God of Blackfield

Swiiiish! Swiiish!

The world was still enveloped in darkness. After the fighter jets returned, the wounded were moved to a room on the second floor. Kang Chan called Kim Hyung-Jung and then let the men rest according to the severity of their injuries. Afterward, he went to the roof with Gérard.

“We got out alive again,” Gérard remarked.

“Were you expecting us to die?” Kang Chan joked.

Gérard laughed in disbelief.

Just then, Seok Kang-Ho and Kwak Cheol-Ho came up the stairs with bowls in their hands.

“What’s that?” Kang Chan asked.

“I went through the effort of making these just for you. You know how good I am at this,” Seok Kang-Ho answered.

In each hand, the two men held what looked like instant coffee in a rice bowl in each hand.

“I burned a broken table and a broken chair. I’ll bring cup noodles in a bit too.”

If there was food available, Seok Kang-Ho wouldn’t just stand around doing nothing. He would do whatever it took to eat it.

Kang Chan took the rice bowl from Seok Kang-Ho, and Gérard took one from Kwak Cheol-Ho. The first sip made Kang Chan feel comforted both physically and mentally.

“Here! At times like this, coffee has to be accompanied by this.”

Seok Kang-Ho took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Although he could be a bit ignorant, he definitely knew how to lighten up the mood.

The four men each put a cigarette in their mouths and took turns lighting them.

“Hoo.”

This was probably bad for their health, but nothing could heal their mental condition quite like this after a near-death experience.

Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Really? Right now?

Kang Chan held the rice bowl with his left hand and the cigarette in his mouth. He then took out his phone and answered the call.

“Hello?”

- The United States has sent us Sherman’s location, sir.

What are those bastards up to now?

- The DIA called me and told us to be sure to pass the information on to you.

“Why would the United States want to do that?”

- Likely to save some face in the international community. They clearly tried to trick and eliminate you, but by giving Sherman to us, they’ll have an excuse for doing so. They also seem to think this is the best thing they can do in the long run.

Kang Chan nodded in understanding.

“We’ll medevac the wounded first, and then we’ll decide. There’s no way we can head out right now.”

- I believe the Foreign Legion is almost there.

“Alright. I’ll call you back once we’ve taken care of the wounded.”

After ending the call, Kang Chan relayed the call conversation twice, once in Korean and once in French.

While staring at the darkness beyond the rooftop, the four eventually saw a series of vehicle headlights approaching.

Fuck!

The fact that Kang Chan was so happy to see the lights made him realize that he was really alive.

However, it was too soon to let their guard down.

Chk.

“Vehicles approaching. They seem to be the Foreign Legion, but just to be safe, I want men guarding the entrance on the first floor,” Kang Chan ordered.

Vroooom! Vroom! Vrooom!

The long and heavy jeeps and trucks drove directly toward the building. Ten minutes later, the vehicles pulled up in front, and soldiers in Foreign Legion uniforms stepped out.

Creeeak! Clunk! Clunk!

“Gérard! Have them take care of the wounded first. Secure the perimeter, too.”

“Oui!”

Gérard immediately descended from the roof.

“Got a cigarette?” Kang Chan asked Seok Kang-Ho, who then handed him one.

Click.

While lighting it, Kang Chan saw Gérard leave the entrance and approach the soldiers outside. The man gave off a completely different aura when commanding the Foreign Legion.

His posture, gaze, expression, and the charisma he radiated… How could such a man look so sad and helpless whenever he was next to Kang Chan?

Kang Chan smirked and blew out a long stream of cigarette smoke.

“Hoo.”

I guess he’s slightly better than Daye in this regard. Daye looks ignorant no matter what he does.

Seemingly noticing Kang Chan’s gaze, Seok Kang-Ho asked, “What’s the plan now?”

“We haven’t even seen a hair on that bastard Ziegfeld yet. I’m not stopping until we twist his neck.”

“Phuhu.”

The look in Seok Kang-Ho’s eyes made him seem like a hungry tiger that had a dog in front of him.

The Foreign Legion was creating so much commotion that the night seemed to be coming alive. Under Gérard’s orders, they tended to the wounded as best as they could.

Du du du du du du du du.

A noisy helicopter swooped overhead, and a radio transmission came from a Foreign Legion soldier who had been standing guard.

“We’ve got two Apaches and eight Blackhawks coming in.”

Smirking, Kang Chan sharply gazed at the approaching helicopters. It was obvious who had sent them.

Du du du du du du.

“The fuck?!” Seok Kang-Ho cursed and glowered.

Land further away, motherfuckers!

They were coming down in the middle of the field, where piles of dead limbs, scattering blood-soaked dirt everywhere as a result.

“Move! Move!”

Just as Kang Chan thought, it was the American Green Berets.

Despite how the situation looked, the men stepped out of the helicopter with their rifles in hand as if in the middle of a dramatic battle and stayed on high alert.

“Ha! What a shitshow!” Seok Kang-Ho commented.

Kang Chan chuckled.

They were like marathoners who ran across a finish line after the podium had already been cleared and cleaned.

Kang Chan would applaud those athletes, but not these men, whose intentions he could see right through.

While he looked at them pathetically, one came running up to him.

“Captain!”

Kang Chan didn’t expect the United States to send the same men who had fought alongside them in Africa. No matter the situation, it would always be nice to meet a comrade-in-arms who had been through hell and back with them.

“It’s been a while,” Kang Chan greeted.

“We came hurrying over the moment we received the news,” Robert said.

“When did you hear about it?”

Robert looked iffy about giving Kang Chan an answer.

Pft.

Hence, Kang Chan simply laughed. What good could come out of pestering a man who only lived to follow orders?

“Why don’t you say hello?” Kang Chan suggested, pointing to the others with his chin.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Robert told Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, and Kwak Cheol-Ho. “We will transport the wounded to the United States first.”

Meeting Kang Chan’s gaze, he added, “I heard they’re in critical condition. On my honor, I swear to protect them.”

A special forces commander’s promise was weighty, especially one that put their honor on the line.

Since it was the wisest decision they could make for their men, Kang Chan gave his approval after briefly consulting with Seok Kang-Ho and Kwak Cheol-Ho.

As they moved the wounded to the helicopter, Yoon Sang-Ki came to Kang Chan with a concerned expression.

“Kang Chul-Gyu sunbae-nim says he’ll stay here.”

Everything just had to be difficult tonight. Kang Chan already expected Kang Chul-Gyu to be stubborn about leaving, though.

Hence, he simply nodded in response. He then went to Kang Chul-Gyu with the men who had been on the rooftop with him.

“We’ve got the Foreign Legion and the Green Berets with us. You should take the helicopter to a hospital.”

Kang Chul-Gyu looked at Kang Chan stubbornly.

“Father.”

Kwak Cheol-Ho and Yoon Sang-Ki looked curiously between Kang Chan and Kang Chul-Gyu, and Seok Kang-Ho watched on with amusement.

A moment of silence passed.

“Okay. I’ll go to the hospital.”

Kang Chul-Gyu turned and started walking toward the helicopters.

“Phuhu.”

“Well, it’s better than calling him ‘old man.’”

“I didn’t say anything. I should also call him Father next time.”

“I’ll do the same,” Kwak Cheol-Ho obliviously added.

Squelch, squelch.

Kang Chan followed Kang Chul-Gyu toward the helicopter where the wounded were being boarded. He didn’t know how the men knew about him, but the Foreign Legion soldiers and Green Berets who were seeing him for the first time watched him with curiosity.

Kang Chan looked at Nam Il-Gyu, Cha Dong-Gyun, Oh Gwang-Taek, and the other soldiers one by one.

Du du du du du du du.

“I’ll be back.”

The helicopter noises made it hard to hear him. Hence, Kang Chan read Kang Chul-Gyu’s lips instead.

Kang Chul-Gyu probably knew that in his current condition, he would only get in the way, especially now that the Foreign Legion and Green Berets were here.

Kang Chan grinned, and Kang Chul-Gyu smirked.

Turning away from the helicopter, Kang Chan looked at Robert, who was standing behind him.

“Robert! I’m holding you to your word.”

“You have nothing to worry about, sir.”

Kang Chan nodded. Robert then pointed his index and middle fingers at the sky.

Du du du du du du. Du du du du du du.

As signaled, the helicopters took off.

“Gérard! Have the men eat and rest until morning. Command the Foreign Legion to guard the perimeter again.”

“Oui!”

“Kwak Cheol-Ho! Have everyone sleep after they eat.”

“Yes, sir.”

The men ate their fill of the food that the Foreign Legion and Green Berets had provided. Afterward, they lay down in a room on the second floor using the cots brought by the Foreign Legion.

Despite the commotion outside due to the soldiers moving the enemies’ corpses to one area, Kang Chan still fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

‘Ziegfeld, you son of a bitch.’

Drifting off into a deep sleep, he envisioned the beautiful scene of twisting Ziegfeld’s neck.

***

Israeli Security Council conference, chaired by the prime minister.

“This means the United States will sacrifice us to get away from the situation,” Israel’s Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Affairs Minister Chapi Presley quietly commented. “If the United States hands Sherman over to Mr. Kang, we’ll be his only enemies.”

Everyone focused on him somberly.

“South Korea has recently become a force equal to the United States. If we hold out, we may find ourselves facing Russia, France, and China at the same time, not to mention a united Arab force.”

“Haah.”

The prime minister looked at the overseer of the Mossad.

“What’s this Mr. Kang like?”

“Grafelt here trained with him. Perhaps it will be of some assistance to hear him.”

Grafelt looked at the prime minister and those present. With a solemn expression, he began, “I can answer that question with one sentence. Either get rid of him or make concessions. Those are our only true options, sir.”

The atmosphere in the room became as heavy as lead.

“How do we get rid of him?” the prime minister asked, breaking the short silence.

“Please turn your attention to this footage from Afghanistan,” Grafelt pointed toward the screen on the wall, which showed Kang Chan in action, then turned toward it himself. “After this, he won a complete victory against six hundred Quds in Africa.”

The prime minister gazed at Grafelt with discomfort. The screen was shut off soon after.

“Again in Afghanistan, he wiped out the UIS. Now, he has held off five hundred men with a mere thirty in Cuba.”

“Grafelt, I believe I asked about ways to kill him, not how amazing he is.”

“If you are willing to sacrifice Sayeret Matkal, sir, then we estimate about a five percent chance of success.”

The prime minister chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Is it true that he is only nineteen years old?”

“Yes, sir. He graduated from high school this year.”

The prime minister looked around in disbelief.

“Taking into consideration Lanok’s presence in South Korea, his father establishing a French public car sales company, Gérard de Mermier of the Foreign Legion staying by his side to protect him, the National Intelligence Service managing him, and the DGSE having trained him…”

Grafelt looked up from the papers.

“The most logical conclusion is that South Korea and France secretly created him.”

“Even with the Mossad watching Lanok so closely, he still managed to make such an accomplishment… This is unbelievable. Well, what can we do about it?”

Meeting the prime minister’s gaze, Chapi began to look even more troubled.

“His elimination, all-out war, or…”

“Handing over Ziegfeld to him, like the Americans did.”

“Yes, sir.”

The prime minister sighed heavily, then looked sharply around the room.

“Have you analyzed the greatest burden we would bear if we handed Ziegfeld over?”

The painful question acknowledged Kang Chan’s power and assumed that Israel would bow its head to him.

“We will have to give up the gold standard, and we’ll be having difficulties managing the economies of England and the United States for a while,” the Finance Minister replied. “The US economy, which we have been suffocating, could be revitalized. We would also lose our control over the oil prices.”

“For how long?”

“With Parthal in their hands, I’d say it’ll take ten years at least and thirty at most before we can recover our vested economic interests.”

The prime minister rubbed his forehead and pressed his thumb against his temple.

“What are the odds of the US hiding Sherman or handing over a decoy?”

“Satellites from Russia, China, and France are monitoring his place with pinpoint accuracy. Mr. Kang is already the new leader of the intelligence world. With that in mind…”

The prime minister’s piercing gaze quieted Grafelt down. An unpleasant, sullen silence followed.

“If we fight in an all-out war, what are our chances of winning?”

“If the United States stands with us—”

“They abandoned Sherman. What are the chances they would be on our side? Give me a conclusion under the assumption that we, Israel, will be fighting alone.”

“Less than one percent, sir.”

A snort of disbelief summed up the prime minister’s sentiment.

“If they empty Gaza, and Russia, China, and France nuke us, then it will be all over for us.”

“Who would have imagined a Korean would be able to unite the Arabs?”

The prime minister shook his head.

“Well, I never thought it would be so easy to take out Abibu and Jibril, especially when they were under our care.”

He sighed deeply.

“Where is Ziegfeld now?”

The director of the Mossad nodded at the question. Only the prime minister understood what he meant.

***

Sherman swiped his hand across his face in exhaustion and looked at his phone. Calls were coming in nonstop from the DIA, NSA, CIA, and the Oval Office.

Once again, he checked the number on the other phone in his hand. He then gave it a call.

[The number you have dialed is not in service…]

After pressing the end button, Sherman looked out the window.

He had never imagined that the Star of David would take such lowly means to conceal himself. If he was still the CIA director and had the power he used to wield, Ziegfeld wouldn’t have dared resort to this kind of method.

Sherman gritted his teeth, his long cheeks twitching unpleasantly to the eye.

Daylight was breaking. He had to land in two hours, if only to refuel, and he had to find a way before then.

There was only one man who could save him now.

‘Monsieur Kang!’

Kang Chan would make wise judgments, keep his word, find Ziegfeld, and surely eliminate him. He was the only person who could.

For now, Sherman had to swallow his pride and cooperate with him to track down Ziegfeld. Kang Chan would definitely be interested. After all, Sherman still had his experience with the United States and the CIA.

Sherman gritted his teeth and searched for Kang Chan’s number. He then pressed the call button.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Finally, the call connected.

- Allo?

Kang Chan sounded strangely reassuring. This was the strong voice of a commander who had defeated five hundred Peruvian special forces soldiers with only thirty men.

“Monsieur Kang, this is Sherman.”

- Get to the point.

“I want to negotiate.”

Sherman looked outside the window and awaited Kang Chan’s response. He would surely make a wise decision.

- Sherman.

I knew it!

Kang Chan now sounded gentle.

Sherman’s lips curved into a smile… until Kang Chan continued.

- We received a report earlier that a South Korean fighter jet spotted your plane. The US DIA tipped us off.

“Monsieur Kang!”

- I heard a shoot-down has been authorized. You called a bit too late, don’t you think?

Kang Chan chuckled from the other end of the line, causing chills to run down Sherman’s back.

- Romain will be waiting for you in hell. Why don’t you pray one last time? One of our soldiers, Yang Dong-Sik, died because of you. I’d be careful not to meet him, okay?

Sherman was too dazed to speak.

- Goodbye, motherfucker.

The call dropped.

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