Mercenary Black Mamba

The three guerrillas who were showered with the second round of fragments rolled on the ground as though they had lost their minds. It was due to the after-effects of Jenkem, which heightened their senses and sent pain signals to the brain without restraint. A Jenkem addict felt pain several times greater than the average person when the drug's effects wore off.

Plop, plop, plop—

The three guerrillas who were rolling on the floor fell silent. The bullets, which had flown from a far distance away, silenced their pain. This displayed Black Mamba's benevolence.

Tears rolled down Ahmud's face.

These weren't the sad kind of tears for his subordinates' deaths. They weren't from his tribe, so it didn't matter to him whether they lived or died. He was crying out of anger and frustration.

"Allah, did you send the Kanma in order to punish me?! Why did you birth me in this land, only to send that b*stard here!"

The Kanma had erased his personal guards, Hazis' team, and joined the battle fray.

He was the stupid one to have waited for Hazis' rear attack. He had been thinking that those frog b*stards were strong, but something had definitely been lacking. He should have been more careful.

How had he ended up facing that kind of person? He had long broken out of his dreams to become a FROLINAT council member. His survival was the current concern. He rolled his head at the speed of light.

As Hazis was dead, his last hope had also disappeared. As long as such a person existed, it spelled the end for FROLINAT. No, he was in the wrong for stepping right into the eye of death.

Ahmud looked around at the ten or so soldiers who were choking in fear. They were all dead. He had dragged in a large army of 265 people, and all that had remained was them and six others who resisted sporadically. Either way, they were going to die at the Kanma's hands or the fragments of the rifle grenades. To that Kanma b*stard, numbers were useless.

A single person to control the tides of a gunfire battle in modern warfare—there was nothing more unbelievable. The strength drained from his body.

His life became meaningless. There had already been an annihilation army-wise, and disintegration biology-wise. What could he possible do with twenty cowardly people shivering in fear?

Bang—

The armored vehicle jumped.

"Ugh, that f*cking b*stard!"

Ahmud's teeth chattered. There was a b*stard who threw rifle grenades like mad. The armored vehicle jumped every 20 seconds. It had already received four shots. That b*stard was also a fearsome guy. It was as though he wanted to dismantle the tank.

If their shelter disappeared, that was it.

Run? That wouldn't last a second against the Kanma. He was someone who took out an explosives team from 3,000 feet away. Running wasn't going to work at all.

"Ha!"

He automatically sighed.

'Would I be able to catch the Kanma?'

He was someone who could slip out of the concentrated fire of mortar and recoilless rifles like an eel. Unless they targeted him with a large diameter artillery, there was no way to catch the Kanma. It meant that, realistically, it was near impossible.

He decided on a retreat.

No, he considered a resignation. Although he would excuse himself to Habib, he couldn't make excuses in front of the Kanma. That b*stard was rumored to rip the skin off a human alive. He was more scared of the Kanma than Habib. That was the reason behind his determination to resign.

Ahmud's survival method was to rely on his animalistic instincts to understand when to retreat.

"Officer, send the retreat signal."

His subordinate immediately took out the recorder and blew.

Beep— Beep— Beep—

The hidden guerrillas scattered like ants as though they had waited for the signal. Rifle grenades and sniping bullets chased after the sprinting guerrillas' backs. Even the rifle grenade that was continuously marking the tank moved towards the running guerrillas.

'Yes, that's your last assignment and loyalty.'

Ahmud's eyes looked at the old ants, oecophylla smaragdina, luring the fire and sniping away, emotionless. Here, the old and young weren't an issue of age, but an issue of conception.

Ahmud didn't budge from his rigid posture. His subordinate suddenly found his respect rising.

"Commander, you should go. Allah will protect us."

Ahmud glanced back. There was a deep trench dug behind the armored vehicle's backside. It had been the machine guns' camp. Of course, the machine gun shooter had a large hole in his head.

"That damned Allah, what did I do wrong to send that sort of evil spirit after me?"

These were disrespectful words, but his subordinate didn't hear them as they had been murmured.

Ahmud jumped into the trench.

"Subordinate, bury me."

"Commander, there's no reason to go this far..."

"You piece of sh*t, bury me when I tell you to!" Ahmud shouted.

The subordinate's eye welled with respect. To decide to bury himself alive, taking responsibility for their defeat, his commander truly lived up to his name.

"There are many b*stards who curse you for being an opportunistic person, commander. I'll hang all of their heads. I respect you. Yessir!"

Ahmud found it ridiculous. He had basically ordered someone he bossed around to mock him.

The subordinate, whose loyalty had risen, began to dig rapidly with a shovel.

When his body was covered with sand, Ahmud pulled out a pipe similar to an IV line from his robe and sneakily pushed it through the ground.

'That moron, that b*stard's not going to live long either. People who act as though they're morally good or extremely kind never live long.'

Bang—

Jang Shin's rifle grenade crashed against the tank for the fifth time.

Crash—

The vehicle that had received a row of rifle grenades finally broke apart, unable to bear the shots. The iron plates fell to the ground, and the outer dome crashed inwards. It was, as expected, a weak product made out of thin iron plates. One side of the iron plate fell over the trench Ahmud was buried in and became a lid.

The subordinate, who was still holding a shovel, spun once on the spot before falling. The shards of the rifle grenade had dug through half of his neck. Ahmud's fifth officer hadn't lasted a few days before dying, too. Ahmud was definitely a subordinate murderer.

A thick silence descended on the battlefield. The white smoke and stench of blood moved with the wind. It was the largest battle the mercenaries had ever fought in.

The captain was the first to climb out of the trench.

His face, covered with sweat and dust, only revealed his white eyes. He could barely control his shaking arms and legs to crawl out due to the overflow of adrenaline.

The gravity weighing on his eyelids seemed ten times stronger.

He wanted to fall down and sleep then and there, but there was too much to do. There was also Black Mamba, who had been fighting all night with his injured body without rest. Although he wasn't human, he was certainly still his subordinate. He forced his falling heavy eyelids open. There was so much to do.

- Battle over. Burimer, are you alive?

- Yes, sorry for living.

Burimer climbed out of the rocks. All of the sandbags he had placed in front of the rocks had exploded, leaving the remains of a hundred bullets.

"Are you injured?"

Blood was trickling down Burimer's forehead. It must have been ripped open by a stray bullet or torn against a fragment of rock. He wiped his forehead with his palm.

"It's a small scratch."

"Disinfect it immediately. They've retired. We need to retire, too."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to send you the night's fee."

"The bills should be piled high at the records."

"Hehe, I'm planning to go to Concordia and vacation for a week around the world once I get back."

"I've heard that Concordia has a separate place for fishing. It's the perfect place for you."

"Let's go together."

"Hm, if Black Mamba's going, I'm going too."

"Why Black Mamba?"

"The pay he's going to receive will be immense. We should share, eh? Hahaha!"

The two relieved their tension with white lies.

- Black Mamba?

- Yes, sir.

- How's the rear?

- Thirty-six cleared. Emil's on watch.

- Good! Call him over.

The members gathered one by one. Everyone wore tired and depressed expressions. Black Mamba approached with Miguel's corpse on his shoulder, while Bell Man arrived with the upper half of Mouris' body. There hadn't been time to find his lower half.

The living team members looked down at Mouris and Miguel with sad faces. Mouris had lost his right arm and everything below his hip.

Miguel had been killed by a bullet through the skull.

"Dead without pain."

At Black Mamba's words, everyone nodded. At least that was a relief. The living weren't able to open their mouths. They could only stare down at their comrades who had turned into mounds of protein.

The captain spoke through clenched teeth.

"Everyone, you did well. It was my fault for setting up camp in an open field. If Black Mamba had been 30 seconds later, we would have all died. Mouris and Miguel have lost their lives protecting their comrades."

All the mercenaries nodded. Black Mamba had returned just before the enemy had surged forward. They would have been finished in that second.

"Why, Miguel!"

"Mouris, you idiot!"

"You impatient b*stard, you should have died after paying me back. Aaaah!"

Looking at their comrades' pitiful states, their suppressed tears erupted. They hadn't even realized their comrades' deaths, too busy fighting. No, they had sensed it when their firepower went down. They had only denied the truth.

"Mourning is possible only for the living. We've lived, and we need to return alive."

"Miguel, I'm sorry. I sent you off without even treating you," Bell Man cried, clutching his corpse.

"Aah, ah, Mouris, I'm sorry. If you live, I wouldn't even mind being beaten up by Black Mamba again. Sob, I mean, I've been beaten up anyway, but live if you can."

Mike began to ramble things that didn't make sense.

Not even the hard-headed, rough mercenaries were able to stop their tears because of their comrades' deaths.

"Everyone, maintain your calm. We don't even have time to organize the battlefield."

The mercenaries, shaken back to reality by the Captain's scolding, dragged their heavy feet and moved busily. Jang Shin inherited Mouris' job and began to take records with pictures. It was hard to even gather their equipment with the few members they had.

Black Mamba, who was returning to camp with Miguel in his arms, stopped walking.

"What is it?" Bell Man asked.

A thick teardrop rolled down Black Mamba's face.

Bell Man's heart dropped.

"Chartres?"

Black Mamba nodded without a word.

He couldn't sense Chartres' life force. Only the dim aura of death hovered around.

The group's pace became faster.

Bell Man ran into the tent in a hurry.

The group who returned to the camp faced another painful reality. Chartres, who had been left alone at the camp, had died. The reason behind his death was muscle constriction that had stiffened beyond his limit and uneven breathing.

Stiffening muscles caused immense pain.

Chartres' face was extremely crumpled, the evidence of his torture. Intelligent mercenary Chartres had died in torture without a single comrade by his side.

The stiffened muscles didn't relax, even when Bell Man massaged them to his best abilities. His skin was still hard like wood.

"Chartres, you b*stard, how dare a mercenary die from something like tetanus?!" Burimer wailed as he punched the cot's wooden beams.

Black Mamba was unable to take his hands off Chartres' body.

He felt as though the body would disappear once he let go. He had suffered through many deaths, but Chartres' death was special. He had been his friend and mentor.

"God, where are you? Do you not exist in this devastated and rough land? Tell me why they had to die and why I have to suffer so much. Do I need to earn my food's worth? I knew working for debts was scary, but was it so expensive that it had to be paid with lives?!"

"Black Mamba, why are you searching for God all of a sudden? Chartres was an atheist. We need to set up his funeral and go."

Jang Shin, unlike his usual self, stopped Black Mamba's rambling. The way his voice started to rise harshly was worrying. When a predator went wild, no one would be capable of stopping it.

"Agh... Chartres, aaaaaah!"

And as Jang Shin feared, the monster's wail rang out. The wavelengths which were mixed with anger and fear clashed against the cliff's surface. The cliff rumbled, and rocks started to fall. The mercenaries, frightened, ran out of the tent with their ears covered.

"Chartres, Chartres!"

The desert rang with desperate howls. The mercenaries' eyes turned red as one.

"He wasn't a monster. He's a human," Mike whispered to Burimer.

"No, a sad monster who wants to become a human," Burimer said with a wet voice.

Chartres hadn't been able to escape his Central European point of view but was knowledgeable in recent and current events. He was also knowledgeable in Eastern Asian ideas and theologies. The comrades were now unable to listen to Chartres' valuable lectures.

Black Mamba, who had poured out a wave of sadness, slid Chartres' eyes shut. The eyelids Bell Man hadn't been able to close fell down gently. He relaxed each of Chartres' stiffened facial muscles one by one by using his resonance.

He felt empty. What was the point of amassing decades' worth of knowledge with such effort?! He had been done in by a small creature invisible to the eye. A bullet that weighed less than an ounce could make a heap of protein.

Bell Man ran an autopsy on Chartres. The cause of death had been the pentobarbital he had injected to fight against the tetanus, which had caused a worse reaction. The overdosed pentobarbital had caused a rapid heart rate. Bell Man blamed his shallow depth of medical knowledge.

Pain, sadness, depression, and unjust negative feelings floated around in excess.