prologue: battle of sperum
“retreat!”
the ruthless blade in his skilled hands took its exit at the cue of that horrid word. they had lost. they had lost again.
defeat strikes hoseok’s supporters like individual hits delivered to each breathing chest, a harsher pressure than any violent weapon could ever inflict. there’s a heavy grief in it all, as there always is— heavier than the drop of a lifeless body right in the centre of it. and that body could end up being anyone out here, where anyone is put up to a spontaneous test of survival. whether it’s skilled, trained personnel, or someone who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. out here, death is from either side. no matter the odds, they’ll still be left vulnerable in the unfamiliar surroundings of a battlefield. because no amount of training could ever prepare anyone for the intense emotions to be crippled out there. they’re like no other, a fact that keeps the world’s sanity in tact.
defeat is one of the ones that sticks the most; conveniently, it’s also the one that hurts the most. it’s the one that haunts long after returning home with newly carved scars.
perhaps the only solace taken over the loss of sperum is the merciless affliction of sword against their sacred jimin’s skin in the pelting storm of rain. at the very bare and pathetic minimum, they executed a hit on their captain. the torrents of rain concealed identities more effectively than the finest of masks; even through the stinging burn of offscourings befallen in jimin’s wound, there’s a figure in the rain. or a mere piercing gaze. jimin catches a returned glimpse of those eyes that outpourings couldn’t cover before being rushed to receive medical attention. it was a close call.
the battle is in anyone’s hands up until the very end, is the thing, likening it to a game of sorts. and maybe that’s exactly what it is. a game where the winners will achieve land space, a game where the losers will gain more ghosts to return with. it can go either way. there’s another cacophonous roar melding into the rain and debris calling to the soldiers of hoseok’s beloved land, sperum, “retreat!” it’s repeated several more times, “retreat! retreat!”
in comparison to a game, the frustration of loss is multiplied by a thousand and more. it’s being so close to brushing your finger against the most expensive wine on the highest shelf of a cellar, inching closer and closer, taking a good whiff of the reward that’s just in reach— but being knocked off of the stool of confidence once stand upon, landing on the cold hard ground of defeat as someone else reaches triumph first.
they take their defeat like an all too cliché arrow to the heart– that’s how repetitive loss had become– discouragement ringing throughout the atmosphere coating the retreating trek. “we can’t keep doing this.” hoseok says, voice quivering. it’s the first time since the start of the battle that hoseok has said anything, especially something so opinionated. the last thing to leave his mouth was a raging war cry. his hands are shaking now, face pale, “we need to try the...other plan.”
it sits with them all for a while, stirring in the air uncomfortably. even saying the sentence is a risk in itself, and hoseok knows that. he knows it. and yet, with this final blow after so many long days and nights of preparation, it slips out easily.
“i agree.” he doesn’t hesitate.
another member of their team speaks up; hoseok’s right-hand man yoongi is prompted by the implications of those words directly, “are you crazy? if they find out, you‘ll lose your fucking head.”
the rivaling electricity sparked layers of yoongi’s contempt as the other responded, “there isn’t time to think about risks anymore. we just keep standing around and talking– might as well hand everything over now.”
“he’s right,” hoseok rarely disputed yoongi’s opinions, but the desperation of defeat had consumed him now, “we don’t have a choice.”
as rain soaked their clothes to the seams and washed away the lives shed, his resolve was established, “i will do whatever it takes to restore our honor.” he wipes a smear of blood trickling down his brow, “even if it means killing park jimin myself.”
