernal spirits into the mortal realm.
But the words that emerged from his mouth were sacred.
“Ah, mercy and compassion. God raises those who engage in the holy war, extending clemency and compassion to them; God is most merciful and compassionate. Is He not the truly merciful, the compassionate? He prepares a measure of reward for those who engage in the holy war, incomparable to any other reward. Vast and profound is the difference between this reward and another—wider even than the heavens and the earth. So, believers, fear not to join the holy war!”
Jinseong recited holy scriptures as he gazed upon the people.
What he saw in their bodies were the blessings of magic.
These were marks used in the Middle East to select warriors.
It was a magical ritual designed to make individuals fight enemies in dreams, testing the qualities a warrior should possess, filling them with temporary courage and enhancing their strength.
This magic, estimated to have been created long ago, was surprisingly still in active use, employed by a mercenary group somewhere in the Middle East to select new recruits. Despite its active use, the magic was treated as an extreme secret, known only to the high-ranking members of the mercenary group, thus keeping the cost of the magic relatively low.
“Hmm, blood and courage. This one has defeated an enemy and seen blood. This one bears the mark of blood, showing neither courage nor fighting spirit but still overcoming enemies through instinct.”
Jinseong looked at the faint but visible traces rising from the fallen bodies.
Symbol of Blood.
This indicates the person successfully defeated an enemy in the dream world.
Symbol of Courage.
This indicates the person fought despite fear and dangerous situations.
Someone who only shows the symbol of blood may be fearful but has succeeded in taking a life, possessing the qualities necessary for a warrior who repels enemies.
Someone marked by courage shows initiative, embracing the thought of engaging in battle, and possesses the qualities of a warrior.
Thus, these individuals are warriors. They have seen blood and repelled enemies, embodying the courage necessary for a true warrior.
“Hmm.”
Warriors, noble and honorable beings.
They show no mercy and compassion.
All they know is the destruction of the enemy, survival, and victory.
“Unexpectedly, our enemies…”
But as reality dictates, their numbers cannot be many.
Especially in a peaceful society.
Therefore, warriors are precious, just as gems are rare among stones.
They are treasures among men.
“Is it because they have become cowards in this prolonged peace, or did they spare due to pity and empathy?”
Jinseong looked at the stones that couldn’t become gems.
The policemen losing consciousness, those who saw enemies in the dream world with guns but were mesmerized by appearances and didn’t fire.
In a real war, these individuals would have all been killed. Shot dead by enemies they failed to counter.
Thus, they were not warriors.
They lacked the will to fight, filled with unnecessary compassion and empathy in combat.
They failed the test.
“Alright, the results are out. Ghosts risen from the water, I release you from my control, and you shall feast on those I designate. Revel in your cruelty and sate the greed that lurks deep within you by drinking blood and tearing flesh.”
Jinseong began to point his finger, his face expressionless.
His index finger pointed to the fallen one by one, the act repeated multiple times.
[ Kyeaaaakk! ]
Each pointing ended with a ghostly cheer of triumph.
The ghosts, upon receiving Jinseong’s permission, pounced on their designated marks, biting and drinking blood, chewing flesh to fill their stomachs.
Those still unconscious were helplessly torn apart by the ghostly onslaught, their lives slipping away without a chance to fight back.
And on the bodies that were being torn apart appeared symbols.
Symbols of blood and courage.
“This is the irony of the world.”
Those who had killed boys in dreams and survived now met their ends in reality, as the cost of being warriors.
“Mercenaries must remember something.
If there is a will to fight, they are warriors. A child holding a gun, a middle-aged woman with bombs—they are all warriors.
If there’s no will to fight, they are civilians. Even a retired mercenary or a muscular young man—they are civilians.
Distinguish clearly between warriors and civilians. And show no mercy to warriors.
Warriors must be killed.”
Jinseong chuckled faintly as memories twisted by time surfaced.
