God of Blackfield

The transport plane departed, leaving behind seventeen future casualties. The soldiers simply didn’t know it yet.

The setting sun, the swarm of black flies, the busy soldiers setting up the tent—these scenes filled Ndulele today.

Kang Chan sat at a dusty table with a cigarette in his mouth, looking indifferent. He knew smoking this much was bad for his health, but he couldn’t stop reaching for cigarettes now.

Clomp. Clomp.

One of the guys in front of the tent approached Kang Chan. He had a square jaw, thick neck, solid chest, bulging arms, and a hairstyle that was shaved close except for the short hair right above his forehead, a so-called “assault troop” style.

The man hesitated in front of Kang Chan. He seemed to have something to ask but didn’t want to appear weak in front of a younger-looking Asian.

“We will get new orders in two days. We’ve been commanded to rest until then, so go relax,” Kang Chan ordered.

However, the man didn’t move.

The man seemed to be picking a fight, which annoyed Kang Chan so much that he could probably kill him where he stood right now. Surprise immediately followed, however, for having such a murderous thought just because the man refused to leave. At that moment, he realized how quickly one could turn into a murderer.

“Phew.”

Kang Chan dropped the cigarette he was smoking and crushed it underfoot. He then stood up.

He doesn’t deserve to die. I’m a soldier, not a murderer.

He walked around the table and took two steps.

“Hey,” the man called very casually.

When Kang Chan stopped and turned back around, he saw half a dozen guys watching from the front of the tent. He had experienced this endlessly back at the training center.

He slowly approached the man.

“Go rest. If you call me like that again, it won’t end well for you.”

Their eyes met.

“Hey! Let’s get along nicely,” the man replied.

Just as he snickered snicker, Kang Chan punched him in the throat with his right fist.

The distinctive groans of Westerners echoed from the tent.

“Ooooh!”

You fuckers just wait a bit; I'll deal with you soon.

“Gack! Gaagh!”

As the man struggled to breathe, Kang Chan grabbed his head with both hands and pushed him down. At the same time, he struck the man’s face with his knee.

Thud!

The big guy fell back, raising a cloud of dust.

Clomp. Clomp.

Without hesitation, Kang Chan walked toward the tent.

You know, Enzo, it really pisses me off to see these idiots acting up, considering they could all be dead in two days.

Some hesitated, some took up a fighting stance, and some looked as if they’d throw the first punch, but it didn't matter. They were all dead men walking. Maybe one of them would survive like Kang Chan, but most would end up as a feast for the flies.

Let’s calm down! What good would it do to beat up people about to walk into their deaths anyway?

Kang Chan sighed softly.

“Do whatever you want until the mission starts, but don’t touch me. If anyone else pisses me off, I’ll take it as a death wish and grant it,” he said.

Just by meeting someone's eyes, one could tell whether the other person was full of hot air or if they could really kill. As the men looked into Kang Chan's eyes, they heard moaning from the ground behind them.

Kang Chan didn't care, nor did he want to care. He moved to Enzo's tent.

Westerners had blond or brown hair, matching eyebrows, sharp noses, and hair all over their bodies, but the most notable thing was that it always felt like Westerners were big-boned, especially compared to Asians.

Perhaps that was why they found it easy to underestimate Asians.

Kang Chan collapsed onto the cot.

***

Pierre Raon sighed softly as he looked at the map spread out on his desk. Ten kilometers north of Ndulele lay the barren land of Beeshock, which was dotted with small hills.

The DGSE had stationed the Foreign Legion’s 13th Special Forces Regiment to monitor Abdul Janelle and prepare for potential interference from other countries. It was supposed to be a perfect deployment.

However, the DGSE ended up assassinating Abdul Janelle and securing Ndulele's intelligence. Afterward, they sent seventeen fresh recruits to the only trainee left in Ndulele and gave them an unexpected day off.

Pierre Raon picked up a cigarette, lit it, and leaned back in his chair.

"Hooo!"

After the two-day-old soldier and the seventeen fetus soldiers enjoyed their day off, they would be ordered to join the 13th Regiment in Beeshock. No matter how new they were, they were still Legionnaires. A 10-kilometer march meant nothing to them.

However, they wouldn’t just be marching. That 10-kilometer stretch was like hell on Earth. They would have to deal with rebels committing all sorts of atrocities in the villages along the way.

The influence of the South African government didn’t reach that area, and France, having secured the Eye of Ndulele, no longer had any reason to maintain it.

What would happen if radical Islamists overrun a village praying under the cross in predominantly Christian South Africa?

"Hoooo!"

Pierre Raon exhaled a longer plume of smoke in frustration. Considering Abdul Janelle had just been eliminated, it was quite easy to imagine the rebels' reaction once the Legionnaires passed through the place. Unless one was Godzilla—who was friends with Modzilla—it wasn’t hard to predict.

Had Pierre Raon known this and received such an order, he would have instantly put the rifle's muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

However, the soldiers weren’t allowed to desert. The moment they tried, the 13th Regiment would swiftly intervene.

Pierre Raon stubbed out his cigarette in the tin ashtray and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. Even though the surviving soldier likely knew nothing about the Eye of Ndulele, he was still targeted simply because he saw what happened in Ndulele. The remaining seventeen were mere decorations to legitimize the mission.

Pierre Raon wet his lips, straightened up, and leaned against the desk. He then picked up the pen to his right, took out the report under the map, and signed it.

The only thing left now was for the soldier in charge to send a radio message to Ndulele's base tomorrow evening. Before handing over the documents, Pierre Raon lifted the cover to take one last look at the face of the soldier from the East. It was difficult to guess the age of Easterners.

Pierre Raon didn’t find the soldier attractive, and he certainly wasn’t interested in young men. He only found himself looking at the photo because the soldier looked as if he could never lose in anything, yet he had a deep sense of loneliness in his eyes.

There was nothing Pierre could do or give, though. With a sigh, he closed the file. In about two days, he would see this soldier on the casualty list.

***

Darkness had once again taken over the African skies.

How long did I sleep?

Kang Chan got up from bed. He just woke up from a deep sleep, yet he didn’t feel refreshed.

Mosquitoes! Mosquitoes! Damn mosquitoes!

During the day, flies sucked the blood of the dead, and at night, mosquitoes drained the blood of the living—him. He licked his index and middle fingers and applied saliva to his itchy neck. The medical kit contained ointments, but he felt like he was getting sillier the longer he was in Africa.

Kang Chan stood up, drank some water, and opened the medical kit. He then turned back, finding it just too cumbersome.

I need a smoke first.

Fortunately, there were cigarettes among the supplies, which he found incredibly satisfying.

Click! Hiss! Hiss!

Kang Chan closed the lighter's lid, shook it hard, and lit it again.

Click! Hiss!

The flame barely caught, seeming to need more fuel. After a quick smoke, it was time to sleep again. However, it would be silly to go back to sleep without doing anything, so he figured he should at least be smart and light a mosquito coil.

Finding mosquito repellent in the supply box behind the desk, Kang Chan licked his lips as he took out the lighter. The flame would catch, but the short wick would burn out immediately. It was bothersome, so Kang Chan just lay down—not because he was dumb, but because he was lazy.

A pleasant scent tickled his nose.

Was there such a soft fragrance in Africa?

Kang Chan opened his eyes to the smell that seemed to make up for the difficulties of the past two days. The morning coffee aroma in Africa was divine. He got up, drank water, washed his face with the remaining water, and stepped outside.

As if waiting for him to wake up, the peeking sunlight rushed in, swallowing the darkness inside the tent.

Kang Chan walked over to the central table, and the three soldiers who were sitting there stood up with wary looks.

“Coffee?” one of them asked, his pronunciation making it clear that he was American. He then poured him a large cup of coffee.

Thinking that there was no reason to refuse such an offer, Kang Chan took the cup and quietly took a sip.

Nice! Coffee is great!

He didn’t think that coffee could have such a comforting aroma until he took a sip. Seeing Kang Chan's expression, the soldier pushed two cans across the table.

Bastard! He offered me plain coffee first when he had these all this time?

Kang Chan added cream and sugar to the coffee, making it tempting and really sweet.

“How many arrived with you?” the soldier who had given him the coffee asked.

“Sixteen.”

A brief silence followed as the soldiers exchanged glances. They likely guessed what had happened to the sixteen others who weren’t present.

“We had a senior officer named Enzo too.”

The silence deepened.

They did give me coffee. It’s only proper to return the favor.

Kang Chan continued, “I heard that most new soldiers sent here die within forty-eight hours. The sixteen others who came with me didn’t even last twenty-four hours.”

The three soldiers gritted their teeth in determination, trying not to show fear. Seeing no need to comment on their expressions, Kang Chan leaned against the table and drank his coffee.

“Are you from North Korea? Japan? China?” the soldier who had given the coffee asked, watching Kang Chan’s reaction.

“South Korea,” Kang Chan answered.

The soldier’s puzzled expression turned into a slight nod. It was hard to tell if he actually understood or just pretended to.

Kang Chan had breakfast, refilled his lighter, rested, had lunch, took a nap, and then had dinner. The three soldiers lingered nearby the whole time, but since they could do whatever they wanted, Kang Chan didn’t argue against it.

The more the clock's hands moved, the tighter their time felt. The evening felt similar to the moments before disembarking from the cargo plane.

As Kang Chan drank the sugar from the bottom of his cup, they heard avoid among the winds. It sounded as if someone was speaking to a fan.

[Base! Base! Come in.]

Click. Click.

The three soldiers who had been with him all day followed behind him.

[Base! Base! Come in.]

Kang Chan picked up the receiver on the desk.

“This is Base.”

[Depart tomorrow at 07:00 and gather at Point Delta.]

“Understood.”

With what sounded like a gust of wind, the transmission was cut off.

On the table, Kang Chan spread the map that the transport officer had given. He then smirked.

He didn’t expect to see the target point so clearly circled in red, especially on an operational map. Even the route from Ndulele to the target point was marked in red.

“Beeshock?”

Kang Chan examined the route.

It’s roughly 10 kilometers.

They expect us to join up on foot? They could just pick us up by taking a truck through the outer road! What am I missing here? If only Enzo was here or I had a bit of experience, then I would have instantly understood the real meaning behind such an order.

Silence and tension slowly spread out.