Training continued the entire way.

  Whenever the column halted, no one said rest.Instead, the same command always came.

  “Form ranks.”

  A brief stop was not rest.It was preparation for the next movement.

  “Dress the line!”“Unload equipment!”

  Before backs could straighten, hands were already at the carts.

  Leather straps crusted with sweat and dust clung to their palms.After hours of marching, everything felt heavier—as if weight had doubled while no one was looking.

  “Fire-ready within half a gak!”

  The order cut in.

  Quivers were torn open.Heavy crossbows dragged free.

  Ropes tied tight during the march refused to loosen.The harder fingers pulled, the more grit flew into eyes.

  “Faster!”“Move!”

  The commander’s voice rang like iron.

  Horses pinned their ears.Shoulders flinched by instinct.

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  “Firing stance!”

  Soldiers dropped to one knee.

  The moment knees struck the ground, dust burst upward.

  “Load!”“Loaded!”“Fire!”

  Steel cords drew tight.

  Dozens of bolts tore through the air at once.The sound split the field.

  Some arrows struck.Others vanished into dust and wind.

  “Reload!”“Too slow!”

  Breath shortened with each repetition.

  Arms trembled.Feeling dulled at the fingertips.

  Someone misseated a string and sliced a finger.Blood mixed with sweat; dust clung to it.

  Still, the commands did not stop.

  “Dress the line!”“Advance again!”

  Gear was hauled up.Soldiers mounted.

  With numb fingers unable to tie knots properly, they ran anyway.

  Someone gasped,

  “Is this training… or rehearsal for dying?”

  Another answered flatly,

  “At this point, can you tell the difference?”

  Then the wind rose.

  The smell of iron scattered through the dust.

  Seongjin tightened the reins and drew a breath.

  The smell was familiar.

  Old leather.Oiled wood.Cold metal.

  The smell of his father’s equipment.

  Something in the center of his chest throbbed faintly.

  Following this smell,my father must have gone all the way out there too.

  He did not slow his horse.

  When the order came, he ran again.

  Breath flooded his chest.Vision blurred.

  His legs did not stop.

  From within the dust, Hwang Hyeon-pil’s voice cracked.

  “Hold formation!”“Do not slow!”

  Wherever the sound passed, soldiers’ shadows stretched long.

  When training finally ended, the evening sky was already burning red.

  Someone said quietly,

  “At this rate, even if the real fight comes…there won’t be time to dodge.”

  Seongjin did not answer.

  On the back of his hand, blood and dust were caked together.

  The firing drills repeated during the march were not practice.

  They were a sign.

  The enemy was already near.

  Perhaps the real battle would arrivewithout ever announcing itself—and be fought exactly like this.

  As he realized that,Seongjin felt something settle inside him.

  Not resolve.Not fear.