Mercenary Black Mamba

As soon as the Ratel team finished cleaning up the battlefield, they left the scene as though their tails were about to fall off. Dragging their feet after finishing a battle would be like shoving their heads into an alligator's mouth.

"Emil, where are we?"

Ombuti was the one who replied. "We've passed Shala. We'll be arriving in Nadele soon."

"We've reached the Kanem province's border, then. It's as if we've jumped 110 miles."

Black Mamba smiled freely as he checked his watch. Their battle had started around six in the evening and ended at midnight. By then, it was ten in the morning. The Captain and Ombuti were both surprised at Black Mamba's words, which indicated that he had memorized the entire map.

Ombuti crossed the dry ravine and held camp in the rough rocky regions. As an experienced guide, he found adequate campsites as quietly as a ghost. The Sahel region was full of wastelands, sparse wood, and small swamplands. There were some hills, valleys, and ravines, making the place advantageous to hide from the FROLINAT.

The camp was on a large rocky mountain that towered over the valley like a building. It was geographically similar to the battle region at Uldi Hamarl. As long as they didn't create smoke, the possibility of being found seemed low.

"Everyone aside from the watch group, go to sleep."

The team members who received the Captain's orders placed themselves in a rock's shadow and burrowed into their sleeping bags. Everyone had shadows hanging under their eyes.

Black Mamba stretched his body before searching for Emil. He felt like he was about to starve, as a strong wave of hunger had just hit him.

"Emil, I'm hungry."

Emil smiled as he threw three C-rations at him. Everyone in Deuxieme Rep knew about Black Mamba's large appetite.

"You're Black Mamba. You shouldn't be acting up just because you've been starved for one day. I've heard that some snakes go months without eating."

"I'm not a reptile, I'm a mammal."

"You're not a species of this Earth. You're an alien who escaped from its planet, like if Darth Vader jumped out of Star Wars."

"Shut up. I noticed that we've been moving to the northeast while I was sleeping."

"There's no reason to be attacked by the enemy while taking our time, after all."

"But Emil, why does everyone look so depressed?"

Emil hesitated before biting his lip.

"Sergeant Mark was killed."

"What? No way!"

Black Mamba was surprised. No one had said anything about their dead after the battle was over. His ears rang. It was the first casualty from their first battle. Mark, alongside Mike, was the best sniper in Deuxieme Rep. They had a dent in their forces without gaining even a glimpse of the raccoon's tail. He froze completely.

Humans were weak beings who died after being hit by a bullet smaller than a nail. There was no difference even when it was a child who was shooting the bullet.

"How?"

"Neither we nor the captain figured it out until later. Sergeant Mark, who had an injury on his abdomen's protective cover, was hunched over. Bell Man tried, but it was too late. He said the cause of death was shock from losing too much blood."

"Are you saying that he could have lived if it had been found sooner?"

"Maybe!"

"What was his partner, Sergeant Mike, doing?"

Rage flashed over Emil's face.

"My words exactly! He's the man who was drunk on blood even during survival training, so he probably went crazy."

"What f*cking b*stard!"

A strong glint of blue, like the eyes of a predator, gleamed in Black Mamba's eyes.

Partners existed to protect each other's backs. Each filled in the other's blindside and shared attacking and defending in turns. If Black Mamba began shooting, Emil had to throw his entire attention into his partner's safety, to the point that he neglected his own. This also meant that Mike didn't even realize his partner's poor situation. He was a useless b*stard.

"Ahh!" Emil yelled lowly as he was exposed to the strong blood lust.

"Why are you surprised?"

He spoke a plain tone.

"Was I hallucinating?"

Emil tilted his head. He had suddenly imagined Black Mamba as some unfathomable predator, but when he looked once more, he was still his unchanging, trustworthy partner.

"They must have had a sniper."

Sergeant Mark had been a first-rate sniper. Even if Mike didn't cover him, he wasn't so weak as to be done in by the guerrilla's gunfire.

Emil nodded.

"He was shot. The bullet went straight through his abdomen. Maybe if it had been Samura, but it was too much for Bell Man to treat."

Emil glanced at his partner as he changed his words. He was scared of Black Mamba's aura and felt like an unfortunate incident, like Sergeant Mike being beaten to his death, could occur.

"Anyone else?"

"Miguel and Jang Shin have light injuries. There's no problem there."

"That's good. I can tell the Captain didn't tell me on purpose."

Emil nodded. Black Mamba was the main strength of their team. He was their ace who swayed the flow of battle. The Captain had purposefully made them keep it a secret so that he could rest.

"Pretend as if you don't know until the Captain tells you. When everyone's back and awake, we'll hold his funeral."

"We should put our own lives on the line in order to take others.'"

His comrade had died, but he didn't feel much anger or sadness. The enemy might not have been human, but he had killed over ten of them. There was no telling as to whether he would one day be buried under the yellow sand himself. He didn't consider life or death too important.

"Ugh!"

Emil sighed at his vague words.

The team members began to climb out of their sleeping bags when the sun began to set. Their first battle had given them much physical stress and mental fatigue after contact. Now, they looked better. Sleep was definitely the right prescription for relieving physical and mental stress.

Sergeant Mark was temporarily buried in a tarp. The Captain began to tear up as he marked the bag.

"Mark, I'm sorry. I've buried you in this wasteland due to my incapability as a leader. I'll take you to your hometown as soon as possible, so hold on."

That was what he said, but the possibility of Mark's remains being delayed during transportation was high.

Darkness rained down on the team's faces. They had a casualty when they hadn't even found the raccoon's den. The fact that they'd annihilated the enemy didn't abate their sadness of losing their comrade.

"Look at him, acting pathetic," Emil whispered into Black Mamba's ear.

Sergeant Mike was wailing, with tears streaming down his face.

"You damn b*stard, Mark, you died because you didn't want to have your name confused with mine any longer, didn't you? Nice going. What's Mark anyways? You died because of your name."

'That pathetic b*stard!'

The Captain sighed continuously in a corner to the side. He had protested Sergeant Mike's enlistment to the special forces by Lieutenant Colonel Pieff. He had predicted problems with the teamwork, and, as expected, there were many. He wondered how such a human had been promoted into a sergeant.

Black Mamba stood up abruptly. He had held back, because he didn't want to disrupt the teamwork, but now, his insides were flipping from listening to that idiot's mumbling.

"Black Mamba, don't."

Emil held onto his sleeve, but his hand was thrown off. Black Mamba, who had been standing in front of him, was already in front of Mike.

Smack—

"Ugh."

The mouth which had been saying nonsense was startled into a shout. Mike, who had been slapped harshly, twisted around before falling to the ground. Black Mamba looked around. He couldn't find anything that fit his beating criteria.

'What's the point? I can use anything to catch a pig.'

He took out the supporting beam of a camping bed, a wooden beam around an inch and a half in diameter and seven feet in length. No one stopped Black Mamba. Fighting among comrades was an unspoken rule while going through plans. Mike was an exception. There was no mercenary who didn't suffer under Mike's sudden actions and speech. Everyone's eyes shined with expectations and curiosity, as though they had predicted this would happen. The Captain moved far away, as though he was blind to what was happening.

Black Mamba swung the wooden stick once through the air.

Swoosh—

The sound of the air being sliced open rang out. The wooden stick bent as though it couldn't bear its own speed.

Mike's face, which had been relaxed until then, turned white. He recalled the moment when he had nearly been beaten to death by Black Mamba. It was a nightmare where he had been hung upside down off a cliff by his ankles, watching the dark, swaying sea 230 feet below.

"B-Black Mamba, what's wrong with you?!"

Mike lowered his tail immediately. He couldn't even remember his rank. The only thought in his head was how he could die from being beaten. Black Mamba aimed at Mike's forehead with the tip of his stick.

"Mike, partners have to protect each other's backs. Is the enemy or your partner's back more important?"

"Of course, my partner is more important," answered Mike immediately, frightened.

Black Mamba was a fearsome guy. Mike felt as though the stick would crack his head open at any time.

"You trash b*stard, you didn't even know that your partner had died."

"I still killed over ten people."

"You idiot, 150 died by my hands. Emil was skilled enough to protect my back. Do you think Emil takes up the machine gun and forgets his partner when he's as skilled as you?"

"..."

Mike had much to say, but his mouth wouldn't open. He had blanked out at the sight of Black Mamba's bloodthirsty blue eyes.

"I heard your nickname is the battlefield's crazy b*stard. If you want to be crazy, be a good crazy. I'll engrave your partner's importance into your body so that you'll never abandon them again."

When Black Mamba approached, Mike turned around and ran to the best of his abilities. There was nothing prideful about it. The only thing in his mind was his survival instinct.

"Ha!"

At the surprising situation, the team members' face crumpled instantly. Even if Black Mamba was scary, this wasn't something a sergeant should do.

Black Mamba, temporarily confused, planted his feet into the ground and pulled up a resonance from his lower stomach.

"Haap!"

The resonance that swirled once around his veins strengthened and poured out. The strong wave shook the entire unnamed valley in Sahel.

"Eep!"

Mike's heavy footsteps, running away, immediately stopped. His brain waves had lost their sense of direction after being disrupted by the resonance. His nerves froze as his brain failed to receive any signals.

Black Mamba dragged the stick on the ground as he approached slowly.

He had dredged up his entire strength to puke out the resonance wave, and the result was unsatisfactory.

"F*ck, seems like an unhanded impact is just a martial arts fantasy."

He had barely managed to paralyze Mike. He hadn't shown much impact, aside from losing his strength.

Mike could only roll his eyes around as his body was paralyzed. Black Mamba poked Mike's chest with the end of his stick.

"Pfft— Cough, cough."

Mike began to cough like mad after the paralysis wore off, regaining his stolen breath. He couldn't even tell what had happened.

Black Mamba was a private. Sergeant Mike, who didn't know the authority bestowed on names, had to threaten Black Mamba with his rank, knowing he had to calm Black Mamba no matter what. Mike was a crazy b*stard, but he knew how precious his life was.

"No. Imma sergeant. If you 'it me, I'll make you stand in martial court."

"Whatever."

Bang— Bang— Bang—

Black Mamba began to pummel Mike without a word. He used the All-Torture, which he had used to break Madam Jang's footman Lee. The wooden stick from the outdoor cot was rather good. It felt right in his hands.

The All-Torture's main point was to apply pain similar to the person's limit, causing an increased illusioned sense of pain. It was a strong torture method that increased pain continuously.

The person on the receiving side had no choice but to wait for the pain despite knowing there would be blows. It was hard to maintain one's sanity under such tension and fear.

"Kuuagh, kuuuh!"

A desperate shout echoed across the Sahel's night sky. Mike rolled around in order to avoid the blows, but it was no use. The wooden stick fell on him without fail.

The pain streaked across his head and twisted his spine. His nerves screamed every time a blow fell—he couldn't even faint. Mike begged God, Allah, and Buddha to make him lose consciousness. Even the team members who were watching on slowly lost the color in their cheeks.

'This b*stard's a devil. He's not human.'

Mike was anguished. He preferred death instead. It hadn't even been three minutes, but the shouts had died down. Mike was covered in nose drippings, saliva, and sweat. He couldn't even roll any longer and remained curled up, twitching occasionally. Mike finally fainted during All-Torture's first stage.