53
He emerged from within the flames.At first, he did not look human.Something was advancing through the tangle of smoke and fire—the outline of a horse, the line of a spear, and a single shadow mounted above them.Seongjin rubbed his blood-filmed eyes.This was the moment when everyone believed it was over.
But the movement did not stop.As the flames split and the smoke was pushed aside, the formation revealed itself.The stride did not break.Shields locked together.Spear points advanced at the same height.Amid chaos, a single order alone was moving forward.
At its very front stood Baekin-gun.He carried only a sword—no shield—stepping across scorched stone.His armor was blackened, the ornaments on his shoulders melted out of shape.Blood ran down him.Whose blood it was did not matter.
Even so, his back and shoulders were solid.The moment Seongjin saw that back, an instinctive fear rose in him.That man did not expect miracles.He was not trying to reverse defeat.He was forcing forward one fact alone with his body: the battle was not over.
Baekin-gun did not turn his head.He did not check behind him.As if there were no reason to announce his presence, he walked only forward.Behind him, soldiers gathered—the survivors, those who had scattered and returned, those who bled yet did not release their spears.No one waited for orders.They moved simply by fixing themselves to his back.
Then Baekin-gun paused.It was a very brief moment.He lowered his head, as if sensing something within the smoke.Seongjin held his breath.
Their eyes did not meet.The distance was great.Yet Seongjin was certain.Baekin-gun had felt the remaining line.While others were accepting defeat, he had already seized the next phase.
That was enough.Baekin-gun moved forward again and threw out a single word.
"Hold."
With that one word, the direction of the battle inside the city shifted.Only then did Seongjin breathe.His heart found its rhythm again.
That man had not returned.He had entered to bring this battle to its conclusion.Within the flames, Liaoyang endured.At its center stood the unyielding back of Baekin-gun.
The End of Yarutai
Flames twisted through every alley of the city.Heated stone burst, spreading the stench of flesh and blood.Yarutai looked down on the scene from horseback.
The South Gate was gone.The bastions had collapsed.Goryeo's banners had been swallowed by fire.He believed victory was in his grasp.But that certainty scattered as quickly as flame.
First, a roar rose from the north.It was unfamiliar—not a ragged shout, but a low, heavy sound with an unbroken rhythm.Drums.
"From the rear! Look behind us!"
As he turned at his adjutant's cry, the end of the alley was already stained red.A wave of iron spears surged through the fire.Sparks burst from shield faces; blood and flame flashed on every spear point.
Above it, Goryeo's banner rose.
"…Baekin-gun."
Yarutai ground his teeth.Blood from a wound on his brow ran into his eyes.Only then did he understand.The collapse of the South Gate had not been an accident.Blowing the gate was Baekin-gun's decision.When chance overlaps, it becomes intent—strategy.
"Withdraw! Break out through the west gate!"
The command scattered into the air.The west gate was already ash.The retreat was sealed.The alleys were narrow.The flames were high.Soldiers trampled one another and fell.The line between the living and the dead blurred within the fire.
Yarutai spurred his horse toward the heart of the city.There stood the red banner he had raised as a mark of victory—now burning.
"Reform the rear! Secure the inner—"
Before the words ended, cavalry surged in from the west.Hooves kicked stone aside and flooded the alley.At their head was Baekin-gun.
He was charging through the flames,holding a single sword, wearing blackened armor.
"Yarutai!"
The name cut through the fire.
"Your arrogance forged today's defeat."
Yarutai leveled his spear, knowing what end this choice would bring.
"Baekin-gun! You who stain the battlefield with schemes—by the blade, face me head-on—"
The words drowned in chaos.Soldiers fell. Horses screamed.The two men faced each other.For an instant, time seemed to stop.
Yarutai charged.The spear struck like lightning.Baekin-gun angled his sword aside.
Steel struck steel.Once.Twice.On the third, the spear snapped.
There was no cinematic exchange.
Baekin-gun's blade drove beneath Yarutai's breastplate, into the place where breath lives.Yarutai tried to turn his horse, but the animal reared in terror at the flames.His body was thrown into the air and slammed across the stone.
Coughing blood, he laughed.
"…So this is the end."
Baekin-gun stepped forward and stood before him.Yarutai pressed a blood-soaked hand to the ground.
"I lost."
With that word, strength left his fingers.Flames wrapped around his body.In his final sight, the sky was stained red.And Goryeo's banner burned and swayed.
Baekin-gun stood there for a moment.The wind rose, and fire covered the corpse.Quietly, he sheathed his sword.
"Raise the banner. Liaoyang is ours again."
The burning banner fell.In its place, a new banner—soaked in ash and blood—was raised.Even within the fire, it stood to the very end.