Actually, Dad Was a Hero

Chapter 6: Guardian
“Kiek?”

A bewildered cry escaped the Orc Shaman’s lips.

In the next moment, Jin Beom-Min’s longsword, imbued with bluish magic, pierced those lips.

“Kek!”

The Orc Shaman died instantly, but Jin Beom-Min remained vigilant, slashing his sword downward. The Orc Shaman’s body was split in two, splattering thick, black blood everywhere.

When facing magic-wielding monsters, one should never let their guard down even after inflicting a fatal wound. This was a lesson constantly emphasized by the instructors at the Hero Academy.

There were countless cases where a monster, thought to be finished, would suddenly recover using healing magic or items and launch a counterattack the moment one’s attention wavered.

It was a lesson learned over 30 years ago, but everything Jin Beom-Min learned back then was still deeply ingrained within him.

“Hiss!”

“Shick! Shick!”

With the Orc Shaman bisected, the Lizardmen charged with metallic shrieks. However, having lost their command structure, they were nothing more than defeated soldiers in armor and wielding swords.

Jin Beom-Min calmly cut down the Lizardmen closest to the hostages, one by one.

******

“Tango One down!”

‘Ogre’ reported, gazing at the burning corpse of the Troll, which emitted thick smoke and a foul odor.

The inside of his combat uniform was drenched in sweat, not only from the heat of the burning smoke grenades but also from the overwhelming presence of the massive Troll he had just witnessed up close.

“‘Wraith’, aim for the legs and knees! ‘Imp’, get ready!”

‘Sandman’ shouted from about 40 meters away from the burning Troll carcass.

“Kwwaaaar!”

The Troll swung its club, aiming for ‘Sandman’s head, but he quickly retreated a few steps, firing his gun into the Troll’s face.

“Kugh!”

As the Troll clutched its face, ‘Wraith’ darted out from the side, blasting its knees with a shotgun.

“Kueok!”

The Troll’s knees buckled, and its massive body crashed to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, ‘Imp’, Ghost Squad’s heavy weapons specialist, charged from behind the Troll.

“Take this!”

‘Imp’ plunged his broadsword, bundled with smoke grenades, deep into the Troll’s right shoulder. It was the same tactic ‘Ogre’ had used to eliminate the other Troll.

Just as ‘Imp’ pulled the pin from the grenade and tried to retreat, the wounded Troll instinctively swung its arm.

Thwack!

“Ugh!”

‘Imp’, weighing at least 90kg with his weapons and equipment, was flung into the air and sent flying backward.

“‘Imp’ is down!”

The Troll, covered in blood, used its club as a crutch to push itself up.

It seemed intent on approaching the unconscious ‘Imp’.

“Fire! Focus fire!”

‘Sandman’ ordered, seeing the pin dangling from the smoke grenade attached to the Troll’s shoulder. He quickly rushed towards ‘Imp’.

Bang!

The sharp crack of a sniper rifle echoed, and the Troll’s head jerked back.

However, the Troll, seemingly unfazed, shook its bloodied head and continued towards ‘Imp’.

‘Wraith’ frantically reloaded his shotgun.

“Damn it! Captain, get out of there!”

‘Reaper’s voice blared from the communicator.

The Troll’s shadow loomed over ‘Sandman’, who was carrying ‘Imp’ on his back.

“Krrrrrr!”

The Troll raised its club, as thick as a man’s waist, into the air.

One blow would turn ‘Imp’, and likely ‘Sandman’ as well, into a pulp, just like the corpses scattered across the field.

“Spitting Snake!”

Jin Beom-Min’s voice rang out as a large fireball flew in, striking the Troll’s back.

It was almost identical to the magic the Orc Shaman had used earlier.

“Kuaaaaaaaaagh!”

The Troll writhed and screamed as its body caught fire.

Amidst the blazing flames and acrid smoke, ‘Sandman’ saw Jin Beom-Min, clad in grey armor, approaching with his right hand outstretched.

“Huff, huff. Good timing.”

“Are you alright?”

“He’s alive.”

Booom!

The smoke grenade attached to the Troll’s shoulder exploded, emitting a blinding flash and intense heat.

Engulfed in flames and choking smoke, the Troll curled up and silently turned to ash.

Inhaling the pungent smell of gunpowder and blood, Jin Beom-Min and the Ghost Squad members silently acknowledged each other’s performance.

******

“Sob……! Ugh……!”

Mournful cries echoed from all directions.

The freed hostages, released from their bonds, clung to the bodies of their families and relatives, wailing in grief.

Whether Korean or Vietnamese, the sounds of lamenting the loss of loved ones were not so different.

A cruel sound that pierced the heart, a sound one wanted to turn away from.

“……Why didn’t they leave any of the children alive?”

‘Sandman’ asked Jin Beom-Min, who was watching the scene with a heavy heart.

“I don’t know……Maybe it was just a coincidence……”

“It can’t be a coincidence. There isn’t a single minor among the survivors. They’re mostly adults or elderly.”

“……Are you saying they specifically killed the children?”

“I think……they were only trying to capture the adults and take them away.”

“……Capture and take them away……Where to……?”

Jin Beom-Min looked around. They were in a remote area surrounded by rice paddies, hills, and mountains.

It was a mystery how the monsters had suddenly appeared in such a place, and where they intended to take the hostages.

[They definitely have a purpose. The attacks are becoming more sophisticated each time.]

Lee Sang-Jun’s voice came through the communicator.

Jin Beom-Min nodded and asked Lee Sang-Jun,

“When will you arrive? We need to take care of the bodies here……”

[We’re almost there. Ah, I see you.]

Whirring noises filled the air.

Several military helicopters emerged from behind the hill, flying towards them at a rapid pace.

The helicopters carefully avoided the scattered bodies and landed in the middle of the rice paddy. Heavily armed Vietnamese soldiers and medical personnel poured out.

Among them, a man in a distinctive black suit stood out – Lee Sang-Jun.

“Good work, everyone!”

Lee Sang-Jun shouted over the roar of the propellers as he approached.

‘Sandman’ and the Ghost Squad members gathered around Jin Beom-Min and Lee Sang-Jun.

‘Imp’, who had been brutally struck by the Troll, was being supported by ‘Ogre’, showing signs of a mild concussion, but his life didn’t seem to be in danger.

“Fortunately, we rescued all the hostages. This will save face for both our side and Vietnam. You all did a great job.”

“People have died here, and that’s all you have to say?”

Jin Beom-Min retorted with displeasure, causing Lee Sang-Jun to shake his head with a troubled expression.

“It’s a tragedy, but we prevented a greater loss of life, didn’t we?”

“Still……”

“If these incidents continue, the success we achieved today will be a great help. We gained practical experience and secured diplomatic justification and benefits.”

Sending troops, or a group with comparable military power, to another sovereign nation was an extremely difficult task.

Few countries wanted their national defense to be handled by foreign forces.

Of course, this was an exceptional situation with the appearance of monsters immune to conventional weapons.

However, even so, Lee Sang-Jun had to pull out all the stops to allow Jin Beom-Min and the Ghost Squad to intervene in this operation. This included unofficial methods he couldn’t disclose to others.

“……If only we had arrived a little sooner……”

Lee Sang-Jun patted Jin Beom-Min’s shoulder, who was still expressing regret.

Despite the considerable risks involved, Jin Beom-Min and the Ghost Squad had done their best and achieved the best possible outcome.

The success of this operation would deepen the friendly relations between South Korea and Vietnam and provide justification for more active intervention if similar incidents occurred in other countries.

However, Lee Sang-Jun wasn’t content with stopping there.

The series of monster appearances would greatly contribute not only to his career advancement but also to South Korea’s national interests.

“You must be tired. Let’s return to base and rest. I’ll take care of the aftermath here.”

Jin Beom-Min and the Ghost Squad members nodded and headed towards the waiting helicopters.

Just then, an elderly couple, their faces covered in soot and wrinkles, approached Jin Beom-Min and the Ghost Squad members.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t move!”

“Freeze!”

The Ghost Squad members instinctively raised their weapons and issued warnings.

However, Jin Beom-Min raised his hand to stop them, saying,

“No, it’s alright. Lower your weapons. It’s okay.”

The elderly couple flinched, startled by the Ghost Squad’s reaction, but as the guns were lowered, they approached Jin Beom-Min again, muttering something in Vietnamese.

“What are they saying?”

‘Ogre’ asked, and ‘Reaper’ responded with a sarcastic tone.

“Obviously, they’re expressing their gratitude. To them, Mr. Jin Beom-Min is a savior.”

“Damn it, we risked our lives too.”

‘Ogre’ grumbled, but he didn’t seem genuinely upset.

The elderly couple reached Jin Beom-Min, touching his arms, hands, and clothes, repeatedly expressing their thanks.

Seeing this, other survivors began to gather around them.

None of the Ghost Squad members, including Jin Beom-Min, understood Vietnamese, but language didn’t matter in this situation. Body language could convey more than spoken words.

Soon, dozens of survivors surrounded them.

Most expressed their gratitude to Jin Beom-Min, but some also offered tearful smiles and awkward gestures to the Ghost Squad members.

The Ghost Squad members seemed uncomfortable with unidentified people crowding around them, but they tried their best to reciprocate with friendly gestures.

After all, they couldn’t spit on people thanking them.

Unlike the Ghost Squad members who reluctantly nodded and raised their hands, Jin Beom-Min was lost in thought, holding the elderly couple’s hands tightly.

A sense of fulfillment, different from the adrenaline rush of combat, spread through his body.

He was a guardian.

A hero raised to protect the empire and its citizens… no, all humans across the continent.

A survivor who endured countless hardships and training to avenge the countless lives lost to monsters.

Therefore, the gratitude expressed by the people he saved struck a chord deep within his soul.

He was a sword forged and sharpened for this purpose, yet left unused and discarded in its sheath.

And now, after decades, he was finally being used for his intended purpose.

As a sword to protect humanity.

‘……This is……where I belong……’

It felt like everything had fallen into place.

The blade, worn and roughened over the years, was sharpened once more and sheathed in its rightful place.

This was where he belonged.

He wasn’t saying that being a tile installer was a menial job.

Thanks to that job, he was able to survive in this unfamiliar world and raise his two children.

However, it wasn’t his true calling.

Being a tile installer wasn’t his life’s purpose.

At the age of forty-five, he had finally rediscovered his true purpose in life.