“You’re sure that mod is safe?”

SinB hovered somewhat anxiously while Umji ran diagnostics for the umpteenth time. Other silent lab techs bustled around the room they had semi-commandeered, but then again, the founder of the Spartan paramilitary forces had been more than generous with his resources.

It had come as a surprise to them all when Sowon brought them down to the hidden base, which had actually been a lot bigger than Sowon herself had been aware, since she hadn’t actually explored the place as much back when she had last been there.

Not that it should shock anyone that the Spartans had such resources at their disposal. As a private military force that subcontracted out its services to various parties, they were more than just a mercenary unit writ large; it would not be an exaggeration to say that, on the Korean peninsula at least, the Spartans were one of the two major military powers, the other being Mireu further south.

“It’s certainly not anything commercially available,” Umji worried at her bottom lip while she scrutinized the data. The hacker had been approaching something resembling recovery since they had entered the facility three days ago, and been briefed on the situation at hand. SinB and Eunha had been almost delighted to hear of the upcoming assault, Yuju had not expressed any opinion, and Yerin had been almost uncharacteristically silent throughout their initial meeting with Commander Kim Bo-geun.

Umji was made to feel slightly less anxious now that they had backup at least, since every ounce of extra help would count if they were to take down a cult. It was just another job as far as she was concerned, just on a much larger scale. She had caught up quickly on what she had missed while being bedridden for a week, and had thrown herself back into the fray with enthusiasm. The bounty on them had an impressive number of zeros behind it, and all of them had frowned when they noted the special bonus on bringing ‘the fire mage’ in alive.

All of them had turned to look at Eunha when Umji announced that particular fact. Eunha only shrugged. How was she supposed to know why Mireu wanted to take her alive? It only cemented her determination to take down the dragon behind all of this though.

“It wouldn’t be, because that chip came from Bo-geun himself.”

Sowon commented from where she was lounging on the operating table, as if she weren’t the one about to have a new skillset uploaded directly into her cerebral cortex in a few minutes. Despite all her augmentations, it was ironically Sowon’s first time actually learning a skill via neural upload. She already had the skills from her time as a soldier before reawakening into the new world as a mercenary, despite her temporary amnesia in those twenty years, and never felt the need to really upload anything else despite having a datajack installed behind her ear.

But she needed to pick up actual swordfighting skills if she were to actually wield the vibro-blade Bo-geun had given her in battle, and Sowon knew her limits. She was competent at hand-to-hand combat and had some training with knife fighting from the old days, but swordfighting wasn’t part of the curriculum back then, and even Yerin was better than her with a knife if she were to be honest about it. They didn’t have time to learn it the old fashioned way, and as it turned out, Bo-geun had already considered that possibility early on.

The elderly but still canny commander of the Spartans had clearly done his homework on all of them, a fact that still made Sowon a little uncomfortable. Her old friend had changed a great deal in the last few decades, and his struggle with Mireu had gradually shaped him into cold ruthlessness, ready to use any and all means at his disposal.

He had also prepped customized weaponry for all of the combatants on the team; the aforementioned vibro-blade for Sowon, a short dagger with the same tech for SinB, and oddly enough, twin knives for Yerin, slightly curved and made more for slashing than stabbing. Yerin had accepted both weapons with a complicated expression on her face, though SinB had broken the atmosphere immediately after with her complaining about why she only got one knife where Yerin got two. Bo-geun only smiled and asked if she could handle both at the same time. SinB would have argued the point, but it was also true that most of her knife training had actually come from Yerin in the last year. The gunslinger had grudgingly shut up at that.

For the magic users, Bo-geun had less to offer, but he also presented athames to both of them in case they needed to stab a scaly enemy at close range in a pinch. He also had defensive talismans for everyone, but Yuju had taken one look at those and offered to modify them for better effect. Which meant that for the last three days the shaman had been gleefully doing the magical equivalent of research and development, though she had rejected having outsiders observe her. The only person she would even tolerate coming through the door was Yerin, much to Eunha’s dismay, but she knew she had spooked the shaman earlier and had to bear with the consequences.

“Huh? Wait, you mean that’s his skills in that chip? That old man?” SinB didn’t seem impressed. Sowon reached over and knocked her on the forehead.

“Have some respect, Bo-geun was one of the best the Marines had to offer back in the day, and he has been fighting for years. I trust him.”

SinB scowled, unhappy that Sowon sounded so familiar with the man. Then again, that grandpa had one foot in the grave anyway, so SinB convinced herself that she didn’t have anything to worry about. She conveniently ignored the fact that Sowon was likely almost just as old. Not looking the part definitely helped a lot in this case.

“It’s definitely a customized mod, and I haven’t found any weird viruses or anything in it, so it should be safe,” Umji concluded, snapping back into reality while blinking rapidly. She still couldn’t immerse herself in the digital world for long periods of time without starting to get a headache, but the girl was glad enough that her ability still worked at all. The medical staff on site had given her a thorough checkup and confirmed that she would make full recovery in time, but she was going to have to take it easy until then.

“You sure you’re going to do this? I mean, you could learn the regular way.” SinB didn’t seem convinced by this particular course of action. She might have been comfortable with technology, but messing around with brain stuff spooked her more than a little. Techno-viruses were definitely a thing in this day and age, and something that could essentially melt your brain or rewire it entirely was scary as hell to her.

“Time, SinB. We can’t afford to keep hiding. I rather take the fight to them and end things before we got even more problems crashing the party.” Sowon shook her head.

“We aren’t the only high-level professionals operating in this country. And the longer we wait, the more time others tempted by the bounty will come. We can’t fight them all.”

“And this bounty is cancelled if the dragon dies?” SinB frowned, skeptical. Sowon lay down on the operating table and allowed Umji to attach the transfer cable to her datajack.

“It’s a little more complicated than that. We’ll have to take down Mireu as an organization while we’re at it, but that part is up to Bo-geun. The territorial feud between them has been around for decades, we’re just going in to erase the biggest threat while they invade from the outside.”

“So are we the distraction or the main force?” Eunha asked, leaning against the entryway casually. The mage had walked in a couple of minutes earlier, but they hadn’t noticed her. Or well, Umji had, but the hacker was also busy and didn’t think it was important enough to mention.

“Both.” Sowon smiled wryly. “We keep the dragon from decimating the Spartan forces when they attack, and the Spartans keep the cultists from sending reinforcements when we’re busy. It works out for everyone involved.” The ex-soldier tried to relax into a more comfortable position while Umji prepped for the data transfer.

“Any other questions? If not, I’m going to start.” Umji looked at the other two. The pair of childhood friends glanced at each other, then shrugged in unison. Eunha tapped SinB on the shoulder, maneuvering her best friend out of the room. The mage was not blind to how SinB was feeling in general, and figured that her best friend could use a bit of time away to relax instead of worrying. What else were friends for?

“Ready?” Umji glanced over at Sowon, who smiled up at her.

“Do it.”

The heft of the twin daggers was almost nostalgically familiar in her hands, and Yerin reversed them easily as she sliced through the throats of her foes after flipping over their shots. They dissolved into sparkles as the simulation faded, and she remained on one knee where she had landed, catching her breath.

Sheathing the blades in a fluid motion, Yerin removed the helmet that had been her link to the simulation. She was in an empty training room, ostensibly to reacquaint herself with her new knives. Bitterly, she thought she hadn’t forgotten a single thing despite no longer dual wielding in almost three years.

A slow clapping sound made her jerk defensively, the knives sliding out of their sheaths as she palmed them, ready to fight. Her wary stance shifted when she saw who it was, but she didn’t resheathe her blades, even if she did lower them.

“Commander.” She acknowledged stiffly. Bo-geun nodded, stepping into the training room he had opened to them. He had an almost fatherly smile on his face as he looked her over.

“I see you’ve forgotten none of your lessons.”

Yerin grit her teeth, tightening her grip around the handles. She had not expected to see him of all people in this place, at this time. She had been doing such a good job of avoiding everyone who had ever known her from before, but now it seemed like he had always known where she was. Bo-geun noticed the tension in her frame, and his lips twitched downwards.

“You are upset. No love for your old instructor?”

Yerin lowered her eyes. She had not seen him in almost twelve years, back when she was still a nameless orphan trying to survive. Only the best were selected, and Yerin had scrabbled her way through the harsh training to be one of the final trainees for the program. There she had met Kim Bo-geun, then already old but still fit, and he had been a guest instructor as far as she had been concerned. She hadn’t known he was the Spartan commander at the time. No one ever told them anything. They didn’t need to know anything until they graduated from the program. They only had to obey. That was all.

“No sir.” The response was almost instinctive, automatically straightening in his presence, and she hated herself for it.

Bo-geun exhaled slowly, walking over to her. Yerin suddenly felt like she was ten years old again, nameless and exhausted, and very very small. She was surprised when a hand landed on her shoulder, her wrists coiling to strike at the pressure, but she held back wisely. Kim Bo-geun might be old, but he had regularly wiped the floor with them even as a 60 year old man with a bad leg. She had learned that lesson well enough.

“You’ve grown up. It’s been a long time. You look exactly like I thought you would.” Bo-geun squeezed her shoulder briefly before stepping back. “I thought you had died at that mission in Seongnam.”

Yerin bit the inside of her cheek. “I almost did.” And god help me, everyone should think I have.

“If you’re wondering if anyone else knows, no. I told no one.” Bo-geun smiled faintly. “You’re a student of mine, and as you probably figured out by now, I am not beholden to your employers.”

Yerin looked up at him. “Then why were you there?”

“Business. The Spartans take contracts to train others on top of our other obligations.” Bo-geun’s lips smoothed into a thin line. “I...had not expected actual children until I was there, of course.” He sounded vaguely disapproving, but Yerin didn’t buy it for a second. He had drilled them as hard as he would fully grown adults back then. It meant nothing now to express disdain for child soldiers, when he was at least partially responsible for shaping them.

“You’ve disappeared very effectively, don’t worry. I certainly hadn’t noticed you until you joined Sojung’s team, and even then, I couldn’t be sure for a while. You’ve picked up more skills along the way, I see.” He sounded almost proud, and Yerin was almost ashamed of the surge of satisfaction she felt at his approval.

“I do my best.” Yerin couldn’t meet his eyes. It was a habit leftover from her training days. Getting too uppity meant extra work. Their instructors had held the power of life and death over them back then. Obedience had been baked in at the start. Not many of them had survived the training, and Yerin had been one of the more outstanding survivors of her batch. It had earned her a name, and it was this man before her who had named her.

Before that, she had just been a street urchin picked up by recruiters promising food and a warm bed. She hadn’t even known her parents or her name, if she had one. The recruiters didn’t back out on their promise, but it had also come at a price. If they wanted to stay, they would need to prove themselves. Yerin had been small and hungry. She would have done anything. All of them did.

Training was hell, but she had survived. She made herself useful, and worked her way up. When her special gifts manifested, she had been even more valued as an operative. She was moved to a different team, with others who had special abilities that made them unique. There she experienced some semblance of independence, though when their employer called, they had to respond, always.

She had been happy there, once. Her old team were her friends too. They were paid well, and had a long leash. It almost felt like freedom, but a long leash was still a leash, tied to the summons of their handlers. And they were always called in, whenever and wherever they were needed.

She could have lived like that forever, and never known the difference. At least until everything went wrong, and everyone else died. She should have too, but some whim of fate had spared her. It was then that Yuju found her, and brought her back.

Yerin had never known what true freedom felt like until she ‘died’ that day. Free from being called in to risk her life for whatever mission, free to actually choose what she wanted to do with her life. She was never going back. Let them think her dead. She had paid her dues and more besides.

“Relax, child. I am not your enemy. You remind me of someone I used to know.” Bo-geun seemed amused at the hidden undercurrent of hostility in Yerin. “I named you after her, you know. I’m glad I did, you look exactly like her now.” He paused. “At least, when I can see your real face on camera. Can you not control it?”

“I can’t actually turn it off.” Yerin growled. She flipped a knife in her hand, catching it deftly. “Why give me these again? Why now?”

“Because you were always best with them. And you will need to be at your best when you fight a dragon.” Bo-geun said seriously. His tone softened.

“I won’t tell them you’re still alive. I don’t work for them, I’m not obligated to.”

“You work with them though.” Yerin pointed out bitterly. She slid the knives back into their sheaths. She hadn’t used them openly in years to avoid being identified by her usual modus operandi. It wasn’t enough to just hide from cameras and to always wear a different face. She had to alter her own habits to avoid any possibility of detection. It was what made her so useful as a spy and assassin when needed. She was a product of their training, and now she would only use it for herself and no one else. They couldn’t reach her again. She wouldn’t let them.

“I am no saint,” Bo-geun admitted calmly. “I did what I had to, to keep the Spartans going. That dragon needs to die, it has no place in our affairs.” His voice was grim at that. “There is nothing I would not sacrifice.”

“My team is not yours to sacrifice, old man.” Yerin growled, teeth bared. Bo-geun smiled wryly at that.

“No, your team is the last card I have to play. This is my final roll of the dice, if you girls fail, I have nothing left to pit against that creature.” He looked at her.

“I was hard on you before because I wanted you to survive. If you didn’t have the skills, you would die. That is all there is to it.”

It was not an apology, but Yerin softened a little at it. It was not the best part of her memories, but it had not been the worst either. She had lived and learned the truth of those words. Only the fittest survived in this world. There was no room for the weak.

She looked at him full in the face for the first time in a decade, her combat instructor and might I say, father figure? He had gotten even older than she remembered. Looking at him brought back memories of all the others, and for a moment, Yerin couldn’t breathe. It hurt to remember them.

“Don’t die before I come back.” She said suddenly, lips pressed tightly together as she stared fiercely into his eyes.

Bo-geun smiled in understanding.

“And the same to you, child.”

“So what’s going on with you and Yuju?” SinB leaned back in her chair, sipping lazily on the energy drink she had liberated from the fridge. They were in the pantry, a common destination for them. When you remember being really hungry, you learn quickly to always find out where the food was.

Eunha paused between her choice of salad or ham. No one was going to care, so she dumped the whole lot together and brought the bowl back to the table, where SinB had her feet up on the other end.

“She’s been busy, and I can’t really help.” Eunha answered evasively, shovelling food in with the efficiency of a vacuum cleaner. She had been setting a lot of targets on fire earlier, and the energy drain did wonders for her appetite. Not that she needed much help to eat a lot, but it sure was a good excuse to do so.

“Something happened between the two of you that day, didn’t it?” SinB removed her feet from the table, shuffling over to nick some ham from Eunha’s bowl. “You haven’t gone to her since then.”

Eunha bit her fork pensively, moving the bowl closer to herself to avoid SinB’s thieving fingers. It wasn’t quite enough, and SinB managed to steal a good chunk anyway. Then again, Eunha’s heart wasn’t quite in it, and there was always more behind them.

“I think I upset her,” Eunha admitted, looking down. She had been thinking since then, but couldn’t figure out exactly what had triggered Yuju’s response. Certainly Yuju had never seemed particularly uncomfortable when Yerin was being touchy with her, but then again, the shaman had always kept everyone at a comfortable emotional distance, now that she thought about it. She was friendly with everyone, but how close did anyone get into her heart?

Eunha didn’t know. If it had been the Yuna from the past life, that girl had been an open book to her. But with Yuju...she couldn’t quite put a finger on it just yet. She had never encountered anyone else who was so easy to describe yet so difficult to understand. That was something both incarnations she had known shared, but Yuju was more...closed off. The girl treated everyone the same way, and it was hard to tell what she was really thinking.

“Upset? Yuju? She never gets mad, not even when I made her save Yerin and me from falling to our deaths at short notice.” SinB bit off a chunk of the ham. “What did you do anyway?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just kissed her, that’s all.” Eunha said with deliberate calmness, spearing another forkful of salad. SinB choked on her ham at that.

“You what? ” SinB took a gulp of her drink to stem the hacking cough. “Just like that?”

“I might have gotten a little carried away.” Eunha didn’t seem particular fazed. SinB looked impressed.

“Didn’t think you had it in you.” The gunslinger paused.

“But this upset her?” SinB chewed thoughtfully on another section of ham. “She looked...scared when we came the other day.” She raised an eyebrow at Eunha.

“Surely you can’t be that terrible at kissing, can you?”

“Shut up SinB.” Eunha snapped automatically, flicking a leaf at her best friend. SinB caught it with her teeth, breaking the stalk in half as she crunched into it.

“You probably just surprised her or something…” SinB started, sounding unconvinced even as she recalled what she and Yerin walked into the other day. The shaman had looked vulnerable, and Yerin had seemed genuinely concerned at the time, never leaving Yuju’s side unless she had to, even on the ride over to look for Sowon.

“I wish.” Eunha stabbed her fork distractedly at a tomato. “She won’t even look at me now.”

“You really like her that much though?” SinB leaned her chin on one hand, cocking her head sideways to look at Eunha. Ever since her best friend had come back from wherever it was her soul went, she had been a little different. Older and sadder somehow, and the way she looked at Yuju...SinB could see the shift easily enough. What used to be just a crush was now more than that. SinB couldn’t figure out what had happened to make it that way. Could magic even do something like that?

Eunha put down her fork. “She’s everything I ever wanted.”

SinB raised an eyebrow at that. “Bit early for that, don’t you think?”

Eunha shook her head. “You don’t understand, she’s…” Eunha closed her eyes, in a deep breath.

“ Special. She means so much to me...I can’t explain it.” Eunha dug her fingers into her palm, biting her lip as she met SinB’s eyes. SinB reached over and forcibly unclenched Eunha’s fist, making sure the older girl didn’t hurt herself.

“Eunha,” SinB began, trying to find the right words. It was difficult, but she had to say it.

“You need to get a grip. Yuju’s a really nice person, that much I admit, but you’re jumping way too fast into this.” The gunslinger shook her head, holding Eunha’s hand in hers.

“Honestly I rather you didn’t get involved, because even I can see that she’s way closer to Yerin than mere friendship warrants. We’re friends, and we never get that clingy.” SinB sighed.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Eunha. She’s not the only girl out there, you don’t have to…”

Eunha pulled her hand free of SinB’s grasp, eyes reddening.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Eunha…” SinB stared at her.

“I won’t ever let her go, SinB. I can’t. ” Eunha’s voice was trembling. “Please don’t. Never ask that of me.”

SinB withdrew her hand slowly, feeling the seed of confusion grow within her. The depth of emotion in Eunha’s eyes had shaken her more than a little. It was like an entirely different person for a moment, and it scared her.

“If you say so…” SinB said cautiously. It was like navigating a minefield. Eunha stood up abruptly, startling the gunslinger.

“I’m done.” She paused, looking a little apologetic.

“I know...you mean well, SinB. You’re my best friend…” Eunha trailed off, looking into the distance.

“But Yuju, she’s my heart. I can’t give up like this.”

“What if she breaks it?” SinB asked bluntly. Eunha looked back at her sadly.

“Then it’s hers to break. I can’t take it back.”

SinB stood up as well, going almost nose to nose with Eunha. The gunslinger looked irritated.

“You’re a ing , you know that?”

She pulled Eunha into a rough hug. Eunha froze for a second, then leaned her forehead against SinB’s shoulder. The gunslinger muttered a few unflattering imprecatives, mostly targeting Eunha’s intelligence or lack thereof. Despite herself, Eunha laughed, a sound that came out almost like a choking sob.

“Thank you, SinB.”

“You’re an idiot.” SinB replied instantly. “But you’re my idiot best friend.” She pulled away, flicking Eunha on the forehead. “Don’t keep stuff like that to yourself, okay? You don’t have to bear it alone.” SinB cracked her knuckles ominously.

“I’m here to knock sense into you when you need it, even though it’s obviously not getting through in this case.”

Eunha rolled her eyes, wiping away the tears that had managed to sneak their way out.

“As if you have any brains left in front of Sowon, my dear bestie.”

“Oi!”

“We all know what we have to do.”

Sowon looked at the faces of her team, drawing strength from their presence. They were as ready as they could be, prepped and fully geared for the biggest fight of their lives.

Yerin was clad in black and grey, suited to the shadows. Her face and hair had settled into something dull and unremarkable, and her presence seemed diminished even as she stood right there, like a serpent hidden, coiled to strike unseen. Her knives were concealed, with only the bulge of one pistol on her right hip, and she leaned subtly against one wall as she took in the briefing.

Next to her, Yuju was all in black, hair pulled into a high ponytail as she focused on Sowon’s speech. The athame had replaced her usual obsidian knife on her left hip, while her satchel was secured to her right. Her fingers worked nervously against her thigh, tracing runes almost unconsciously until Yerin hooked one arm around hers, nudging her encouragingly.

Umji sat at the other side of the table opposite Sowon, making last minute adjustments to the gear she was bringing along. She had been surprised that she didn’t even have to argue the point with Sowon, but after the leader had laid out the security plans she had obtained from Bo-geun, the hacker knew exactly why she couldn’t be left behind. Too many closed security checkpoints that only she could bypass on the spot. If Umji was nervous, she wasn’t showing it. If anything, she was happy that she could finally join them properly in the field.

Eunha stood opposite Yuju, looking almost innocent in her graphic tee and short skirt, just like any other party girl at a club. That is, if one ignored the way she was allowing electricity to crackle between her fingers, the sparks arcing like miniature relays. Wisps of smoke escaped the fingertips, phantom flame flickering as she flexed, eyes cold. There would be no mercy for anyone who underestimated the smallest member of their team.

SinB had both arms up and was resting her head against her cradled hands as she leaned against the wall. Black leather was her choice of the day, from the studded jacket to her boots. She wore her guns openly, though her new knife was concealed in her boot. Despite her seeming irreverence, her eyes were intent as they fixed on Sowon.

Sowon herself was in military greys, her armored bodysuit hidden beneath them. She had abandoned her usual longcoat, wearing her weapons openly. There was no need to conceal them for this operation; they were going in hot, and there would only be death to anyone in their way.

The weight of the vibro-blade was heavy on her back, but Sowon stood unbent, spine straight and shoulders firm. It was just them here, but it would be enough.

“I won’t repeat myself. You are the best team I could have. We can do this.”

Sowon checked her watch. It was almost time. Her eyes swept over the familiar faces, remembering as if it were yesterday the same faces in military uniforms, the night before they went to Gyeongju the last time. One fist clenched behind her back at the memory. She would not lose this team this time. Now, at least, they knew what they were facing. They were prepared.

Failure was not an option.

“Today, we kill a dragon!”