Chapter 61

Upstairs, Horne held Hels as he slept, quietly.

He didn’t know how to describe his thoughts at the time. When he explained to Hels why he had given alms to the homeless man, the snow Hels had thrown gave him an idea.

Because he wanted to become that light.

There was no need to say it out loud; someone as unique as Hels would understand.

Light erupted in the distant north.

That night, the entire Loch City was jolted awake by a massive explosion from the north.

A beam of light surged from the ground, like a howling, twisting gale that tore through the clouds and shot straight into the sky, illuminating the heavens as bright as day.

Most residents of Loch City woke up and stood by their windows, gazing toward the horizon.

The Military District sounded the level-one defense alarm, and the Control Tower activated the Electromagnetic Net’s emergency overclock mode.

Horne headed to the Control Tower first. Within minutes, many people from the Military District arrived. They stood at the city’s highest point, overlooking the beam of light, ready to respond to any sudden developments. The wind blew so fiercely that they had to strain to keep serious expressions.

“Is that… the Scandinavian Snowforest?” someone asked. No one answered.

They used “Scandinavian Snowforest” to refer to the even more northern frozen wastelands, the place where the Aliens came from.

However, the beam of light lasted less than an hour before it suddenly extinguished, leaving no further sound.

The general ordered strengthened defenses both inside and outside the city, with more personnel assigned to guard the Control Tower.

The chaos continued until late into the night. Once it was confirmed that nothing had happened, Horne finally went home, with Han Ya following behind him. Han Ya said it was almost dawn anyway, and since Horne lived nearby, he might as well crash on his sofa for a bit.

As soon as he opened the door, a piercing scream came from upstairs.

“Fuck, what the hell? You abusing kids or something?” Han Ya was stunned. He pointed upstairs.

Horne immediately rushed to the attic.

The incident had happened suddenly. The moment he was woken by the explosion, he had rushed to the Control Tower without even checking on Hels.

Things on the bedside table had been swept to the floor—glass bottles, books, shards everywhere. Hels roared like a madman, screaming as he charged outward.

“Hels!” Horne stopped him. He hurried over, but as soon as he got close, a fist slammed into his chest.

With chaotic footsteps, Hels ran downstairs and crashed right into Han Ya. Han Ya had no idea what was going on. He stared at the frenzied Hels and the hurriedly descending Horne, full of question marks.

Could Horne really be abusing kids at home?

Hels rushed into the kitchen, yanked out a knife, and pointed it straight at the two men opposite him. His hand trembled—it was that vigilant stance again.

Horne raised his hands and slowly approached. “Calm down, it’s me,” he said softly.

He had no idea what had happened, what had turned Hels like this. Considering the kid’s background, Horne could only think of one possibility: it was related to his past.

But Horne knew nothing about his past and could only try to calm him down.

“Hels, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Hels held the knife tightly, his arm tensed, his bloodshot eyes glaring at them.

Horne inched closer, step by step. “Don’t be afraid,” he said as he moved.

He reached Hels’s side and hadn’t yet disarmed him when Hels suddenly grabbed Horne’s clothes, yanked him back a step.

Horne hadn’t expected the move and stumbled, falling to the ground. Then the knife wrapped around his neck, the blade digging into his skin. The hand holding it still trembled.

“Fuck!” Han Ya finally realized something was wrong. He was dumbfounded.

This kid was threatening Horne?

He rolled up his sleeves to intervene, but Horne stopped him. “Don’t come over! It’s fine.”

If he really wanted to counter, it would take a second. He just didn’t know what had set Hels off like this. The knife gleamed on his neck, pressing harder, choking his throat painfully. If it sliced across now, it wouldn’t look good.

Horne raised his hand to cover Hels’s knife hand. The other thought he was about to act and pressed harder.

Han Ya froze in place. Horne didn’t move either. Only Hels remained viciously triggered.

“Hels, it’s Horne.”

Hels couldn’t remember what he had been thinking then. His mind was filled only with Horne’s voice, twisted and intertwined.

“I’m Horne.” He said it softly, without aggression.

He was Horne.

His brain gradually cleared from the chaos.

The knife loosened. Horne tentatively gripped it and, seeing Hels didn’t pull back, gently drew it from his hand. He finally breathed a sigh of relief. Meeting Hels’s pained expression, he immediately pulled him into his arms and patted his back. “I’m here.”

“Shit,” Han Ya muttered under his breath, his muscles relaxing.

Horne could guess that Hels’s near-death experience had been caused by the Aliens, but he didn’t want to dwell on it, so Horne didn’t ask.

The next day, Horne received notice that the general wanted troops dispatched to investigate near the explosion site from the night before. Han Ya and Wen Yu were assigned to lead the team, while Horne stayed in the city to guard against possible invasions.

Internal defense spending increased, further reducing the chances of proactive strikes. Rumors of allowing residents to carry guns within the city became more common, as did doubts about the military, but the government and military made no response.

The explosion that night seemed like a brief anomaly. Invasions didn’t increase, and Loch City remained safe.

Months later, Han Ya and Wen Yu’s team returned to Loch City. They confirmed that the Scandinavian Snowforest housed a new massive Alien gathering ground, which had formed who-knows-when. They had conducted several rounds of long-range extermination, but the numbers were too vast to wipe out. They also discovered a device similar to the Obelisk, its purpose unknown.

The general drafted a plan for a long-term military presence in the Scandinavian Snowforest, building a new underground base there. Han Ya and Wen Yu would still lead it, mainly as an information relay and to intercept small-scale Alien advances southward.

One message after another came in. At first, Horne found it headache-inducing, but he grew accustomed to it. The only thing that left him a bit downcast was that with Han Ya and Wen Yu sent out of the city to lead the northward team, they would have very little time left in Loch City.

But the Aliens in the north did need a relay for real-time monitoring, and those two were the best choices. Horne had no complaints—at least Ben Yian and Hels were still around.

Hels’s training had also gotten on track. Horne didn’t let him spend all day in the training field, so he mostly read books at home in the mornings and joined training in the afternoons and evenings. Even so, his progress outpaced the others.

The training field’s open area spanned several kilometers, where soldiers from various districts usually trained. Besides leading sessions, Horne never paid special attention to Hels. Their interactions were like any ordinary superior and subordinate. Han Ya, on the other hand, kept a deliberate eye on him—a gaze that chilled to the bone.

[Horne: [Request to distribute normal amount of supplies!!]]

[Leon: [Request denied.]]

[Horne: [Where’s the unreasonableness???]]

Irritated, Horne closed the terminal and shifted his attention to the sparring field, walking over slowly.

Hels had just climbed up from the ground, repeating the same moves as the others. Han Ya’s gaze shot over like a hawk’s. He strode forward in an instant, mercilessly grabbed Hels’s arm, and slammed him hard onto the solid ground. Hels let out a cry of pain.

Han Ya showed no mercy. “If it hurts, that’s right. The Aliens won’t care if you’re in pain when they kill you.”

Most of this batch of recruits were in their early teens, with Hels still the youngest, but facing the harshest intensity.

They had thought a period of hard training would smooth Hels’s edges, but as soon as Han Ya flipped him down, the kid suddenly exploded into attack—only to get stomped flat.

Perhaps it jarred a bone out of place; Hels let out a miserable scream. The nearby soldiers held their breath, not daring to speak.

Just as it looked like Han Ya would injure him, Horne intervened differently. “Han Ya, how long has this squad been training today?”

Han Ya had eased his grip slightly to answer when Hels shouted like he saw hope: “Horne!”

Instantly, the foot pressed down harder. Han Ya barked, “What do you call him?”

Hels gritted his teeth in pain, his voice squeezing through: “Major, Major.”

“Don’t think learning fast will make me think any better of you!” Han Ya gave him one last kick. “Little brat, who said you could call Horne by name?”

When Hels had been brought out by Horne, he limped along behind. Horne walked fast, and Hels stopped after a few steps.

Horne turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Hels stood there, silent for a long moment before saying, “It hurts.”

Horne turned around fully but didn’t go to him. He just extended a hand. “Everyone hurts. Walk over slowly.”

Basic physical training and discipline were usually led by Han Ya, whose fiery temper exploded at the slightest provocation, becoming a nightmare for many. But Horne rarely interfered with his methods. At this stage, the recruits all had their own tempers, and no one was better suited to handling these kids than Han Ya.

The later shooting training and anti-Alien specialized training would fall to Horne.

The anti-Alien specialized training had originally been led personally by the general. General Al’s top soldier was Wen Yu, always calm and prescient—a trait tied to her unit. After the general’s death, Wen Yu took it over, and later passed it to Horne. General Leon approved, reasoning that Horne needed to participate and instruct personally to gradually overcome his fear and hatred of the Aliens, achieving psychological desensitization and maturity.

But with Han Ya and Wen Yu out of the city, all training would fall to Horne for a time, until a suitable deputy could share the load.

It also meant his time was further squeezed; he might never again have the chance to go out alone to exterminate Aliens.

In the Command Room, Horne gripped Hels’s leg and slowly reset the bone, letting him lie there to rest while massaging the swollen area.

It wasn’t too serious—Han Ya knew how to control his strength—but the pain was unavoidable.

Thinking of this, Horne casually asked, “You interested in the air force? That’s where Bai—”

“No,” Hels said without thinking. “I want to stay on the ground.”

That area had nothing to do with Horne; even the training field was far from their usual spots. But for Horne, ground or air made no difference.

Hels glanced cautiously at Horne, his voice tiny. “Horne.”

Horne looked up, glancing at him. “What should you call me?”

Hels pursed his lips, refusing to say “Major.”

“If you don’t want punishment, call me Major. Or sir. If you want to use my name, save it for after we get home tonight.” Horne’s voice was cold. Ever since Hels had come to this training field in the Military District, he had always been like this.

Hels looked at him and called out, “Brother.”

“Brother works too, but only after we get home tonight.”

The door pushed open, letting in a rush of noise from outside before cutting it off again.

As soon as Han Ya entered, he saw Horne massaging Hels’s injury. He froze for a second, tossed the anti-swelling ointment next to Hels, rolled his eyes. “Stinky kid, daring to get the major to rub you down personally? Don’t think living with him makes you special.”

He went to the desk, rummaged through drawers, then the file cabinet, muttering as he searched. “You know Bai Yin got punished?”

Horne didn’t stop what he was doing or look up. “Yeah? For what?”

“Lost it. Went blind during an Alien hunt and shot down one of our own fighters.”

“He’d make that kind of mistake?” Horne chuckled.

Han Ya kept rummaging. “That’s why I said he lost it. Weird, where’s my ruler? Oh right…”