Chapter 8: Eyes and Eyes
The child’s slender fingers wavered in the air, struggling to pinpoint the Invisible’s location.
But after a fleeting moment—
“—It’s over there.”
Her hesitant fingers settled on a direction, like an arrow finding its mark.
I, watching from behind—
Click—
“—Cut.”
I drew my sword.
No slow-motion world, no dramatic sound effects.
My blade, drawn without a hint of hesitation, shot from its sheath and swung toward the creature’s presumed position.
Looking back, it was a reckless strike, staking everything on the word of a child not even ten years old.
But when my sword met a heavy resistance, unlike cutting air, I knew my decision was right.
Yes.
“Got you, you rat.”
[“■■, ■■■?!”]
Slash—
I struck the Invisible.
With a dull thud, its body split in two.
The corpse, if you could call it that, lay beside the first one we’d taken down.
Current time: 12:56 PM.
Twenty minutes since the subjugation began.
“Ugh… I’m dying, Grandma… Waa, pat my head… Grandma’s hands are magic…”
“Sister from the response team, does it hurt a lot…?”
“…Sehee, have you finally lost it?”
At least she’s lucid enough to babble nonsense.
I held the child’s hand, glancing at Sehee, who was acting like a drunkard, and let out a small sigh.
Thankfully, after we took down the Invisible, Taehoon quickly applied first aid, stabilizing Sehee. Her condition, which could’ve warranted a one-way trip to the morgue, had improved. Her lips, once blue, regained color, and her sallow face looked better.
“Heehee… heehee…”
“No, no, kid, don’t touch that.”
Kid?
Yeah, kid.
She’s acting a bit unhinged, probably from blood loss, but once backup arrives and she’s rushed to the hospital, she’ll likely pull through.
As always, the higher-ups will probably order her back to the team soon enough.
Decades of fighting variants have advanced two things: weapons to kill more creatures and medical tech to save more lives.
The irony—more deaths lead to better ways to kill and save—makes me sigh.
Crack—
“Hehe, it’s warm.”
“…Yes. Good job, response team sister.”
Who’s the kid here, really?
Despite being blind, the child kept trying to comfort Sehee’s wounds. I sighed softly and sheathed my sword.
Sehee, barely twenty, lives on the edge of life and death. Her craving for affection, even in this delirious state, stems from being forced into a life of fighting variants at seventeen—an age for high school, not battle.
It’s harsh, but survival demands it.
Tap, tap—
“—Yes, yes. Both Invisibles in Seocho-gu have been neutralized. Got it. Ambulance is almost here? Understood.”
“Taehoon’s working hard too.”
The blaring alarm had stopped, thanks to Taehoon reporting to command via phone.
Soon, the Alert Control Center will announce the all-clear, and people hiding in shelters will return to their lives.
They won’t remember the fight here or the injuries a girl, who should be enjoying college life, endured.
Everything except “us” will return to normal.
As always.
Tap—
“—Ah.”
“…What’s wrong?”
Lost in thought after my rare mistake, I was snapped back by the child’s gasp.
I owed this unnamed kid a lot.
Sure, wandering into a dangerous place alone with just a cane—guardian or not—wasn’t praiseworthy, but her help saved us.
I should scold her, but I don’t enjoy yelling at kids.
Still, if I let this slide, she might do something this reckless again.
With that thought, I looked at her.
“…”
For some reason, the child, holding Sehee’s hand, was frozen.
Her expression mirrored the one she had when we first met—
Whoosh.
“—!!”
A chill ran through me, every hair standing on end.
I’d forgotten something critical.
Something I absolutely couldn’t miss.
Turning quickly, I saw the corpse of the Invisible I’d just sliced in two, its cloaking ability gone in death.
These creatures, lacking clear anatomy, are hard to kill. Some survive being cut into dozens of pieces. But for Invisibles, splitting their body in half usually stops them.
Its deactivated cloaking confirmed it was dead.
Next to it should’ve been the other Invisible’s corpse, taken down by Sehee’s attack and our follow-up—
…
What?
Where’s the other corpse?
The first Invisible, uncloaked by Sehee’s attack and finished by Taehoon and me, was gone.
Sensing something wrong, I turned to the child, who might hold the key—
Thwack!
“—!!”
There, the child was sent flying by a green tentacle that appeared from nowhere.
Unlike the light sound, the white figure hurtled dozens of meters, rolling across the ground, leaving a long red streak before stopping.
[“…”]
The green tentacle, having done its deed, quivered and stilled, as if satisfied.
Wee-oo, wee-oo—
“—What… what is this.”
“…”
Amid the approaching ambulance siren, I silently dropped my sword.
“Ow. Nice sister, I got hit out of the park.”
A soft sigh echoed in the darkness.
Shim Cheong
Got hit for a home run.
Thought the twitching corpse was just rigor mortis.
Since the response team believed it was dead, her judgment was delayed.
Pointing out the Invisible required raising her arm, turning, and aligning her hand with its direction—a process that inevitably took time.
That’s why she hesitated when indicating its position earlier.
When she noticed a tentacle moving toward them, there wasn’t time to explain, so she threw Sehee aside and took the hit herself.
Miraculously, Sehee avoided the attack’s path.
Q: How did it feel to get hit for a home run?
A: …
It hurt.
Like being struck by a truck.
By the way, couldn’t she have just said the tentacle was moving?
“…M-Mol?lu.”
She forgot.
Mutant
Hit a home run.
First time sending someone flying, and it found it quite moving.
This honor goes to ■͉̳͈̮̟̲͕̲̄͆̔͌̌͋͋̑͂■̥̲̞̗̙̰̲̈́̉̇͗͌■̞͉̲̣̮̞͍̪̗͙̳̀̑̉͐͗͌̀̑͊͛ who ■■ it—
Q: How did it feel to hit a home run?
A: Squeak squeak, squeak.
It felt good, haha.
Lee Hana
Made a mistake.
Both mutants were already lifeless.
So it wasn’t really her fault Cheong was sent flying, but she’ll never know.
She’s seen people die before her eyes, but this was the first time a young, helpless child was hurt due to her error.
“…”
No words.