562.
After the second charge passed through, a moment of stillness fell over the battlefield.
But it was not silence—
it was the sound of the last breaths of the dying finally stopping.
When the spear points were drawn back, what remained were bodies that had moved and then gone still,
and men crawling over fallen comrades, screaming to be spared.
Behind them, however, there was still a final group not yet completely broken—
one hundred fifty to two hundred routed Wa倭(왜). pressing their backs against the low hill.
"Back! To the mountain!"
A commander screamed from the slope.
The survivors clawed their way upward, clinging to the hillside.
The incline of the hill and the hollow below naturally narrowed into a throat.
The routed men packed together into a single mass.
If we just get through that narrow neck, we live.
That instinct drove them toward the hill.
But it became a trap at once.
Trees and rocks blocked both sides.
A steep slope rose behind them.
Cavalry stood before them.
There was nowhere to move—no space at all.
The routed soldiers shoved and trampled one another at the base of the hill.
"Move! This way!"
"It's blocked! Don't go back!"
"Climb! I said climb!"
The slope was so steep that some slipped and crashed into those behind them.
Others piled on top, tumbling together into chaos.
People crushed people—
like a collapsed palisade.
It was a sight too cruel to watch.
Park Seong-jin gave a short command.
"Line—advance half a step."
Hooves scraped the ground as the cavalry edged forward.
That half-step was ten paces of terror to the Wa.
A scream burst from the center of the mass.
"Don't come! Don't come—please…!"
But the cavalry did not break their silence.
The spear points remained aligned, calm as a slow river.
Halfway up the hill, one remaining Wa commander raised his sword high, his face soaked in blood.
"It's not over!
If we retreat here, we'll never return to our homeland!
Fight—!"
With his last strength, he struck the routed men below with the flat of his blade.
Thuk—
skin split.
No one moved.
The commander screamed hoarsely.
"Step forward!
Forward, you dogs!!"
Then a Wa behind him seized his collar and hurled him down the slope.
"Shut up!
We're dying here!!"
The commander's body rolled down, struck rocks, and stopped.
There was no one left to follow him.
The routed men could not even reach out to help one another.
There was no space—
not even space to breathe.
Below them stood the Goryeo cavalry with leveled spears.
Above them, a slope they could not climb.
In that seam of despair, someone spoke in a small voice.
"…We've lost."
That word was the spark.
Nearby men began to shake and let their swords fall.
Clack—
clang—
Blades struck stone again and again.
One man dropped to his knees.
Another collapsed face-first.
In an instant, all resistance drained away.
The last support holding the hill vanished.
Park Seong-jin slowly turned his spear point upward, toward the sky.
"Maintain formation."
The words marked the end of slaughter.
The routed soldiers bowed their heads without a word and sank where they stood.
Their formation had completely collapsed.
Their frenzied charges, their last pride behind the hill—
all of it had vanished before the cavalry's second wave.
It had never been a fair fight.
This side was cavalry.
That side was infantry.
The range of arrows was different.
It was a battle that could not be won.
---*
As the formation crumbled and the routed soldiers collapsed below the hill,
one man alone still stood on a rock halfway up the slope.
Another Wa commander.
His face was caked in blood.
His armor torn.
One leg dragged uselessly.
Yet his eyes were still alive.
He had not thrown away his sword.
He was not raising it to strike, nor setting it in guard.
He simply held it, forcing the trembling to stop.
Park Seong-jin looked up at him.
"You're the only one left."
The commander answered, gasping.
"…I can… still fight."
There was no misery in his voice.
No fear.
Only the belief that a defeated commander must die as a soldier.
Park dismounted slowly.
"If you throw down your sword, I'll let you go.
If you want to finish it here, I'll grant that too."
A faint smile spread at the corner of the man's mouth.
"…To return alive would be shame."
With shaking hands, he bit through the strap of his scabbard.
Then he raised the sword high with both hands.
The posture looked like a ritual—
as if offering his own body as a sacrifice.
Park read his resolve.
"Then I accept."
The man screamed.
"Waaaaa—!!"
With that brief cry, he leapt from the slope.
He fell as if dropping from the sky, struck the ground once,
and then hurled himself forward in a full-body charge.
As his blade came down toward Park's head,
Park's hwando flashed upward like lightning, knocking the strike aside.
A single instant of collision.
Then—
the commander's head lifted cleanly from his shoulders.
Blood scattered like birds taking flight, petals blooming in the air.
The body staggered two or three steps farther before collapsing.
The ground received the final impact with a dull sound.
Thuk.
That single sound covered the battlefield.
The remaining Wa below the hill closed their eyes and bowed their heads deeply where they stood.
Park looked at the body for a moment, then slowly sheathed his blade.
"Even an enemy had the right to fight."
It was neither praise nor pity.
It was simply recognition of a warrior's end.
Soldiers moved quietly to collect the commander's sword and helmet.
Only the sound of wind remained.
---*
With the Wa commander fallen, the sound of blades finally ceased.
But the battle merely paused, preparing for the next.
"Down!
Hands behind your heads!"
Song I-jeong and the cavalry shouted.
The surviving Wa no longer had the strength to resist.
They threw down their weapons, knelt, and lay face-down one by one.
Arms were bound with rope.
Loops were set behind their necks.
They were tied ten at a time in lines.
Their breathing was thin and trembling, scarcely different from the dead.
Park watched them briefly and said,
"They don't have the strength to run.
Bind them thoroughly.
There's no need to kill them.
There are still many battles ahead."
The words were cold.
The judgment was firm.
Prisoners were resources—
a calculation known only to commanders seasoned by long war.
"Set camp right beside the battlefield.
Triage the wounded.
Water the horses.
Check equipment immediately."
At his words, cavalry and infantry moved at once.
The wounded were carried to an open area on the left.
Horses that had fought hard were given water and feed.
Fallen arrows were gathered.
Broken spearheads recovered.
Then the dust-covered official Im Mok-im came running, breathless.
"General!
We'll begin cleanup immediately!
Prisoner registers, trophies, casualty lists—we'll handle them!"
Park nodded.
"Hurry.
We're not done today.
We move again."
As Im Mok-im organized the savage battlefield, he glanced at Park and muttered,
"…That man truly lives in war."
And it was true—
within two days, he had split open two Wa battlefields in succession.
Park spread out the map and traced the terrain.
"Scatter the scouts wide.
Ten ri. Twenty. Thirty—
as far as possible.
If they came in this deep, there will be other groups."
"Understood!"
About thirty cavalry split into three directions, spreading across ridges, valleys, and river lines.
Listening to the hooves fade away, Park said,
"They'll push deeper inland.
When the coast yields less, they devour the interior."
At one side of the battlefield, Im Mok-im and the armor handlers began stripping equipment from Wa corpses and lining it up.
Seeing this, Park paused his breath.
The Wa equipment was not that of mere bandits.
Massive face-covering masks.
Solid iron armor covering shoulders, elbows, and shins.
Composite armor mixing lamellar and plate.
Commanders escorted by mounted guards.
Most soldiers equipped with spears, long swords, and bows—
a regular order of battle.
They carried few shields,
but the entire force wore armor.
Their advances and withdrawals were not simple.
Song I-jeong exhaled.
"General… these aren't bandits."
Park nodded.
"No.
They're regular troops."
He lifted one piece of armor, weighing it in his hands.
"They came to fight."
Wind passed, carrying the mixed scent of blood and iron to his nose.
Park spoke very softly.
"This feels like the beginning of a larger war."