“The War Department! It’s the Sword Clan’s War Department!”

A spotter raced through the Military Strategy Bureau’s encampment, screaming at the top of his lungs like a man possessed. At first, the assembled strategists merely stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

“What is he raving about?” one asked, scoffing. “The War Department?”

The arrogance was particularly thick among the senior members. “Scout Captain,” one of them said, addressing the leader of the Namgung long-range scouts, “have you received any reports?”

“Reports…?” The Captain looked bewildered. “No. There has been absolute silence from the perimeter.”

The strategists accompanying the scouts shared a collective shrug. “Then there is no reason to trouble the Grand Strategist. He’s already on edge enough as it is.”

If the Captain of the elite Namgung long-range scouts, a unit raised with immense effort and capital by the Great Namgung Clan itself, had seen nothing, then there was nothing to see. It was that simple.

“There have always been men like that on the battlefield,” an elder strategist remarked with a dry chuckle. “Weak spirits who succumb to hysteria the moment the blood starts flowing. Tsk, tsk. It reminds me of the old days.”

The mockery was so pervasive that the few junior members who felt a prickle of unease chose to keep their mouths shut. However, the Scout Captain didn’t share their mirth. He stood up slowly, a lingering sense of discomfort written across his face.

“Captain? Where are you going?”

“I’m going to conduct a personal inspection of the field,” the Captain replied, gathering his gear.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Even if the boy is crazy…” The senior strategists grumbled. With a mountain of work to do, having a key commander leave his post over a hunch was far from ideal.

“No,” the Captain said, his expression hardening. “The Sword Clan’s War Department may have declined in recent years, but historically, they are an organization that must never be underestimated.”

He turned on his heel without waiting for a rebuttal.

“Stubborn fool,” one muttered. “Imagine not trusting your own men…”

The Captain ignored the grumbling, his instincts screaming of impending disaster as he pushed open the heavy, reinforced door of the armored carriage. But as he prepared to step out, he froze.

“Report… I have a report…!”

A messenger stumbled toward the carriage, gasping for breath. “A request for aid… from the Dread King’s command center…!”

“The King?”

The strategists inside the carriage barely had time to turn their heads before the messenger shrieked the rest.

“A surprise assault by the War Department! The Cannibal Riders Brigade has been annihilated! We need mobile reinforcements immediately—!”

“…”

The room went deathly silent.

“What?! How—?”

Before they could even process the reality, a sound began to fill the air. It was a whistle that could have been mistaken for common arrows, or perhaps the collective swing of a hundred blades.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The Scout Captain felt it first. “EVERYONE GET DOWN!”

This time, no one stopped to question him.

CRACK!

The first thing they saw was a projectile punching through the messenger’s skull, pinning his head to the dirt floor outside the carriage door.

“A javelin…?”

Hardly had the word been whispered when the storm arrived.

THUD! CRACK! SHHH-THWACK!

Dozens of javelins erupted through the heavy plating of the armored carriage like steel thorns growing from the iron. Fortunately for the occupants, the carriages had been specifically reinforced to protect non-combatant strategists, and the armor held just enough to prevent a total breakthrough.

“H-help me!”

“My shoulder! My shoulder—!”

But the mercy was incomplete. The javelins that remained half-buried in the hull had skewered those sitting in their path, and the interior of the carriage was instantly filled with the screams of men who hadn’t been granted the mercy of a quick death. They writhed in agony, their lifeblood painting the cabin in a grisly, hot crimson.

“Fuck! This is insane!” The Scout Captain, having drawn a dagger to parry two projectiles that had breached the gap, roared at the front partition. “What are you doing?! Evasive maneuvers! Move the carriage now!”

There was no response.

Realization struck him like a physical blow. “Dammit…!”

The drivers were dead. The initial volley had targeted the exposed seats with surgical precision.

Directly hit by long-range javelins from the War Department…

He had to move. He had to take the reins of the surviving horses himself. “Those who can still move, take control of the vehicles! Report the damage! We need to break out of this kill zone!”

Outside, the camp was a hellscape of chaos. Fortunately, the presence of numerous warriors meant the Military Strategy Bureau wasn’t entirely wiped out by a single volley, and they could potentially survive a second strike, but the priority was relocation.

Yet the Scout Captain remained inside, his eyes fixed on the blood-spattered tactical map. “Something is wrong…”

Javelins were indeed the War Department’s specialty, but there was a discrepancy in this attack he couldn’t ignore. He shoved aside a dying strategist and leaned over the map.

Right here…

“The messenger just said the Cannibal Riders Brigade was wiped out,” he muttered, his eyes darting across the symbols. His blood ran cold. “The Cannibal Riders Brigade’s position was on the exact opposite side of the battlefield from us!”

The Military Strategy Bureau was stationed in a rear-guard position, purposefully kept away from the direct reach of the fighting. For the War Department to hit them from there…

“They launched an ultra-long-range strike that cleaved through the entire width of the battlefield?” His face went pale with shock.

***

“War Department Javelin Corps…!”

“First Row! Release and Rotate!”

“Second Row, prepare…!”

“Second Row, release…!”

At the command, a young warrior of the War Department stepped forward, steadying his breathing. A single javelin waited for him, planted in the earth at his feet. The weapon was pristine, its surface treated with a non-reflective coating that swallowed the light of the setting sun, a tool designed for nothing but maximum lethality.

Huff…

He checked the alloy launcher in his hand. The device, custom-designed to maximize the principle of leverage, felt like a natural extension of his own arm.

“Single bolt, load…!”

Following the cadence, he locked the heavy javelin into the launcher. The craftsmanship was so precise, the fit so perfect, that it provided a fleeting sense of professional satisfaction.

“Look at those War Department losers,” the voices of the main branch warriors echoed in his memory, recalling the days of their training. “I heard they don’t even have a budget this year. Are they really practicing with wooden spears? The legendary War Department is finished.”

“Oh, look! They’re carving them by hand! Are they putting weights on them to match the real things? Hahaha!”

The laughter and the mockery had been relentless, but they had never stopped. They had carved their own weapons and trained until their hands bled and their muscles screamed. And their new Lord, Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon, had rewarded that grueling perseverance with these perfect, god-tier weapons.

“Ultra-long-range javelin…!”

The time for results had arrived.

“Commence Volley!”

He didn’t need to calculate the trajectory or the internal energy output. His body remembered every nuance.

Hmph…!

Using a specialized footwork developed solely for this strike, he generated massive acceleration. He arched his back like a drawn bow, and through the snap of his frame and the rotation of his torso, he unleashed a staggering surge of Silk Reeling Force into the javelin.

The moment the weapon left the launcher, he felt a wave of pure, unadulterated catharsis.

But he wasn’t done.

“Prepare!”

The first javelin lacked the full power to reach the enemy’s rear command, as its energy would be spent clearing the intermediate ranks.

“Commence Sequential Volley!”

Before the order had even finished, the Second Row had already loaded. Because the warriors of the First Row had moved back to reload exactly where they had stood, the momentum was never lost.

Hup!

Using the recoil from the first throw as a springboard, they executed the footwork again, adding even more torque and internal energy to the second release. He didn’t even look to see the second javelin arc into the sky.

It wasn’t enough.

Click.

He loaded the third javelin, his meridians humming with the power harvested from the previous two rotations.

“UAAAAAAAAAGH!”

As the third javelin screamed into the air, he knew instinctively that it would hit its mark. Just as the First Row had done, his spear would traverse the entire battlefield to strike the heart of the enemy’s brains.

It’s a direct hit…!

***

“(The enemy is coming!)”

A Northern field commander shouted, his voice already ragged. Aside from the javelin teams raining death from afar, the primary combat units of the War Department were closing the distance at a terrifying speed.

“(Crossbowmen, to the front!)”

“(Form ranks! FORM RANKS!)”

He had no time to wait for his men to stabilize their formation. In any battle, the first strike was everything. Dammit! If only the Namgung scouts had done their job, we could have prepared for this!

“(Crossbowmen, prepare iron-bolts!)”

“(W-we’re still loading, sir!)”

The enemy was the Sword Clan’s War Department, an army of elite warriors. Their closing speed was monstrous.

“(It doesn’t matter!)” the commander roared, waving his massive blade. “(Fire as soon as you’re—!)”

Flash.

CLANG!

He watched in slow motion as his heavy blade shattered in his hand.

“(…?!)”

Lying in the dirt was the culprit: a lead pellet the size of a walnut.

“(A bullet…?)”

Before he could process the sight, his lieutenant’s scream reached his ears. “(General! The enemy… they’re too fast!)”

As he looked up, he saw a few of his crossbowmen finally manage to release their bolts, but before the iron shafts could even reach the enemy lines—

“OPEN FIRE!”

At the command, a wall of thick smoke and blinding flashes erupted from the War Department’s vanguard.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

A storm of lead swept through their ranks.

“(GAAAAAAAGH!)”

“(Cough…!)”

Blood mist filled the air, and the screams of his dying men echoed across the field. Amidst the slaughter, the General’s mind reeled with shock.

The War Department… the defunded, abandoned War Department… is using expensive firearms?!