Chapter 136
Bang!
With the crack of Yohan’s shot, gunfire erupted from all directions. Noah, startled, reached for his weapon—only to find Yohan’s barrel aimed squarely at him.
Moon Sung-chul, his forehead pierced clean through, was already convulsing on the blood-soaked floor.
Veins bulged on Noah’s face, and his eyes were bloodshot with rage.
“What the hell are you doing!”
“Don’t move.”
“You…”
“Everything I told you was true. Not a single lie. But.”
Yohan’s words pierced like a blade through the heart.
“I can’t negotiate with someone who can’t even control their own camp and is being tossed around by the likes of Kim Jun, a Seoul Survival Union spy, and that loudmouthed political trash. I know I’ll get stabbed in the back. So don’t move. You’re the one person I don’t want to kill.”
“Kim Jun is a Seoul Survival Union spy?”
When Yohan nodded, Noah’s face contorted violently. Judging from his expression, there was clearly more history there.
Gunshots rang out from all directions. Bang, bang. Screams. Shouts. The noise blended like chaotic splashes of paint.
Noah’s face steadily hardened, while Yohan’s remained calm in stark contrast—a face full of conviction, where defeat didn’t even exist as a possibility.
“Don’t move. You’ll get a hole in your face.”
“You’re pointing a gun with a face that looks like you’re about to cry. That’s not threatening at all. It’s not too late. Call your people off.”
Yohan frowned. How could he still joke at a time like this? That was just like him.
“Your joke’s too late. It’s already started. Just wait. It’ll be over soon.”
“You said you didn’t want to fight. People are going to die. Your people, my people.”
“Mostly your camp, I’d say.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“It’s not arrogance.”
Yohan’s voice was resolute and unwavering. Gunshots thundered on behind his words.
“My people are strong.”
You’d be shocked how disgustingly tough, strong, and tenacious they are.
—
While Yohan was facing Noah, Hajin had loaded a massive patterned steel plate—big enough to be a door—onto the Elcar.
Curious eyes turned his way.
“What is that?”
“Steel plate.”
“No, yeah, I can see that… but where the hell did you get something like that, man?”
“From over by the control box or whatever.”
When Hajin set the plate down with a thud, a loud impact echoed.
As he grunted and strained to move it, the screech of metal dragging across the floor rang out. People winced at the grating sound.
“So, what’s this for?”
“Shield. We’ll move forward when the signal comes.”
“Did you forget? Our job is just to draw attention from the front.”
“I know. But once the battle starts, I’m using this as a shield to push the line straight to the center where Yohan is. I’m not planning to fight with him in front of me.”
The search team went silent at Hajin’s firm words. It was, in a way, a defiance of orders. Tension spiked in the air as the team nervously glanced between them. After a pause, Sweeper blinked widely and casually called out to him.
“Hey, One-arm.”
“What.”
“Normally, I just think of you as a stiff, annoying muscle-head…”
“What did you just say? You looking for a fight?”
“But I really like you right now. Guys, we’re not seriously gonna let our squad leader walk into enemy territory alone, are we?”
“No, sir!”
Their faces instantly brightened as they shouted in unison. Despite the looming battle and risk of injury or worse, the atmosphere was light. It was as if they’d all caught Sweeper’s energy.
There was a clear difference between when he led and when Yohan led.
Yohan brought calm and composure.
Sweeper made it feel like they were already marching to a won battle—excited and hyped.
Either way, it never felt like they would lose.
Sweeper glanced at the steel plate standing like a wall and tilted his head.
“It looks super thick, but can it actually stop bullets?”
“Dunno. Want to test it?”
Sweeper knocked on the plate. It was several layers thick and looked solid.
Still, they couldn’t bet their lives on maybes. With a wave of his hand, he signaled everyone to step back.
He fitted a suppressor onto his Glock and angled it to prevent ricochet.
The silenced pistol fired, and the bullet punched through several layers before lodging in. There was still plenty of plate left.
“This much thickness—5mm or 7mm rounds probably won’t punch through, right?”
“Sir, anti-personnel rifles can’t penetrate steel thicker than 0.5cm. They’ll go through five or six people easy, but not this. I think it could even stop armor-piercing rounds.”
Sergeant Ong chimed in.
“Through five people? That’s brutal. Anyway, seems safe enough. Just gotta watch your feet.”
Sweeper looked at the Elcar supporting the plate. There was a small gap between its base and the ground, but no one seemed likely to fire through it. This steel plate would be a solid wall.
“Seriously, how’d you even load this thing? You’re a damn monster.”
“Men run on strength. Muscle is everything.”
“R-right.”
Hajin puffed up his chest in pride, and Sweeper let out a snort. No doubt he had grunted through it, hauling it bit by bit—but effort deserved praise.
“Alright, the advance team will be me, Hajin, and Ong.”
“I’ll go instead. Ong’s firepower is way more useful from a distance. No need for him to walk into danger.”
Hyuk stepped in, stopping Sergeant Ong who had tried to volunteer. Lately, Hyuk had been quick to throw himself into risky missions.
He’s gonna get himself killed at this rate.
Sweeper nodded with a worried expression.
It was concerning, but at the same time, a little admirable. In a world where self-preservation was the norm, it meant something to see someone risk their life like that.
“Good. That’s what a squad leader should be. A real leader.”
He slapped Hyuk heartily on the back. Hyuk winced from the impact.
“The three of us will push the steel plate all the way to where Yohan is. While we’re doing that, take down anyone who peeks around the corners. No pointless deaths, got it? Especially you, our elite sharpshooter Ong—I can count on you, right?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll blow their heads clean off.”
“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
This time Sweeper patted Sergeant Ong’s back—who also winced in pain.
“Ow… that hurts…”
“Quit whining.”
After relaying the squad assignments and action plan, Sweeper radioed the old man in the mercenary unit.
“Merc unit, this is Camp Yohan.”
—You again, brat?
“Not the brat, just his number one underling, old man.”
—Ah, that long-haired punk who looks like some girly kid?
“It’s not long hair, it’s….”
Sweeper pulled a face at the old man’s harsh insult, and laughter broke out among the others.
—What do you want?
“We’re calling in that backup you promised.”
—Already?
“We’ve clashed with Yeouido Camp. We’re in a standoff in the Noryangjin Station transfer tunnel and Yohan’s stuck right in the middle of enemy lines.”
—What?! The brat is?!
“So please enter from the Line 9 entrance of Noryangjin Station and cover our rear. We’ll handle the front.”
—Got it. Damn reckless kids.
With a sharp tsk, the comms cut off. Sweeper muttered, “Grumpy old man,” as he clipped the radio back to his shoulder.
The trigger had been pulled. Time to settle things.
Now, how will this battle end? Sweeper wore an excited grin.
Moments passed.
Beep-beep. Beep-beep.
The radio in Sweeper’s hand chirped twice. No voice followed.
That was the signal.
Sweeper gestured silently. No enemies in sight yet from the far side. He signaled the waiting mercenary unit.
“Old man, are you ready?”
—Ready to roll, brat.
“Roger. Begin.”
—Just smash anything in sight, right? What about the brat?
“We’ll secure our commander. You go wild.”
—Fine. You sound just like your boss. I like it.
The exchange was short. Sweeper cracked his neck and readied his weapon.
“All right, let’s push. Hajin.”
“Haah!”
With a shout, Hajin pushed the Elcar packed with steel plating. Sweeper and Hyuk crouched in behind it.
When they suddenly turned the corner, the Yeouido Camp survivors started murmuring at the sight.
But before they could even think, bullets rained down on anyone who stuck out their heads. The shots came from 500 meters out, each one striking sharp and true.
“Push in!”
As the Elcar neared the center, the sound of gunfire intensified. Bullets fired by the enemy pinged off the plate or got embedded.
There were more bullets flying from behind than from the front.
The cover fire was perfect.
“Stop.”
Sweeper halted them exactly by the side of the café. Any farther, and they’d be within range of thrown weapons.
Where they stood now was relatively safe even if the enemy threw grenades.
Of course, there was one guy here who didn’t exactly care about what “safe range” meant.
“Hajin!”
“Yaaaah!”
Hajin hurled a grenade with all his strength. After months of training, his throwing arm could rival a pro baseball player’s. His max range was far beyond normal.
The grenade soared dozens of meters and exploded against the far end of the corner.
BOOM!
Shrapnel scattered and cries of pain rang out.
The chaos beyond the steel shield was palpable.
Sweeper ordered another throw, and once again, the grenade landed dead-on at the corner. Those who barely survived the first blast screamed in despair.
“Advance. Push it.”
At Sweeper’s command, Hajin and Hyuk pushed again. The steel plate reached the smoke-choked corner quickly, and they stopped again.
Flesh and smoke floated in the air. Gunfire rang out from across the bend—likely the mercs clearing the rear.
As the smoke began to clear, Sweeper spoke.
“Turn. One, two, three.”
The three of them pushed the shield around the corner in unison. The first thing they saw were writhing bodies torn by grenade fragments—and the old mercenary, perched at the top of the opposite staircase, mowing down enemies with a machine gun.
Sweeper ducked as stray rounds flew everywhere. The mercs were going full Rambo, spraying heavy machine guns and SMGs like maniacs.
“Damn, that’s brutal.”
Even while speaking, Sweeper popped out now and then to fire shots of his own. His words were drowned out by the noise, so the others stayed silent.
“We’d better pull back. Stay here much longer and we’ll get holes in us too.”
Sweeper stepped away from the shield and called the team from the rear. He stopped the ones trying to push up to join them.
“Boss, shouldn’t we finish this off?”
“Forget it. The mercs are going berserk. You’ll get clipped by a stray. Those are armor-piercing rounds. One hit and you’re dead.”
“Uh… what about the commander? Should we go in?”
“No, let him be. He’ll handle it. Let’s trust him. For now, we take out anyone trying to run. Easy pickings.”
