God of Blackfield

After lunch and a brief rest, Kang Chan issued the order to move out.

Manrici, along with another soldier, moved ahead. They advanced past those standing like gravestones with empty and hollow gazes built on a foundation of grief.

If it weren’t for that grief, if it weren’t for the bloodshot eyes of the old woman leaning against the wall, constantly wiping away tears, they might have held out here longer.

Creak. Creak.

Heading onward with his rifle slung over his right shoulder, Kang Chan could only think of one thing: somewhere at the end of this march, they could find a child who would survive all this—just as Enzo and Gillot had. Perhaps they would grow up dirty like Enzo, regretful like Gillot, or even bitter like Kang Chan himself.

Still, isn’t it more important that they at least get a chance to live?

Twenty minutes would pass quickly—it was nothing for trained soldiers. The blazing midday sun and the hot sand were minor inconveniences. The real issue was the complications that could arise just from walking across the desert.

A sniper could be hidden beneath the sand, lying in wait with their rifle aimed like a scorpion. An actual scorpion or some venomous creature could also crawl up their legs. Lastly, there was the constant irritation from Smithen, who was always trying to position himself at the back and stirring murderous impulses.

Tap, tap!

After about twenty minutes of walking, they heard a rifle’s muzzle being tapped lightly from up ahead. Kang Chan quickly approached the scouts, finding Manrici lying prone on a dune and facing forward.

Kang Chan immediately joined him, using his left hand to brace himself as he approached. About thirty meters ahead, where the sand ended, was a ridge around thirty meters high. Like a gaping mouth, nestled within it was a tribal village. It had a narrow entrance, but its interior widened out.

Right out front was a line of people—all still hanging from the ropes that killed them. Perhaps if they were still alive, this would be even more horrifying.

The sandstorm tugged at the corpses’ clothes. The small bodies with short legs dangling among the others only made the scene even more heartbreaking.

This was the kind of scene that fit the narrative of a tribal massacre.

Should we have set out sooner? At the very least, we could’ve given the children a chance to live long enough to grow old with the desert. They could’ve seen as many sunsets as the sands in this barren land.

As Kang Chan stared ahead with eyes full of fury, a scream was caught in the wind and brushed past him. The sight that unfolded was all too familiar. A man in a turban and ragged clothes was dragging a woman by the hair toward the hanging corpses.

An old man hanging onto the man in a turban shouted something, but other people with AK rifles blocked him. A child screamed in terror.

“Reznov!” Kang Chan shouted.

“Oui!” Reznov responded.

“Aim for the one holding the woman! The moment Reznov fires, we charge! Manrici! Pick four soldiers!”

“Oui!”

“Smithen! Cover us from behind with four men!”

“Oui!”

As Reznov set up his CheyTac on the dune, Kang Chan turned and checked his magazine. The shouts and screams made it easier to mask their approach, but it didn’t mean they could afford to make any noise.

The land was all sand, and running through it was nothing like running on solid ground.

“Haaa.”

With a sigh, Kang Chan fixed his gaze ahead. Shouts erupted in quick succession.

The Sunni man trying to hang the woman was yelling, while the old man and the child were begging for mercy with equal desperation. As the man tossed a long rope over the wooden frame, the boy’s scream pierced the air.

“Aaaaah!”

“Reznov!” Kang Chan shouted.

Boom!

The gunshot rang out first, and in the blink of an eye, the man who had thrown the rope was slammed backward as if he’d been blown away.

Thud!

Creak! Creak! Shluff! Shluff!

Kang Chan charged forward. Manrici and four other soldiers followed close behind.

Clack!

Kang Chan aimed as he ran.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Only Kang Chan could shoot like this, especially with women, old men, and children with nooses around their necks nearby.

Creak! Creak! Shluff! Shluff!

“Huff! Huff!”

Weapons clattering, boots hitting the sand, and the rough breathing of the soldiers burst out around Kang Chan. Running across the sand, not knowing when a bullet could strike, was a nerve-wracking and terrifying experience.

Boom! Boom!

The second sniper shot echoed as they narrowed the distance to about thirty meters.

“Manrici!” Kang Chan shouted and briefly pointed ahead with his left hand.

“Huff! Huff!”

Manrici and two soldiers dashed toward the left wall near the entrance.

Ten meters to go.

Gunfire erupted from the direction that Manrici had run toward.

Ratatatatat! Tat! Ratatatat!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Manrici and one soldier were knocked to the ground, while another soldier fired back wildly in the direction of the threat.

Crash!

Kang Chan leaped in front of the hostages. The pungent smell from the hanging corpses hit him hard, but he had no time to think about it now.

“Get them out of here!” Kang Chan shouted, and two soldiers dragged the hostages toward the right wall.

Ratatatatat! Thud!

Bullets whizzed past Kang Chan. As a sharp pain flared from his right side, the child screamed again.

Clack! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Kang Chan fired while retreating. One of the soldiers was desperately pulling a bloodied old man away from the fray.

Qwack!

Finally, he managed to retreat to the right wall at the entrance.

Ratatat! Tat! Thud! Ratatat! Whiz!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Kang Chan noticed that the lone soldier on the left side was in danger. He was firing desperately, but from Kang Chan’s position, it was hard to see where the sniper’s hideout was located. He was certain that the sniper was so well hidden that even Reznov didn’t have a shot.

Tat! Thud! Ratatat! Whiz! Bang! Bang!

Kang Chan and the soldiers on the right provided cover fire.

He then turned and yelled, “Is there a way up there?!”

The woman and child seemed out of their minds, probably because they had just witnessed the old man get shot.

“Talk to me!” Kang Chan urged.

“There’s a passage inside! It leads up from the inside!” the boy said as he pointed to the entrance with his right hand. “There are a lot of people inside too!”

Tears welled up in the child’s eyes. Kang Chan pressed the push-to-talk button on the radio.

Chk.

“Reznov! I’m going inside! Provide cover fire! Smithen! Move Manrici until I’ve dealt with the enemies inside!” Kang Chan ordered.

Afterward, he glanced at the two soldiers with him. They had already heard the orders over the radio and knew what to do.

Ratatat! Whiz! Bang! Bang! Ratat! Thud!

‘One, two!’

After counting to three, Kang Chan charged inside.

Creak. Creak.

The interior was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Caves were carved into the circular hill inside, like the seating in an opera house.

Ratatat! Tat!

Gunfire rang out immediately, and smoke billowed from one of the caves. Kang Chan stood alone on the stage, with the audience shooting instead of clapping. The bullets could pierce his eyes, rip through his throat, or tear his heart apart.

Clack. Bang! Bang!

Huff. Huff.

Amid the enemy’s shouts and gunfire, Kang Chan strained to hear himself breathing.

What the hell is this?

It was as if someone suddenly splashed water on his face; everything around him started to move in slow motion.

What’s going on?!

He could see everything—clearly. All of it, in such precise and detailed clarity that it was impossible to describe. The muzzle of the gun poking out from the cave, the stance of the man aiming it, even the grains of sand drifting in the wind—he could see it all.

Did I die when I heard that gunshot earlier? Is that why everything’s moving so slowly?

He had a similar experience when he fought at the training camp, but that was nothing compared to this.

Clack!

Kang Chan took aim. Whether he was dead or alive, he couldn’t just stand around and watch the enemy aim at him.

Bang! Thud!

A dark hole appeared in the forehead of the man with the AK rifle. He collapsed as his head jerked from side to side.

Damn it all!

Clack! Bang! Clack! Bang! Clack! Bang!

Kang Chan kept firing as he ran.

So this is what it means to fight like a ghost. Fine, then!

If it meant saving the soldier pinned against the wall, then he would gladly die and turn into a ghost.

Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud!

I don’t care what you believe in. Just make sure you end up in hell when you die!

Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud! Bang! Thud!

Kang Chan dashed toward the back of the left wall, where the boy had pointed. He spotted a staircase inside, leading further up like a tunnel.

When I get there myself, I’ll line you all up and kill you again!

Crash!

Kang Chan spun around as he ran up.

Flash!

A knife came slashing down from above.

Huff. Huff.

Fucking bastard! You can see me even though I’m already dead? Watch as your knife falls slowly, then!

Bang! Thud!

Kang Chan fired just in time.

Whizz!

Another knife came flying from higher up the stairs.

This time, it was too late to aim his rifle.

Crash!

Kang Chan pressed his body against the wall as hard as he could.

Wham!

He then grabbed the clothes of the man who had swung the knife.

Swish! Thud! Splurt! Splurt! Thud!

Kang Chan drew the combat knife from his belt and swiftly slashed and stabbed the enemy's armpit, side, neck, and solar plexus in quick succession.

Crash! Thud! Thud! Splat!

The enemy tumbled down the stairs and collapsed onto the floor.

***

The Neck Ghost of North Korea and the DMZ King of South Korea were both monsters and heroes. They brought death to their enemies and life to their allies.

Yang Dong-Sik froze in place as leaves brushed against his shoulder. He quickly gazed back, but no one was there. He was sure that Kang Chul-Gyu had been standing there just a moment before.

Rustle! Crunch!

A moment later, a familiar sound emerged from the darkness. Yang Dong-Sik exhaled softly and swallowed dryly.

It wasn’t just that Kang Chul-Gyu could move without making a noise unlike other people; he could also snap the neck of a feared Spetsnaz operative using only his left hand. Just now, he had deliberately slit the enemy's throat to avoid the sound of breaking bones. He even covered the enemy’s mouth and nose to prevent even a single gurgle from escaping.

Swish.

Kang Chul-Gyu emerged from the darkness as if he were materializing out of thin air. He then signaled with his eyes to advance before disappearing again. Yang Dong-Sik felt tears welling up.

Everyone knew that today was the birthday of Kang Chul-Gyu’s child. Nevertheless, despite the news that Spetsnaz would be deploying today, he had stepped forward once again.

“Please, take the day off,” Nam Il-Gyu had suggested.

Kang Chul-Gyu responded with a faint smile. “All the kids holding the posts right now are someone's precious son.”

“Just for today…”

“Il-Gyu.”

“Sir.”

Even though Nam Il-Gyu responded quickly, Kang Chul-Gyu remained silent for a moment.

Kang Chul-Gyu was a living legend, though he was more famous among enemy forces than among his own. There was even a joke that any North Korean soldier who managed to take Kang Chul-Gyu's head would instantly become the minister of the Air Force Airborne Corps of the People's Liberation Army.

"Our motto!" Kang Chul-Gyu shouted.

"I'm sorry, my family! I've given my life for my country and my comrades!" Nam Il-Gyu declared resolutely.

Swish.

Nam Il-Gyu suddenly popped his head out next to Yang Dong-Sik, bringing him back to the present. Yang Dong-Sik almost thrust his knife forward in surprise.

‘What are you doing?’

Those who had lived this kind of life for a long time could tell what a person was thinking just by looking into their eyes.

‘Let’s go!’

Yang Dong-Sik nodded and followed Nam Il-Gyu.

The faint crescent moon kept the night pitch black. Hence, he had to stop breathing for a bit just to barely detect the enemy's presence. On top of that, he also had to search for and eliminate any enemy in hiding during his patrol.

‘That man will be resented by his child one day.’

Yang Dong-Sik quickly brushed the thought aside. After all, he wasn't in any position to judge others. He had barely taken a few more steps, moving slowly over thirty seconds, when a terrifying sound reached his ears.

Crack! Slice! Whiz! Thud! Crash!

No matter how urgent it was, rushing out would be a suicidal move. He needed to check for any movement around him and proceed cautiously, like a tree swaying in the wind.

Crack! Swish! Thud!

After taking two more steps, shadows tangled against the backdrop of the dark sky. Five figures surrounded one.

Are you telling me to hold back here?

Crash! Rustle!

The moment Yang Dong-Sik charged forward, the leaves right beside him shook, and someone suddenly crashed into those leaves.

Rustle!

Thud! Swish!

Nam Il-Gyu had ambushed the Spetsnaz soldier targeting Yang Dong-Sik. Leaving him behind, Yang Dong-Sik lunged toward Kang Chul-Gyu, who was facing five enemies.

Whish!

One of the enemies by the flank swung a knife at Yang Dong-Sik.

Thunk! Swish! Thud! Swish! Thud!

Yang Dong-Sik drew the knife strapped to his shoulder and engaged the enemy. Both parties knew that this battle wouldn’t end until one side was dead. The eerie silence of the fight, with no shouts, curses, or even heavy breathing, made it even more unsettling.

Wham!

Yang Dong-Sik gritted his teeth as the enemy punched him in the side, causing all air in his lungs to escape.

Thud! Slice! Thud! Slice! Swish!

Still, Kang Chul-Gyu was fighting five—now four—of these enemies all by himself. Hence, Yang Dong-Sik couldn’t stop.

Whish! Wham! Swish! Thud!

Just as he managed to block the enemy’s knife and swung his knife twice, an awl drove into his side and forearm in quick succession.

Thunk! Thunk!

‘Aargh!’

It was a signature weapon of the Spetsnaz.

Slam!

Yang Dong-Sik stubbornly grabbed the enemy’s neck.

You didn't see this coming, did you? You had no idea there was someone who could teach you how to fight with an injured arm, did you? That's because I’m the right hand of the DMZ King! Or more like the deputy prime minister of the DMZ!

Swish! Swish!

Yang Dong-Sik had been taught to target the eyes first when grabbing the enemy, then the right armpit and neck, before cutting the windpipe.

Stab! Stab!

Slice!

“Grrrk.”

As the enemy fell to the ground, Kang Chul-Gyu, with terrifying eyes, appeared in front of him. He glanced at the fallen enemy before checking on Yang Dong-Sik.

Huff. Huff.

Only Yang Dong-Sik and Nam Il-Gyu knew Kang Chul-Gyu’s unique breathing pattern. They knew that when he breathed like this, it meant that his anger had reached the sky, and no one should challenge him.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Yang Dong-Sik’s tears welled up again in gratitude. After all, Kang Chul-Gyu grew so furious because Nam Il-Gyu and Yang Dong-Sik had been in danger.

Slice! Slice!

‘Crazy bastard!’

In this emotional moment, Nam Il-Gyu was busy trying to give the enemy a“view of Seoul.”