God of Blackfield

That afternoon, under unfiltered sunshine, Seok Kang-Ho’s team walked along the ridge.

Seok Kang-Ho and Choi Jong-Il led the way, and Gérard and Woo Hee-Seung brought up their rear.

Meanwhile, Kang Chan kept a sharp eye on his surroundings, his index finger on the trigger loop. They were taking a roundabout way up the mountain. Nevertheless, they only had sixteen hours to trek it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t make it in time.

If they weren’t doing this for their country, this would’ve been the perfect time to quit.

Kang Chan’s eyes darted back and forth, surveying the men.

The 606 were clearly well-trained. Given the current condition of the counter-terrorism team, no one would deny that.

Kang Chan grinned to himself. Why the hell were there so many of these soldiers in South Korea?

At this rate, he might start going around saying, “I’m sorry, Mi-Young! I’ve given my life to my country and men!”

For three hours now, they had been walking with twenty kilograms of equipment—including rifles, pistols, bayonets, grenades, magazines, and ammunition—strapped to their bodies. They felt as if they could actually taste death now.

Thud, thud.

Nevertheless, not a single person fell behind. The weight on their shoulders was likely keeping them on their toes.

Behind them, thirty men would soon be facing two hundred Quds.

Thud, thud.

The gruesome battle that the Jeungpyeong special forces team had ahead of them kept the counter-terrorism team members moving.

Keep your heads up. We can’t fall here.

Listen to the desperate pleas in each of my steps and stand firm even in your last moments.

Keep the Taegeukgi in your minds and the Republic of Korea, our home, in your hearts. Together, brothers, we will head back to the country you are willing to shed your blood to protect.

Thud, thud.

Holding on to their anguished hopes, the men marched onward.

Kang Chan had a sharp expression on his face. The gaping wounds and scratches he had all over made him look even more vicious than ever.

This battle wasn’t like any of the ones they had fought before. A nuclear warhead was involved.

Kang Chan had never seen a nuclear missile. However, he was well aware of their horrors.

Perhaps he was even more afraid of them because he had experienced what weapons could do.

Thud, thud.

Kang Chan was also bothered by the atmosphere changing rapidly during his absence.

What could have made Vasili and Ludwig change their plans?

At that moment, he thought of Lanok.

Could he keep Lanok safe once Romain and Josh began to feel like their lives were in danger?

Vasili had said that he was confident.

However, if they ever found themselves in a situation where they could not get reinforcements within the day, could they still rescue Lanok?

Kang Chan looked at the distant sky with glinting eyes.

‘I’ll come over as soon as this battle is over, Mr. Ambassador.’

***

The elevator doors opened, revealing the only entrance to the basement.

Three armed soldiers, two agents, and a man then stepped in from behind them.

Lanok raised his gaze and stood up.

Sarkose, the French president, looked around warily. He then walked toward Lanok.

The two exchanged formal greetings and shook hands. However, their expressions and body language remained void of sincerity or emotion.

“Take a seat.”

“Thank you.”

When Sarkose sat down, Lanok looked up at the agents standing behind him.

Unlike Sarkose, the agents didn’t understand what his gaze meant.

Hence, Sarkose spelled it out for them. “Would you prepare some black tea for us?”

Looking as if he had just come to a realization, one of the agents straightened up and grabbed a teapot and some tea from a table.

Click. Glug.

After some time, the agent finally set down two cups of black tea and stepped back.

“How are you doing?”

“I’ve got tea and cigars, so I can’t complain.”

Lanok picked up a cigar and lit it.

Sarkose turned around. “Would you leave us for a moment?”

As instructed, the two agents headed back to the front of the elevator.

“Lanok, why are you being so stubborn?”

Lanok simply exhaled smoke from his cigar in response.

“From becoming the president to stopping Gong Te Automobile, I’m indebted to you. I haven’t forgotten that.”

Lanok knew that Sarkose still hadn’t gotten to his main point yet, though.

Seeing Lanok’s masked expression, Sarkose continued with difficulty, “I’d like to reinstate you. Can you promise me that there will be no political reprisals?”

Lanok extended his long arm and flicked the ash onto the ashtray.

“Mr. President.”

Sarkose focused on Lanok.

“I’m sure you know how I deal with traitors, don’t you?”

“I didn’t betray you. I promise.”

Lanok smirked. “With just a single word from Romain, you’ve forgotten all the assistance you received from me, yet you say you haven’t changed? How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Lanok, that’s a misunderstanding,” Sarkose quickly replied. “I’ve always planned to meet with you again after Romain is done upholding his end of the bargain.”

A corner of Lanok’s lips curved upward once more.

“He told me that all of Africa could belong to France—that he could make it all happen as soon as I gave my approval since he had already completed all the preparations.”

“Sounds like a good deal, especially right before a presidential election.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

Lanok raised his cup of black tea to his mouth in a gesture of disinterest.

“Lanok.”

“What do you want, sir?” Lanok asked as he set his cup down.

“A guarantee of my safety, no political retaliation, and…”

Sarkose glanced around. “Your cooperation in the next elections.”

Lanok just stared at him. It was almost scary—the look in his eyes and his emotionless expression. It was as if he was wearing a mask.

“Mr. President,” Lanok finally said. “What were the conditions Romain offered to have me imprisoned here?”

“Give me your word first, Lanok.”

“How will you believe me?”

“I trust you.”

“Then please show me that you are trustworthy as well, Mr. President. Isn’t that simple and fair? All you have to do is tell me what Romain offered to put me here.”

Rendered speechless, Sarkose gulped.

“I’m sure you expected to get the Director of the DGSE on your side and thought you wouldn’t have to feel burdened by pushing me out.”

Lanok pushed the end of his cigar into the ashtray.

“If that’s what you believe, then that’s what you have to do, sir.”

“Romain plans to eliminate you, Lanok.”

Lanok smiled.

“Lanok!”

Realizing that he had gotten too loud, Sarkose glanced around his surroundings. Afterward, he sighed.

“I didn’t know that the European, Russian, and Chinese intelligence bureaus would turn against us or that the French intelligence bureau and the DGSE would be so divided. That’s why I am here. Now, I need your word.”

“Trust comes first.”

Lanok seemed unwilling to compromise at all.

“If I stand up and leave now, Romain will eliminate you.”

“It’s your call, Mr. President.”

“You’re going to regret this, Lanok.”

Instead of responding, Lanok wiped all emotions from his face once more. A moment of silence passed.

“Why in the world are you so obsessed with this Korean kid?”

Without hesitation, Lanok responded, “He’s the strongest person in the world. No matter the situation, you can trust and believe in him. That man treated me and France with respect… at least until your and Romain’s greed ruined everything.”

Sarkose easily understood what Lanok meant.

After a moment of silence, he stood up.

“I’ll be on my way.”

“Take care.”

Lanok leaned back in his seat and picked up a magazine.

Sarkose let out a long sigh. He then sat back down.

Seemingly having made up his mind, he began to rattle off.

“Romain said he would introduce a monetary system that could unite Europe, Africa, and Asia.”

Lanok listened intently. However, his eyes remained cold.

“A new standard currency created by a coalition of Middle Eastern oil producers, British financial institutions, and the Rothschilds. It will bring the collapse of the American dollar and become the new currency ruling over Asia and the rest of the world!”

After a brief pause, he added, “In exchange for our cooperation, they have promised France all of Africa.”

“Do you really believe that is possible?”

“You know the power of petro-capital, don’t you? If a new standard currency is created after the dollar is abandoned… not even our country will be able to resist the influence of the Rothschilds and the financial power of petro-capital.”

Lanok shook his head.

“I’ve always known Romain was an idiot, but I didn’t think you would go along with selling out France too.”

‘So Lanok already knew!’

Sarkose suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

“What makes you think this plan is wrong, Lanok?”

“Simple. Monsieur Kang stands opposite them.”

“So let’s get rid of the Korean brat. For the glory of great France.”

Lanok glared at Sarkose.

“If I could, I would. However, France does not have the men to make Romain’s plan our own. Even if Africa is handed to us on a silver platter, we cannot possibly protect it. Only Monsieur Kang has the ability to do that.”

“Don’t we also have you?”

“Mr. President,” Lanok called, silencing Sarkose. “Who do you think holds Europe, Asia, and America in their hands?”

“Well, I suppose Britain controls Asia, and we control Africa.”

“Britain is incapable of organizing all of this. Do you really think Romain and Josh, who can’t even eliminate me, Vasili, or Russia, can tie the world economy together in the face of Russia, China, and the United States’ resistance?”

“I was told there was an alternative.”

“War, I’m sure.”

Sarkose’s expression filled with surprise as he nodded.

“A war involving China. With the appearance of a new gold standard, if all else fails, the perpetrators of the plan will take nearly half the world’s capital in derivatives,” Lanok said.

“Then why don’t we invest in derivatives too?”

At that question, Lanok was unable to hide the fact he thought Sarkose was pathetic. He responded, “France will have to repay Romain for planning the war, and they’ll probably demand a share of Africa.”

“What if we win?”

“All the money in the world goes to the one who owns the gold standard. Now, realize that this plan is not the desperate need of someone hungry. This plan was made by those who want to have more even if it is their last lifeline.”

“If this plan succeeds, and the war happens as I want it to, what will happen to France when the new gold standard is introduced?”

“Every time they release more of the gold standard or withhold its production, the price of food, housing, and the value of wages in France changes. We would have to cling to them, begging them not to cut off our last lifeline.”

Sarkose, who now looked bewildered, turned to Lanok as if he had come to his senses.

“No political reprisals, my safety, and your duty to the honor of France.”

“Give me back the DGSE, and I’ll accept.”

“Understood.”

As Lanok set the magazine back down on the table, Sarkose rose and gestured to the agents.

Looking at the armed men, Lanok thought, ‘Monsieur Kang, you’ll just have to hold on a little longer.’

***

Kang Chan pressed a button on his radio.

Chk.

“Daye, find a place to rest.”

Chk.

“Got it.”

It was already past five in the afternoon. The sun was shining like a halo above the mountaintop, making it hard to see.

Thud, thud.

After radioing Seok Kang-Ho, Kang Chan walked for another ten minutes.

Chk.

“We’ve found one,” Seok Kang-Ho radioed.

Chk.

“Secure the perimeter and stand by.”

Chk.

“Got it.”

After walking for another ten minutes or so, he finally saw Seok Kang-Ho and Choi Jong-Il standing at the end of the ridge, their rifles in hand.

“Over here!”

Kang Chan quickly moved forward and looked around.

The area put the mountain behind him and the rocks in front of him, making it a good place to hide.

“Kang Myung-Gu!”

“Sir!”

Kang Myung-Gu quickly came running.

“We’ll eat dinner here and leave in half an hour.”

“Understood.”

Kang Myung-Gu waved his hand from side to side. The men then dropped to the ground.

Click. Click.

Kang Chan climbed to the top of the ridge that overlooked all four sides.

A few moments later, Seok Kang-Ho and Gérard climbed up to him with C-rations and water packs.

“Let’s eat,” Seok Kang-Ho said. When it came to things like this, he was certainly the best.

“Let’s take turns standing guard.”

“Got it.”

The look that Kang Chan gave Gérard seemed enough for the latter to understand what he had said.

Kang Chan took the first shift. Seok Kang-Ho and Gérard sat across from each other and had dinner.

Gulp. Gulp.

While Kang Chan was drinking from his water pack, Kang Myung-Gu came up the ridge and walked over to him.

“I’ll send some men over. Please get some rest after you eat,” he said.

“They have been walking for hours in full combat gear. This might be the only time they’d ever get to rest, so don’t worry about me. Let them sleep for twenty minutes.”

Since this was his first time joining such an operation, Kang Myung-Gu turned to Seok Kang-Ho as if to confirm what he should do.

“The men need rest. Let them get as much sleep as they can. If they overexert themselves and collapse at night, we can kiss this operation goodbye.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once Kang Myung-Gu had turned around, Seok Kang-Ho resumed eating. He then stood up.

“Make sure you finish your food,” he said. He didn’t really have to tell them that, though.

At the same time, Kang Chan came down the ridge and ate the C-ration that Gérard had opened for him.

“Get even just a few minutes of sleep. We’ll be moving at night,” Kang Chan ordered.

“Understood,” Gérard replied.

This wasn’t his first rodeo. Hence, he had no trouble just leaning against the ridge and resting.

Two minutes later, Kang Chan had finished his meal. He walked up to Seok Kang-Ho.

“Head down and get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“I’m fine. You’re pretty beat up. You need to rest more than I do.”

Instead of replying, Kang Chan scanned their surroundings.

“Are you thinking of Dong-Gyun?”

Kang Chan grinned. He then looked back at the direction that they had come from.

Cha Dong-Gyun and the Jeungpyeong special forces team would do just fine.

***

Cha Dong-Gyun pressed a button on his radio.

Chk.

“Hold your fire. Wait for my signal.”

The Quds, wearing their black uniforms, confidently approached in their trucks.

Chk.

One of the Jeungpyeong special forces team’s snipers, who had just looked at the back of the trucks, said, “Two RPG-7s confirmed.”

A total of ten trucks and two jeeps were approaching them from three hundred meters away.

Cha Dong-Gyun looked around. It would be disadvantageous to them if they let the enemies get any closer to the mountain.

Chk.

“Snipers, take out the drivers of the jeeps, then prioritize anyone who approaches the machine guns on the jeeps or anyone with an RPG.”

Chk.

“Yes, sir.”

The vehicles had closed in on them by about thirty meters.

During training, the snipers would set up a dummy around five hundred or eight hundred meters away from them. They would then attach a watermelon or balloon with red paint to it as its head.

Most people wouldn’t even see a bullet go flying.

At a distance of more than five hundred meters, all one would see was the bullet’s blurred trajectory in the air. It would look as if it had been shot underwater.

Once the bullet had hit the watermelon or balloon, a red color would spread behind it, making it seem as if a person’s head had actually exploded. Snipers had to practice like that so they wouldn’t panic or freak out once they had blown up an actual head.

Sniping was more terrifying than most people thought. It was hard to deal with the fact that the moment one had pulled the trigger, the enemy’s head would explode right in front of their scope.

Cha Dong-Gyun looked ahead as two gunshots echoed.

Pew! Pew!

In the blink of an eye, the jeep drivers’ heads exploded.

Creaaaak!

The jeeps spun out of control. The trucks screeched to a halt beside them.

Pew! Pew! Pew!

Three of the machine gunners in the back of the jeeps fell out of the vehicle and bounced backward.

Five down, one hundred ninety-five enemies to go.