God of Blackfield

The truck sped through the barren mountains. The four fuel barrels loaded under the cargo bed clearly showed the strain of the long journey.

Vroom!

The driver skillfully navigated through the dunes, which had changed shape overnight, and the steep slopes that could send anyone tumbling. Only those with ample experience could manage the route they were taking.

The man sitting in the middle glanced at Kang Chan. Perhaps he was curious about what the “God of Blackfield”looked like or maybe simply fascinated to see an Asian out here.

Vroom! Vroom!

Through the side mirror, he could see the rear wheels kicking up sand like water on a puddled road.

They drove for twenty minutes before stopping.

"Park somewhere safe!"

"Oui!" the soldier responded immediately. He parked the truck at the base of a dune.

"Oui!" replied his men.

He then got out of the passenger seat and moved to the back.

Kang Chan’s team consisted of twelve men, himself included. Considering they were assigned to the top point of the triangular formation, they all had every reason to feel proud—except for that bastard Smithen.

"Take five!" Kang Chan ordered, and the soldiers quickly disembarked, taking positions between the dune and the truck.

Even though he had been sitting in the passenger seat, he could already feel the sand grinding in his mouth. He gurgled it off with water, then put a cigarette between his lips.

Ptew!

Only rookies would spit out the sand first. Those who were somewhat seasoned exhaled the sand and smoked at the same time.

Hooooo.

Meanwhile, those who had adopted the mindset that the sand was cleaning the gaps between their teeth had likely spent a good deal of time as a mercenary in Africa.

Their five-minute break passed quickly. After checking that all the soldiers had boarded the cargo bed, Kang Chan got back into the passenger seat. With two soldiers moving together as if preparing for the return journey, the man sitting in the middle was pressed against the driver’s side, looking extremely uncomfortable.

Kang Chan didn’t care about that now. After all, they’d only be driving for twenty more minutes before going on foot for an hour to get to their destination. He figured the guy would be more comfortable on the way back, so there was no need to worry about it.

***

Dayeru quickly became the troublemaker of the training camp. Being a recruit designated by the DGSE didn’t exempt him from anything. In fact, if his performance was lacking or if he got injured, he could be dropped just like anyone else.

Thud! Thud! Pow!

The hierarchy battles, a staple of the Foreign Legion, raged on for a full week. At the end of it, Dayeru unsurprisingly came out on top. As the highest-ranking recruit, he had only one demand: not to force the use of French after the training was complete. ʀÄ

Hence, the soldiers in his barracks and all the other recruits quickly picked up Arabic. Even the instructors began to understand and speak basic Arabic.

Dayeru was extremely crude, but he wasn’t an idiot. On the contrary, he even had a cunning streak. Having mastered French and military terms related to weapons, it became difficult to catch him off guard.

Unable to endure any longer, an instructor finally sat Dayeru down with the Algerian recruit for a conversation.

"What the hell are you doing? You should be cooperating! You do realize there’s a French language exam, right? This kind of attitude won’t do.”

"Shorten the duration," Dayeru said.

"What?"

"Cut the six-month program short. I heard there’s a special forces camp opening in four months. If you promise to send me there, I’ll agree to use French in the barracks."

It was probably the most audacious thing that the instructor had heard since the God of Blackfield trained at the camp years ago.

The instructor looked at Dayeru with a face that said,“I’ve lived long enough to see it all.”

"Tell me why you refuse to learn French. Even though the DGSE recommended you, if you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to dismiss you for refusing to train."

The instructor’s warning didn’t faze Dayeru, though.

"I heard new recruits die within forty-eight hours of deployment. Even if they survive, they rarely last more than seventy-two hours."

"That’s… Go on."

The instructor had initially thought it was nonsense, but he remembered the God of Blackfield.

Dayeru continued, "If I’m heading off to die anyway, then I don’t want to waste my time learning anything apart from weapons and combat skills. Picking up a few more words here won’t make much difference in staying alive. Let’s just make things easier for everyone."

That was clearly bullshit.

However, coming from a guy destined to join the God of Blackfield’s team in the most dangerous missions, it oddly seemed to make sense—even more so with the big-headed Algerian staring him down.

"Hmm."

The God of Blackfield had personally brought him here, and the DGSE had ordered that after his training, Dayeru be sent straight to the special forces camp.

"Dayeru.”

"Oui."

Clever bastard! Look at him, reading the room and suddenly answering so politely.

The instructor glared sharply at him. "I’ll send you to the special forces camp that starts in two months. But if you get injured or fail any part of the training, you’ll be expelled, no exceptions. From now on, don’t force anyone to speak Algerian in the barracks."

"Oui."

If only I could toss this troublemaker into the special forces camp now.

The instructor was ready to use the DGSE’s orders as an excuse to expedite Dayeru’s transfer.

"Dismissed."

As Dayeru walked back to his barracks, he chuckled softly to himself.

Using the experience that he had gained in Excellemont paid off. The organization struggled the most when they couldn’t speak French. Knowing that, he was able to shave off two months.

He would now get closer to that fierce-looking Asian guy sooner. The special forces camp would be tougher, but it didn’t matter. He could just push himself harder there.

If he could cut down the time, he wouldn’t speak a word of French at all. After all, where else in the world could there be someone who could break him like the Asian?

"Just wait. Stay alive until I get there!" Dayeru shouted.

He never imagined that the day would come when he wanted to meet someone in this world, much less stand beside another.

"Phehehe."

Dayeru’s eyes gleamed so brightly as he laughed that the Algerian soldier, who had been interpreting, didn’t dare say a word.

***

Kang Chan and his men trudged along the path, the ground beneath their feet sinking deep. The map and compass were all they had to guide them. Mountains, dunes, and nothing but endless, godforsaken sand stretched out before them.

Creak. Creak.

The sun beat down mercilessly on them as they walked without rest, seemingly challenging them to see how far they could go.

At times like this, I can’t help but think of red bean shaved ice. Now that I’ve saved up quite a bit in my bank account, I could easily buy some. Of course, I’d have to eat pork cutlets first.

Squelch, squelch.

Shluff, shluff.

The noises they made echoed as they climbed up and descended the dune.

I’m exhausted, but we can’t just take a break in places like this.

There was no way to avoid the unbelievable eyesight of those who used this area as their base. The fact that they could already see the target location only made their situation even more pressing.

The mountain was made of solid earth, firm enough to dig a trench and live in. If the enemy decided to take aim from up there, there’d be no way to avoid it.

After a long walk, they had closed the distance to their target location to a mere kilometer.

“Halt!” Kang Chan ordered, and the soldiers stopped. “Reznov! Get ready!”

“Oui!” Reznov answered.

The effective range of the CheyTac was about two kilometers. Hence, Kang Chan determined this area would be the best position for Reznov to provide cover fire against enemies armed with AK rifles.

Reznov positioned the CheyTac atop a dune and lay down. Two soldiers then covered him with sand.

One soldier stayed behind to assist him.

“Move out!” Kang Chan commanded, and the remaining soldiers resumed their march.

Squelch. Squelch.

When exhausted and on edge, accidents were bound to happen—especially during a mission involving a tribal massacre.

Whoosh!

The wind blowing across the desert put them on high alert.

Clatter.

Even hearing a rock tumbling ahead made them tense up. Fortunately, they reached the mountain without incident.

Kang Chan sent four men ahead. When they reported that it was all clear, they entered the mountain.

The holes and small caves in the middle of it terrified them the most. If a muzzle poked out from one of those, it was almost certain that someone would get hit.

After reaching their designated position, Kang Chan scanned the surroundings and used his compass to check the direction from which the enemies, pushed by allied forces below, were likely to appear.

From here, they would have to move down and capture the first area below.

Kang Chan didn’t know what their enemies, who were driven by anger, would look like. They could use hostages or strap themselves with bombs. However, one thing was clear: they would have to face the bastards to find out.

For now, though, they had to rest before stepping into hell.

Chk.

“Reznov! Move out.”

Chk.

“Oui,” Reznov responded through the radio.

Kang Chan exhaled quietly. “Hoo!”

A sense of unease, like storm clouds gathering in the sky, slowly crept up on him.

It was already ten in the morning. Kang Chan’s unit was supposed to move an hour before noon, which meant they should have already entered the area below by now.

Yet, for some reason, Sharlan had only just given the order to move. Considering it would take a full hour to drive from here to the area of operation below, the command was absurdly late.

Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!

The trucks sped in a line toward the operational area.

Most of the soldiers assumed that the squad under the command of the God of Blackfield had been given a special mission. After all, that was the only reason they would ever risk putting their best unit in such danger.

Kang Chan slowly stood up. His heart felt heavy as if his veins were blocked, and his eyes glistened with tension.

Being in a disadvantageous position and feeling uneasy were two different things. He knew this was a tough mission, but that didn’t make it any easier to shake off his uneasiness.

The soldiers quickly exchanged glances after seeing the look in Kang Chan’s eyes. Reznov and Smithen had a good sense of what that look meant.

“We’re moving out. Manrici! You and another soldier take point!” Kang Chan ordered.

“Oui!”

Manrici, an Italian, quickly moved ahead.

“Reznov! Watch our rear!”

“Oui!”

“Move out!”

Creak. Creak.

As commanded, the soldiers began to move forward.

Without needing to be told, they maintained a distance of fifty meters from the vanguard and two meters between each other.

Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.

Every step they took sent small rocks tumbling, marking the presence of the group as they made their way through the barren mountains. After about twenty minutes of walking, the lead soldier raised his arm and signaled three times before pointing ahead. It seemed they had finally reached the first target area.

Creak. Creak.

Kang Chan lowered his stance and approached the soldier, who was lying flat. There were bodies scattered below.

Even though they had grown accustomed to war, the brutality of a tribal massacre was enough to ignite rage in anyone who witnessed it. The fact that women and children were among the victims only made it worse.

The children of Niger, with their large eyes and long eyelashes, were being brutally murdered under the pretense of tribal cleansing. Their eyes were gouged out, their noses and ears cut off, and then they were left to die. Sometimes the killers even took turns doing things that only someone like Smithen would do before committing such atrocities.

Kang Chan exhaled quietly, letting go of his emotions. Letting his emotions get the best of him would only increase the chances of throwing himself into the enemy’s line of fire,

“Hoo.”

It was time to show these murderers why he was known as the God of Blackfield in all of Africa.

Kang Chan slowly committed the layout of the terrain below to memory, including the wide-open caves and those with wooden doors. Somewhere down there, there were likely still some tribespeople who hadn’t been killed yet.

Kang Chan didn’t understand why the innocent tribespeople in this area had to be subjected to senseless slaughter. Nevertheless, he had to prioritize dealing with those responsible for it.

Kang Chan pointed Reznov to a position and then began to move down the mountain.