God of Blackfield

Including Kang Chan, only four people survived.

While Greg was tying the sleeves and shoelaces of the deceased soldiers, Kasier—their sniper—checked Umbembe’s body.

Watching Kang Chan skillfully shoot down their enemies, recklessly rush toward the truck, and throw the grenades that effectively ended the battle seemed to have caught Greg, Asker, and Kasier off guard.

All they could do now was return to the runway where they had been dropped off. However, Kang Chan was already dying to get answers.

He first took out the map that Gillot had been carrying, then checked their way back. Next, he went into the main building and examined it.

Was it because Umbembe was the leader of the rebels? Without meaning to, he cursed when he saw the food and fruits inside the building.

“Crazy fucker.”

Clank. Clank.

Soon, Greg followed after him and looked around.

“Have everyone come inside. Let’s eat this before we leave,” Kang Chan said.

“Oui,” Greg answered. He then called the two soldiers that were outside.

They should eat before they get beat up. I want their bruises to look good.

Kang Chan and the three other soldiers sat at the table against the wall.

The fruits were common tropical fruits, but he was unfamiliar with the meat. He wasn’t sure if it was beef or goat meat, but it was salted and grilled before a thick, heavily scented sauce similar to curry was poured over it. It was very salty, and the scent irritated him.

It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t like it, though. They didn’t make the food with his tastes in mind.

After having their fill, they all had a smoke together.

After taking a deep drag, Kang Chan exhaled the cigarette smoke.

Finally, it was time to get some answers.

“Asker,” Kang Chan called.

Unlike Greg, Asker didn’t answer right away.

“Why didn’t you do anything when Gillot engaged the enemies in combat?”

Greg and Kasier looked at Asker.

“The enemies were focused on us, and the RPG they fired at us killed two of my men. I couldn’t afford to return fire,” Asker answered. He then looked at Greg and Kasier as if he was making excuses to them. Р

“Greg. Why didn’t you help right away when the gunfight broke out?” Kang Chan asked again.

This time, Asker and Kasier looked at Greg.

“I was waiting in case we had to retreat after killing Ubembe, sir.”

Kang Chan nodded as he took another drag on his cigarette. “Hoo. Kasier, can you accept their reasons?”

Finding it difficult to answer, Kasier wiped the sauce and oil around his mouth to stall.

Still, that gesture was all Kang Chan needed. He stood up, finished his cigarette, and dropped it on the floor. He then stepped on it.

As Asker was glancing at the others across from him, Kang Chan kicked him hard on the chest.

Bam! Crash!

Swoosh!

However, Asker was a special forces soldier. He was quick to get back on his feet.

Swish!

Kang Chan rushed toward Asker and tried to elbow the left side of his face. Asker blocked the attack with his arm and then threw a powerful right to Kang Chan’s waist.

As if hit with a hammer, the air was knocked out of Kang Chan’s lungs. Nevertheless, he tried to hit Asker with his right elbow once more.

This time, his elbow hit Asker between his ear and chin.

Swish! Crunch!

Kang Chan elbowed Asker near the chin one more time. Afterward, he relentlessly struck him in the gut with his second knuckles.

“Urgh!”

Yelling, Asker fell backward onto the floor. After twisting to the side, he vomited what he had eaten.

“Haah. Haah.”

Asker was strong. Despite only having thrown a few blows, Kang Chan was already gasping for breath.

Kang Chan’s side was aching so badly that he felt as if he was being wrung. Ignoring the pain, he turned toward Greg.

“If you or Asker had helped, we could have saved at least one more person. Gillot would still be alive, too,” Kang Chan said.

Greg dropped his gaze in shame, tightly pressing his lips together.

Bam! CRASH!

Kang Chan kicked Greg hard, slamming him against the wall. Unlike Asker, Greg didn’t quickly stand up or fight back.

“Cough! Phoo!”

Behind him, Asker roughly spat and shook his head.

Crack. Crack.

Kang Chan craned his neck from side to side and then turned around, finding Asker in a prone position. Without second thoughts, Kang Chan mercilessly kicked him in the stomach over and over again.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Aske just stood by and watched as his comrades were killed off one after another. Throughout the entire battle, he didn’t even shoot once despite two of his men dying and another being severely wounded.

Thud!

Asker groaned like a dog after falling on top of filth. Only then did Kang Chan back off.

Kang Chan didn’t understand how motherfuckers like them could call themselves special forces soldiers of the Foreign Legion. He felt the same way about the special forces soldiers he had met in the training center.

Were Enzo and Gillot exceptional legionnaires?

How come those good men had to die while these motherfuckers survived and even had the guts to eat fruit and meat?

Getting the urge to kill the bastards again, he turned away from them.

“Kasier. Check if we can use the jeep at the entrance. If we can, we’ll drive it back to the runway using the route on the map,” Kang Chan said.

***

Kasier gauged Greg’s mood. He then stood up. “Oui.”

Clank. Clank.

Kang Chan went out through the front door. He then examined the trucks near the jeep, the Ubangi River that stretched past the vehicles, and the sky looming over them.

This new life didn’t feel unfamiliar at all; he just felt as if he just regained what he had lost or returned from a faraway place. He wasn’t sure why it was so easy for him to get used to this life or what the end of it would look like, though.

Tightly gritting his teeth, he glared at the Ubangi River.

If his life would keep revolving around gunfights to the death, he at least wished he had the ability to protect those he could connect with.

He hoped that would happen, even if he had to become the god of death.

***

Miguel read the report twice. Even though he had given the same report to his superiors, he still couldn’t believe it—the 11th unit of the Foreign Legion’s 13th Regiment acted unilaterally and killed Umbembe, the man they had been so sick and tired of seeing even in their dreams.

Umbembe had many names; he was even known as a rebel leader. However, in reality, he was just an archvillain who killed the natives and trafficked women, children, organs, and drugs to amass wealth.

With his riches, Umbembe hired former special forces soldiers from all around the world as security guards. Eventually, he became a huge headache for the DGSE. They tried to catch and put an end to his reign, but they ended up losing seventy-two legionnaires instead.

Now, Miguel had just read a report stating that twelve special forces soldiers had eliminated Umbembe. Although they lost eight men in the process, he still found it hard to believe.

Miguel—the head of the DGSE’s Central African branch—read the six-page document once more.

“Hmm.”

Like before, the information about the Asian legionnaire caught his attention.

“God of Blackfield, huh?”

Miguel narrowed his eyes at what South African Branch Manager Pierre Raon had written at the bottom right corner of the document.

The DGSE gave him all sorts of information. It also issued duties and special orders to the agents, not the Foreign Legion.

One such order was the elimination of Umbembe.

A special agent was sent to execute it, but he was killed in the line of duty. Afterward, they lost seventy-two legionnaires.

Miguel recently requested huge reinforcements to wipe out Umbembe and his men in one go.

The biggest reason they had to kill him was that Umbembe had completely ignored France’s influence after taking over an area in Congo.

Ubembe even requested tolls from everyone and every vehicle that passed through his territory. If they refused, he killed them immediately.

In any case, Miguel was glad that the nuisance was dead—if the report was factual.

Miguel put down the document. As he considered having a cup of coffee, two agents dressed like safari workers entered.

“We’ve confirmed Umbebe’s death, sir,” one of the agents reported. When Miguel looked back at him, he added, “We’ve got his body downstairs. The eight fallen legionnaires have been taken care of as well.”

“What was the cause of his death?”

“There was a bullet wound in his shoulder, but it looks like the actual cause of his death is a grenade explosion.”

Miguel could finally believe the news. With Umbembe’s death confirmed, he poured some coffee into his mug, feeling much better.

“How many mercenaries did they kill?” he asked afterward.

“We counted at least twenty-nine bodies.”

How am I supposed to believe something so out of this world

Miguel looked at the agent.

“The grenades blew some of the bodies into pieces. We’ll need a bit more time before we can give an exact number,” the agent elaborated.

“Can’t we just count the number of heads?”

“The grenades also tore apart the heads…” The agent shrugged as if it was difficult for him to explain.

I understand why they aren’t too worried about this; how many mercenaries died isn’t really important.

“Find an informant who can contact Ungua. Tell him I want to meet,” Miguel ordered.

“Yes sir.”

Once the agents left, Miguel slowly drank his coffee.

Umbembe’s organization wasn’t going to disappear overnight just because he was gone. However, as Ubembe’s successor, Ungua now had no choice but to cooperate with the DGSE. After all, with Ubembe gone, they could kill Ungua anytime with just Miguel’s command.

“Haah.”

For the first time in so long, Miguel found the air in Africa refreshing.

***

As soon as they reached the runway, Kang Chan greeted the légionnaire stationed there. They were then moved to a nearby temporary base.

Kang Chan was questioned for two hours. Afterward, their operation officially ended.

Perhaps it was because they were near an airport, but the base had a water tank.

Once Kang Chan was assigned to a barracks, he immediately took a refreshing shower. He then treated the wounds he got from sliding down the mountain.

He put on shorts and a cotton t-shirt, then sat in front of the barracks with sweet coffee and a cigarette.

Kang Chan exhaled cigarette smoke. This wasn’t so bad.

He actually felt more comfortable away from Greg, Asker, and Kasier. He heard that they would be going on vacation once they were done being questioned.

Kang Chan never hoped for something like that—he just wished he could stay here for at least a few days.

***

Dayeru Abdul Karim Azar had been huge since he was born. He had a big head; thick forearms; large, threatening eyes; and a waist that was as thick as most trees. Even his neck and ankles were huge. He had a bald spot around the top of his scalp, though, so he kept his head shaved.

Born in Touggourt, Algeria, Dayeru blindly came to France after killing Hamir Al Woofi, the leader of the tribe that had killed his mother and older sister.

Since he couldn’t speak French, Dayeru mostly worked in an Algerian organization. He was usually put in charge of introducing women to tourists or picking fights with them.

Although Dayeru did whatever they told him to do, they couldn’t do anything to him whenever he was enraged.

Dayeru was the perfect example of a simple, straightforward, and stupid person. Hence, he was easy to order around. However, due to his awful temper, they quickly learned that it was best to run away when he was angry.

People suggested pumping him full of bullets, but Dayeru proved to be an excellent asset for an organization fighting against two other Algerian factions.

Naturally, people had tried to attack him with knives, saying that they were going to teach him a lesson. He often quickly resolved it by completely breaking their arms, though.

Dayeru was also loyal, so those who liked him secretly protected him.

Bluntly put, they just had to be careful around him when he was mad. Unfortunately, they couldn’t predict when his switch would flip.

Every night, Dayeru would go out to the front of the Excellemont Hotel[1] in the streets of Saint-Lazare[2], which was where the cheap hotels in Paris, France were.

He would then do his main job: watching French men or Asians looking for women and pickpocketing them as soon as he found an opportunity

At some point, Dayeru stopped smiling. He didn’t cry, though; he never was the type to.

Still, he took special care of older women. Whenever somebody asked them how much their services were and then left afterward, he would always run after them to steal their money. He would then give it to the old women regardless of how much it was.

The women in that area called Dayeru Abdul Karim Azar the head of the Excellemont Algerian Syndicate.

1. A hotel that the author made up ☜

2. a street in the 8th and 9th arrondissements (districts) of Paris, France ☜

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