God of Blackfield

Chapter 256: Certainty Set In (1)

Lost in thought, Kang Chan stared at the name "Kim Mi-Young" on the envelope.

Gérard, who looked so refreshed that he seemed to have just finished showering, approached Kang Chan.

"What are you doing?"

"Letters have arrived for me..." Kang Chan answered.

"Huh? You get letters, Captain?"

Kang Chan smirked at Gérard, realizing that neither he, Daye, nor Gérard had ever received a letter. If they had loved ones who would write letters to them, they would not have chosen to be mercenaries.

"Are they death threats? Are people saying they’ll kill you?" Gérard asked.

Kang Chan’s thoughts about receiving letters didn’t differ much from Gérard's.

Damn it! How is anyone supposed to expect any kind of affection from these people? They have about as much vibe as a brick wall!

"What's up?" Seok Kang-Ho asked as he walked over. "Huh? You got letters?"

Seok Kang-Ho's reaction was no different from Gérard's.

"Who are they from?" Seok Kang-Ho asked.

"Yoo-Seul, Mother, and Mi-Young," Kang Chan answered.

Seok Kang-Ho looked at the envelopes and then at Kang Chan with surprise. "They know you’re here?"

"I'm not sure."

"Did Manager Kim have a hand in this? Open them up."

"I can read them later. Go make some coffee."

"What's the big deal? Just read them."

As Seok Kang-Ho peered suspiciously at the letters, Gérard glanced around, probably looking for the army interpreter.

Finding it best to divert their attention in this situation, Kang Chan called out to Gérard, "Gérard! Have you reported back to Command yet? Any issues?"

"I already handled it. They looked rather relieved, which made it seem like a routine procedure to them. This is just a hunch, but I think they already knew we were on our way back."

As Kang Chan and Gérard conversed in French, Seok Kang-Ho looked toward the barracks.

"Captain, Someone is probably using the UN as an excuse to gather us here," Gérard said.

"Why do you think so?" asked Kang Chan as he pocketed the letter.

"Thanks to you, I've become the commander of the Foreign Legion’s special forces. Anyway, I contacted the 11th Regiment in Congo via satellite phone earlier. Their situation is dire, yet here we are, calm as can be. It doesn't make sense."

"Trouble in Congo?"

At the mention of Congo, Seok Kang-Ho looked back and forth between Kang Chan and Gérard.

Congo, a prominent French colony in Africa, was stained with blood and ruthless battles that had claimed dozens of lives. Most African countries starting with the letter "C" had once been French colonies, and among them, Congo was a notable nation plagued by civil war.

To break their enemy's will, tribes engaged in brutal conflicts had committed various atrocities just to kill their enemies in horrific ways. They had beheaded, poured boiling oil over, and burned people alive. They had even cut open pregnant women to remove their unborn children.

Half of the civil wars in Africa were due to policies implemented by former colonial powers, and the other half were caused by the borders that the occupying nations had arbitrarily drawn. Even now, France held the right to station its military in its former colonies whenever conflicts arose. Hence, whenever a local leader instigated a civil war, France invariably dispatched its Foreign Legion.

Kang Chan had rushed into these tribal wars but often saved the wrong tribe. Hence, despite having accumulated remarkable achievements, he often found himself with reduced allowances or his medals stripped.

"The Congo rebels are attacking Butuba, which we are supporting,” Gérard explained, “yet, the 13th Regiment is here, wasting time."

"Butuba? Did you just say 'Butuba'?" asked Seok Kang-Ho.

His eyes glinted upon hearing the name, clearly well aware of Butuba’s notoriety for incredibly brutal battles.

"Ah! I can't stand this! How long is he going to shower?" Seok Kang-Ho grumbled and headed toward the barracks.

"Hey, interpreter! Shouldn't you be done by now?" he shouted.

With a gruff bellow, a soldier rushed out with his hair still dripping water. He was probably growing tired of speaking French.

"Look. you subdued the Spetsnaz, and I'm sure Andrei is at the top of their chain of command," Gérard said.

Looking at the Spetsnaz soldiers, who were resting, Kang Chan inwardly agreed.

Gérard continued, "We also have the SBS, not the SAS, sprawled out in the blistering sun. Do you really think the situation here is bad enough to warrant the strongest units of four countries?"

Seok Kang-Ho nodded in agreement after the interpreter conveyed Gérard's words.

Gérard added, "Honestly, with the military power present here, we could achieve landslide victories against the nearby rebels. I heard the Green Berets were just unlucky to be hit by a suicide bomber and then an RPG right after, but the skirmish wasn’t that fierce."

"You mean, except for the United States, the other countries have their strongest teams tied up here?" Kang Chan asked.

"Yes!" Gérard exclaimed.

"Now that I think about it, that's true!" Seok Kang-Ho chimed in.

"Moi aussi," the interpreter translated. After oddly translating Seok Kang-Ho's words as "me too," he nervously glanced over at Kang Chan to see his reaction.

'It would be best to pretend not to notice such oddities.'

Kang Chan’s brows furrowed as he gazed into space.

It could be argued that South Korea was here because it was weaker than the others, but if that were the case, why were France, Russia, England, and the United States also here? Something was amiss.

Every soldier was fated to put their lives on the line rushing into battle like a pawn in a chess game. However, Kang Chan had already endured such absurdities in his previous life. Letting the South Korean special forces die in vain like dogs in this place was unacceptable. They weren’t just some random mercenaries.

Who else could provide the most accurate answer to Gérard’s doubts but Lanok? It would be impossible for him not to know the answer.

'What could it be?'

What was going on that made even the UN orchestrate this stupid act?

Kang Chan gazed at the Spetsnaz and SBS soldiers seated on a bench. Talking to Andrei or that gorilla would probably just feel awkward and raise unnecessary suspicions.

"Let's just observe for now. I'll make a few calls tomorrow so we can at least get a rough idea of what’s happening," he said.

Seok Kang-Ho and Gérard nodded in response.

***

Brandon, the Director of the DIA, set down a pure gold teacup, his lips twitching subtly as he did. His mind was occupied by the thought of the countless people, including agents and soldiers he cherished, dying for such frivolous luxury. However, he wasn't foolish or dense enough to express such emotions. Such behavior was more expected of Ethan of England.

A cool breeze swept through the interior, perhaps from the air conditioning, but Brandon couldn't really tell where it was coming from. The distinctive Islamic arches and opulence adorning the room held Brandon's attention until Abdul Abib, dressed in a thobe, entered from an adjoining door.

Abdul Abib was the de facto ruler of Saudi Arabia. He possessed wealth so vast that not even the CIA could accurately track its total amount daily.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting," Abdul Abib greeted Brandon in fluent English, ostentatiously kissing his cheeks. "Please have a seat.”

He gestured to a chair and sat down. Grapes and a cup of tea were then promptly brought to his side table.

"There seems to have been a minor commotion in Africa,” he remarked.

"It's already been dealt with," responded Brandon.

"What about Lanok’s and Vasili's movements?" Abdul Abib asked as his fingers, each adorned with a large ring, plucked a grape and brought it to his mouth.

"They’re proving difficult to deal with," Brandon replied.

"Same with Moon Jae-Hyun, I suppose?"

"Despite how he is, he's still the President of South Korea. It will require some time."

As Abib plucked another grape, he raised his gaze to meet Brandon's.

Brandon continued, "We're doing our best.”

"I know, but what we need right now is results. If their plans are what we suspect, then we can’t afford to take things slow, and neither can America, especially since the Eurasian Rail is about to choke off our breathing room," Abdul Abib replied. He straightened up, seemingly losing interest in the grapes. "After tomorrow, the special forces in Africa will no longer be a concern for you, Director."

Brandon's eyes widened. Abdul Abib remained calm, seemingly unaffected by his reaction.

"Don't worry about the UN or the international community."

"We still need confirmation," Brandon urged.

"Hesitating may mean missing an irreplaceable opportunity. That’s why, when the strongest forces of France, Russia, and that detestable Korea are eliminated, I expect you to show results."

Brandon felt as if Abdul Abib's words were choking him. Even he, the DIA Director, couldn't unilaterally decide on such a matter.

"I haven’t gotten approval from the homeland yet, and our men are still there. Besides, if we use force against globally recognized special forces and fail, it'll only heighten their vigilance," he countered.

Abdul Abib smirked, raising only one corner of his lips. "Director, you've always underestimated the might of our Islamic soldiers. It would be a problem if you mistook our patience for weakness.”

Seeing the determination in Abdul Abib's eyes, Brandon knew there was no reversing this decision.

Abdul Abib added, "We will no longer just watch the base in Mongolia."

'Have things developed to that extent?'

Brandon, who controlled a worldwide intelligence network, found himself involuntarily shaking his head.

"Now is the time for action, not just opinions, Director. People are starting to learn about Blackhead, denadite, and cetinium. If we can't possess them all, then we have to utterly destroy them. That will cause the Eurasian Rail to collapse.”

Brandon pursed his lips and sighed softly. Andul Abib was right. After all, Lanok, Vasili, and the damn God of Blackfield were involved.

"Eliminating the heads of intelligence who are aware of Blackhead's potential will make Germany and Switzerland naturally bow down."

"Isn't it still too early to tell? Can't we proceed a bit more slowly?" Brandon asked.

Abdul Abib shook his head. "If Blackhead and the two other minerals become an alternative to oil as we fear, my country won’t be the only one affected; all of the United States' oil engines, their components, and the intellectual property rights to their designs will become obsolete. I'm quite disappointed with what you've said today, Director."

'Why the hurry?' Brandon thought. His expression hardened.

"Our soldiers are already on their way to Africa. If you're still not ready, we will deal with Lanok and Vasili ourselves," Abdul Abib declared.

"Lanok is in South Korea, and Vasili is in the heart of Russia," Brandon pointed out.

Abdul Abib gave Brandon a faint smile, the corners of his eyes curving. "The biggest issue with you, Director, is your tendency to prioritize assassination. You’re always so concerned with covering your tracks. Our soldiers, however, are different. Moreover, as I’m sure you’re well aware of, South Korea is particularly vulnerable to bombings due to its weak defenses and lack of experience."

"Have you considered the consequences?"

"Do you really think America can hold its position if we delay things and let the next generation of energy technology come to fruition? If we let that happen, the revenue flow we're currently enjoying will shift toward South Korea, France, and Russia."

Abdul Abib made a gesture with his hand that looked like a fish changing direction. He then shook his head.

"Can America handle such a massive loss in revenue and drop in the value of the dollar? The moment South Korea establishes its next-generation energy operations at the Mongolian base, their won will become the leading currency in international transactions. If Ethan of England hadn't foolishly caused a mishap by mistaking this next-generation energy source for a weapon, we would have been duped as well. Now is not the time to worry about consequences."

"You're planning a Jihad?"

"Well, South Korea did humiliate our warriors in Afghanistan with France’s support."

Brandon's expression hardened further.

Abdul Abib gazed at the grapes as he asked, "Did you know Germany is secretly developing electric cars?"

"Don’t you hold a substantial stake in the company that’s making them?"

Abdul Abib smiled out of formality. "It's a new type of car that’s powered by electricity that isn’t derived from oil or uranium. It’s a revolutionary technology that reduces the number of engine parts to just 45% of the current number."

Brandon gasped. This was news even to the DIA.

"Moreover, under the guise of waste recycling, the German intelligence agency secretly secured funding for this project from a completely unexpected source—Japan."

Startled, Brandon felt as if he'd been struck on both cheeks.

"The countries that feel my country and the US can't come up with a strategy to combat the new energy source are independently seeking survival. Do you still think my plan is wrong?"

"We should at least warn Japan," replied Brandon.

"We can't make them give up on the undersea tunnel. Even if a new source of energy is being utilized, the shares for that must belong to my country and the US."

"Understood," Brandon said, firming his resolve.

"Tonight, we start in Africa," Abdul Abib stated calmly. "But before we do, we would like to extend our goodwill to you."

Brandon had no choice but to agree.

***

Kang Chan spent a satisfying afternoon enjoying a meal of ramyeon, instant black bean noodles, and kimchi. Although he wanted to read the letters, he hadn't found the time to yet. That was just an excuse he was telling himself, though. He could easily make time for it if he just set his mind to it.

However, he didn't want to rush reading his first-ever letters, especially since they were marked with the names "Lee Yoo-Seul," "Yoo Hye-Sook," and "Kim Mi-Young." It was comparable to a man not wanting to hastily consume a feast that he was seeing for the first time in his life.

Hence, when Kang Chan finally had some time to kill, he chose not to read the letters. Instead, he picked up the satellite phone and went to his room. He had to know why he had been dumped in this damn place. He'd probably be in a better state of mind to read the letters once he had gotten answers to that.

Kang Chan considered prodding Anne for information first but decided against it since it would be impolite. Rather, it would just make it seem as if he were doubting Lanok. If he truly trusted Lanok and considered him an ally, then it would only be proper to call him directly. This was how Kang-Chan normally handled things.

The call was answered as soon as he pressed the call button.

- Mr. Kang Chan!

Does Lanok know my number?

Kang Chan couldn't help but admire Lanok's intelligence-gathering capabilities.

"It’s been a while, Mr. Ambassador," Kang Chan greeted.

- How are you finding Africa?

Both Lanok and Kang Chan burst into laughter at the question. Hearing the voice of a dear ally filled them with joy and a sense of comfort even though they likely had feelings of disappointment and regret.

"Mr. Ambassador, I'll get straight to the point since you’re probably busy. I want to know the real reason I'm here."

Kang Chan wasted no time. After all, this was an important matter that concerned the lives of his men. Moreover, he didn't want to chat and laugh around questions were weighing on his heart.

- Monsieur Kang.

Lanok's tone changed, making Kang Chan listen more intently.

- It's hard to discuss even just the dinner menu through this line. For now, trust me and your instincts, Monsieur Kang.

"You mean I should stake my life on it."

After a brief silence, Lanok burst into laughter.

- Hahaha! Those listening to this call would be surprised. I'll contact you soon.

"Understood, Mr. Ambassador."

- Mr. Kang Chan.

"Yes?"

Lanok’s tone and the way he addressed Kang Chan changed again. Kang Chan felt as if he was beginning to understand the emotions that Lanok wanted to convey.

- We will win this war.

'What is that supposed to mean—ah!'

Kang Chan suddenly recalled the scene at the press conference that Lanok had mentioned. Back then, Kang Chan had spoken about the God of Blackfield, the name his enemies had given him, and explained that it meant "a god who brings death."

He'd said, "We will win this war."

Kang Chan also remembered his last words at the press conference.

"Because I've got your back."

Lanok's gentle laughter rang out.

- You might want to prepare a fiery gift over there.

"I will."

After hanging up, Kang Chan got lost in his thoughts. If he was right, then he had to prepare to deliver death to the enemy. Anyone eavesdropping surely wouldn't miss the underlying meaning of such a conversation. In fact, it proved more effective than blatantly telling him that the enemy could strike at any moment.

Kang Chan's suspicion turned into certainty. Now, the only task left was to uncover what was happening beyond the prying eyes of other intelligence agencies.

As the sun neared the horizon, Kang Chan contemplated reading the letters he had tucked into his pants.

He glanced at the door.

'Should I lock it?'

The thought struck him as amusing. Why was he checking the door just to read three letters?

As he finally decided to push through with it, the door burst open and Seok Kang-Ho barged into the room, urgency written all over his expression.

"Captain! We need you outside!"

Kang Chan didn’t even have time to ask questions. He hastily followed Seok Kang-Ho outside and to the barracks that he had pointed at.

‘What now?‘ Kang Chan thought.

A Somali woman was rushing toward him. Her head, forearms, hands, and shins were drenched in blood,

"Suurudkaad! I caawiya! I caawiya!" she exclaimed.

Kang Chan examined the woman's face as she clutched his sleeve and wailed. He then turned his head toward the men.

One of them explained, "She’s saying that the rebels are here! I didn't catch all the details because she kept frantically running around to find you, but she keeps repeating that people are dying! She's begging for help!"

"Suurudkaad!" The woman's large eyes filled with tears as she looked at Kang Chan. "I caawiya! I caawiya!"

She gazed in the direction of her tribe, wailing incessantly despite her parched mouth. Her lips were extremely dry, which made sense considering she had just run a distance that would take forty minutes to cover by car.

"Someone bring us some water!" Kang Chan shouted.

A soldier quickly brought over some water in a mug.

Not even glancing at the water, the woman prostrated in front of Kang Chan. "Suurudkaad!"

She had run here, with her arms and legs soaked in blood, to plead for them to rescue her people, who were being brutally murdered at this very moment. These were the pitiable people of Africa—people who had songs as their only solace from the harsh lives they endured.

UN? International politics? Red Cross? No matter which organization Kang Chan was attached to, he couldn't ignore someone begging to be saved.

"Suurudkaad! I caawiya!"

The tear-drenched woman looked up at him.

Kang Chan called out, "Gérard!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Tell everyone to grab their weapons and move out!"

"Yes, sir!"

As ordered, the French special forces sprinted to the barracks.

Realizing what was happening, the woman burst into tears again, her mouth wide open. "Whaaa!"

"Daye! Cha Dong-Kyun! Everyone, arm yourselves!"

"Roger that!"

"Understood!"

Whoosh!

The South Korean special forces rushed into their barracks as well. A few moments later, a soldier brought Kang Chan his rifle, vest, and helmet.

"Mahad! Mahad! Suurudkaad!" the woman cried out, barely managing to express her gratitude.

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