God of Blackfield

With his blond-streaked hair, thick eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and long eyelashes, Gérard had a look that didn’t quite fit the Foreign Legion.

Despite Sharlan’s objections, Kang Chan had selected him. Though he hadn’t mentioned it, the soldier reminded him of Gillot. It was as if Gillot, who had always wanted to soar through the skies, was urging him to pick this recruit.

“Stop. Go get treated,” Kang Chan ordered.

The soldier’s cheeks twitched but soon turned away.

“Gérard.”

Swish.

Gérard turned his head back.

“If you want, I can send you somewhere else. But if you choose to stay, respond when I give an order.”

Gérard’s cheek twitched again.

“What the hell is your problem?” Kang Chan muttered in Korean to Dayeru.

Dayeru, speaking in Arabic, pointed at the overturned table next to the field cot.

“Fucking crazy bastard! If he put the bags on the table because he didn’t know any better, you could have at least tried asking nicely first,” Kang Chan said.

Dayeru either didn’t understand or just pretended not to, but he wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand and set the fallen table upright.

What a troublesome bastard.

Kang Chan shook his head as he headed back to the barracks. The commotion died down once Gérard was moved to the adjacent barracks.

That was about as much involvement as he’d normally allow. What was the point of nitpicking at men who could be sent to their deaths at any moment? Even if he did say something, it wasn’t like anyone would listen anyway.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Around sunset, the rookie that Sharlan had chosen came over with cans and plates, laying them out on the table.

“What’s this?” Kang Chan inquired.

“Dinner, sir.”

“Why are you bringing it?”

“Someone had to, right?”

Did this kid work as a server somewhere?

Considering the way he set the table for dinner, he somehow seemed more skilled with plates than weapons.

Clang. Clang.

Dayeru soon walked over with cotton up his nose and his hand supporting his waist. He chuckled as he sat down next to Kang Chan.

The three ate dinner together with the blood-red sunset as their backdrop. As darkness settled in, Sharlan called the rookie to his tent.

“You called for me, sir?” the rookie asked.

“Sit down.”

The rookie sat upright across from him.

“Your training results were excellent.”

“I was determined to join the 11th unit, sir.”

“I assume it’s because of the legend of the God of Blackfield?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sharlan sighed softly.

“Adapting won’t be easy, but don’t hesitate to come to me if you ever need anything or if you’re in trouble,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sharlan nodded and then gestured the rookie away with the back of his hand. There was no need to reveal too much right from the start.

***

Click! Fwoosh!

Kang Chan took a drag of his cigarette and sipped on sweet coffee as he watched the last traces of the sunset.

How did the rebels know that my unit would head in that direction?

It could have made sense if routine patrols discovered them. However, the three sniper teams and over two hundred enemies armed with mortars indicated that they had known and were waiting.

In the chain of command, Kang Chan was at the very bottom. He was in a position where it would be difficult to dig into the line that planned and directed this operation.

“Hoo.”

Kang Chan exhaled smoke as he glanced over at Sharlan’s tent.

There was no way that Sharlan wasn’t aware of Kang Chan’s suspicions. If he was keeping his mouth shut, then he could be sharing the same doubts about the command line.

Based on the operation alone, then even if it wasn’t Kang Chan, someone would have been assigned to that area. Still, there was no doubt that a traitor in the command chain had informed the enemy of the 11th unit’s movements and personnel.

He lost four of his men because of that.

Kang Chan exhaled a long stream of smoke. As he tossed his finished cigarette into a can, Éiric approached him.

Clang. Clang.

“Captain, it’s about Bricks, the new recruit. He just came back from the Sharlan’s tent.”

Éiric also seemed to have picked up on something as well, his eyes alert to Sharlan’s actions.

“Don’t waste your energy on it,” Kang Chan advised.

Seemingly having made up his mind to speak up, Éiric replied, “I know your style, Captain. But even if it’s not about Bricks, I think we should be cautious with Smithen. Isn’t it strange how he always stops any attempts to send him elsewhere?”

After a brief pause, he added, “Bricks seems to be filling in for Smithen while he’s not around. Please, Captain, as your nickname becomes more famous across the Foreign Legion, more will become envious of you.”

“That’s enough,” Kang Chan cut him off.

“Oui,” Éiric responded, his expression still tense as he pulled out a cigarette.

“Éiric.”

Éiric, who had just lit his cigarette, quickly turned his attention back to Kang Chan.

“You can’t fight the enemy properly if you’re doubting your comrades. And don’t go walking around with a sharp gaze for no reason. Think of Smithen’s presence as a bit of leeway.”

After a brief pause, Éiric smiled. “Understood.”

Just as Éiric had smoked half his cigarette, Bricks walked over with a cup of coffee.

“Where did you serve before you came here?” Kang Chan asked.

“I was attending university, sir.”

Crazy bastard. What the hell is someone like him doing in a place like this?

Kang Chan shot a glance at him, while Éiric openly gave him a look that said, ‘Are you a fucking idiot?’

“I couldn’t forget what I witnessed while volunteering in Africa. Then I remembered the stories that the tribesmen told about you, Captain,” Bricks explained.

Kang Chan felt that chill again, like a plucked chicken thrown into a fridge. At times like these, it was best to just drink coffee and pretend not to notice.

‘He has no experience in serving after all!’

Another day passed with Kang Chan downing bitter coffee.

***

With his wounds a bit more healed, he resumed his early morning runs around the base. He had to maintain his strength. Here in Africa, laziness could get anyone killed.

After a good run, Kang Chan noticed the sun peeking over the horizon on the other side of the river. Heading back to the barracks, he spat out the sweat that had run into his mouth.

Rattle.

Bricks was there, waiting. He was spinning a bottle cap through his fingers as he watched Kang Chan.

“What is it?” Kang Chan asked.

“I did well, didn’t I?”

Other recruits wouldn’t tag along like this, but if they did, Kang Chan would have cursed them out. However, Bricks had such an innocent look in his eyes that Kang Chan couldn't bring himself to do it.

If he were my younger brother, I would have beaten him senseless, shoved a book in his hand, and made him sit at a desk. That’s exactly the kind of guy he looked like.

Kang Chan accepted the water bottle that Bricks handed him and drank about half of it.

This guy has to be sent away.

Bricks needed a position that suited his temperament better than the 11th unit.

“Bricks.”

“Oui.”

“You mentioned you did volunteer work, right?”

“Yes, sir. I was in South Africa, Congo, and Gabon.”

The conversation paused as Kang Chan poured water over his head.

“Phew! What do you think about being transferred to a peacekeeping mission in one of those regions?”

Kang Chan glanced over, finding Bricks shaking his head.

Kang Chan continued, “Even those with the right temperament find it hard to endure here. Stabbing someone with a knife isn’t as simple as it sounds. Do you understand that?”

“I’m prepared for it,” Bricks responded firmly.

Bullshit!

Kang Chan sighed deeply. At the end of the day, though, this man had passed through two training camps. Kang Chan roughly wiped off the water, lit a cigarette, and took a drag.

“Hoo.”

Clang. Clang.

What the hell is that fucker up to again this morning?

Ever since the new recruits arrived, the usual peace after his morning exercise had vanished.

“Can I join you for breakfast?” Gérard asked with a firm stance.

“I’ll be eating with Daye. If you’re okay with that, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t care about that blockhead.”

"Blockhead? Does he mean Daye?"

Seeing Kang Chan’s expression, Gérard quickly added, “A guy who still hasn’t learned to speak French. How smart could he be?”

Kang Chan chuckled, tossing his cigarette into the can as he got up to move. After his shower, he returned to the table only to find the soldiers in a tense atmosphere. Bricks sat across from Kang Chan, while Daye and Gérard faced each other with looks that suggested they were ready to stab each other with their forks.

Kang Chan shook his head as he sat down. The food from the can was always the same. Alongside it, there were the relatively fresh items like bread, butter, and eggs—which were either fried, scrambled, or omelet.

Kang Chan took a piece of bread as he sat at the table. He had never turned away anyone who wanted to join the table, but for some reason, he was now thinking that it was about time to start.

“Isn’t it dangerous to go into battle with someone who can’t even speak?” Gérard asked as he spread butter on his bread, flinching slightly as he glanced at Kang Chan.

Kang Chan’s sharp gaze was glowing with intensity.

“Don’t badmouth another soldier’s weaknesses in front of me. We’re not in France; we’re in the Foreign Legion.”

Daye and Bricks shifted their eyes between Kang Chan and Gérard.

“A joke is fine once. But if you seriously think that way about someone who’ll have your back in battle, then you’re not fit to go into combat.”

Men of different languages, mindsets, and perspectives lived as one in the 11th unit. If Gérard insisted on flaunting his French pride, there would be no easy solution. This was likely why the Foreign Legion was hesitant to accept Frenchmen as common soldiers.

“That wasn’t my intention. He just annoyed me the moment I arrived,” Gérard explained. Bricks only listened and tried to understand the situation.

If only it had ended there, things would have been fine.

Daye shot Gérard a glance. “What?”

The tension returned, ruining the peaceful atmosphere.

***

Three more days passed quickly. With Daye still nursing his back injury, the ten remaining soldiers split into two groups for exercises, followed by two search drills in the afternoon. These drills were crucial, considering they had to guard Éiric and Mezani when they were out on solo reconnaissance.

Special forces teams always undertook dangerous missions where they could lose their lives at any moment. Hence, the first few training sessions with recruits also served as a way for everyone to accept who they would be fighting alongside in life-or-death operations.

“Légion Étrangère![1]”

“Legio Patria Nostra! [2]”

Before and after training, Kang Chan would shout,“Foreign Legion!”

“The Legion is our country!” the soldiers would respond.

These men, burdened with unbearable loneliness and indelible scars, would always share this war cry as they stood facing each other. When facing all odds with only rifles and bayonets, they found solace in these shouts. It was as if they were offering each other a form of comfort.

Two more days passed, and Sharlan called for Kang Chan.

“I’ve got a mission for your unit,” said Sharlan.

He pushed two maps across the table toward Kang Chan.

“You are to secure a runway in a conflict zone in Congo. This will allow two Foreign Legion companies to be deployed.”

Kang Chan locked eyes with Sharlan, who shook his head.

“Smithen still won’t be joining you,” he said.

“This mission requires twelve men, sir,” Kang Chan said.

“It doesn’t seem like that difficult of a mission, does it?”

“This concerns the safety of the soldiers. If the team isn’t complete, I won’t participate in this operation.”

Sharlan’s eyes twitched, but Kang Chan didn’t back down.

“Come on, Unit Leader. Let’s be reasonable.”

A brief silence followed before Sharlan continued, “I’ve tolerated your soldiers calling you ‘Captain’ in front of me. I’ve allowed you to keep a soldier who doesn’t even speak the language and bring in a rebellious Frenchman. I even granted your request to assign a separate headquarters in Kilima.”

Somehow, Sharlan sounded different than usual.

“You should consider that other special forces teams are starting to look at your unit with discontent.”

“Then you can let them handle this mission.”

“Unit Leader.”

“Oui.”

Sharlan’s glare didn’t intimidate Kang Chan in the slightest.

“You will depart tomorrow at zero-nine-hundred.”

“We need twelve men, sir.”

The look of a man whose pride had been wounded could be terrifying. However, nothing was worse than returning with fewer men than he had set out with. With a slight lift of his chin, Sharlan signaled for Kang Chan to leave.

Kang Chan had clearly delivered his message. If Sharlan insisted on setting out with eleven men, he was ready to refuse the mission even if it meant doing so tomorrow morning. Without a word, he stood up.

Clang. Clang.

“Éiric! Mezani! The mission begins at nine tomorrow morning!” Kang Chan called out as he passed by the soldiers’ barracks, announcing the mission’s start time as he usually did.

That was it—the men would spend the rest of the day checking their weapons and preparing themselves mentally. It was that simple.

Kang Chan sat down at the table in front of the barracks. From Sharlan’s perspective as a commander, it was probably just another operation. Nevertheless, Kang Chan preferred to find any excuse to avoid this mission. He had already noticed the relationship between Smithen and Sharlan.

If Smithen wasn’t such a notorious womanizer, one would have suspected that the two were in love.

Now he expects me to go on a mission without the fucker?

Kang Chan chuckled as he lit a cigarette. He didn’t care if they sent another soldier to replace Smithen. It didn’t matter if they had to be deployed with Smithen, whom Sharlan cherished, or some other soldier who wouldn’t blab to Sharlan.

All that mattered was that they set out with twelve men—not eleven—for the special missions that Kang Chan’s unit was tasked with, especially if the target location was in Congo.

1. ”Foreign Legion!” in English ☜

2. “The Legion is our country!” in English ☜