God of Blackfield

Preface

Hello, it’s Mujang.

As I serially published the ‘God of Blackfield,’ Kang Chan’s life as a mercenary was like a sad fantasy to me.

I hesitated a lot before publishing these three volumes.

I was always afraid of whether I was overdoing it with my inadequate writing skills and depending too much on the undeserved support that you, the readers, gave me.

However, thanks to your support, this inadequate writer managed to muster up the courage to write ‘God of Blackfield - The Beginning.’

During the publication process, I saw Director Kwon Yong-Hee from the Maru Publishing Company suffer.

I saw Director Kwon Yong-Hee's passion for publishing this novel in every illustration released, book cover chosen, and proofreading phase done. We initially only planned to have the general proofreading, my proofreading, and then another novel-wide proofreading. However, he added another round of proofreading after the hard copy had been released, which showed me how much he truly cared for it.

I was worried because publishing these three volumes was deemed impractical, but Director Kwon Yong-Hee’s comment convinced me otherwise.

He said, “I want to give our best to our readers.”

I would like to thank you, the readers, once more. I only managed to come this far due to the endless support you have given my inadequate novel and the countless words of encouragement I constantly received despite my incompetent writing.

I’ll continue to work hard as a writer, and I won’t stop until I’m able to write a novel that can wholly handle the title ‘author’ someday. I believe my endeavors are the best sincerity and the best way to express my gratitude to you, the readers.

I pray that your families and everything that you do will always be filled with luck and happiness.

Sincerely,

Mujang

Brrrr!

The aircraft tilted widely, mercilessly pulling Kang Chan’s back against its walls.

Brrr! Brrr!

Damn it!

The pilot couldn’t have just finished his training, so why was the aircraft shaking so much?

Kang Chan pressed himself back against the body of the aircraft. Three types of soldiers were sitting on both sides of it—scared fuckers, fuckers who pretended they weren’t scared, and the strong-willed fuckers who really had no fear.

The guy that was sitting across from Kang Chan was trying his best to imitate the strong-willed fuckers, but his eyes were already brimming with tears.

Kang Chan smirked.

That’s it; keep glaring and frowning to look tough. I hope all that focus you're putting into your eyes helps improve your eyesight.

Finding it tiresome to even look at the soldier, he looked at the end of the aircraft instead.

As an Asian with a slim figure and a youthful appearance despite his military uniform and cap, he definitely stood out among these men who had killed before and lived a tough military life.

Kang Chan had come to France’s Foreign Legion because he was fed up with his life. Still, he didn’t expect to immediately be given a mission as soon as he finished his training. It felt as if life was saying, ‘You’re fed up with your life? Fine! I’ll kill you!’

Brrrr! Rattle! Rattle!

That son of a bitch! What does a bastard have to do to make a plane shake this roughly?

“Argh!”

An American soldier sitting at the front vomited again, but no one reacted. Even the guy sitting next to him only moved his foot slightly to avoid being vomited on.

Clank.

Kang Chan adjusted his rifle, which he had slung over his right shoulder.

He was so familiar with guns and bayonets that the drill instructor and his fellow soldiers had asked if he was from North Korea.

Brrrr!

Kang Chan tried hard to listen to his breathing.

Haah. Haah.

The first time he found himself in a ferocious battle, he initially thought his opponent had unsheathed his knife as a joke.

The guy rushed at him with murderous eyes only to thrust his knife so slowly that it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. How could Kang Chan take that seriously?

Anyhow, he and his colleague attacked Kang Chan one after the other. After that incident, no one picked a fight with Kang Chan ever again.

He couldn’t believe special forces soldiers would whine just because of a broken arm.

You bastards should go to South Korea. Even high schoolers fight well with chains there, and if their arm breaks, they just stick a pain relief patch on that bitch. They won’t even have trouble lighting up a cigarette and smoking without help.

Kang Chan took out a cigarette from his left pocket and bit on it.

Chk chk!

Cigarettes weren’t sold in schools, so this was something he found really nice about the military—they were able to openly buy cigarettes and zippo lighters.

Kang Chan exhaled the cigarette smoke. "Hooo!"

The leader sharply glared at him, but he couldn’t care less.

“Urgh! Ugh!”

The American soldier vomited even more than before. It could be from the cigarette smoke, but it was more likely due to motion sickness. The damn plane was just shaking too much.

Clank! Brrr!

The aircraft was definitely descending.

Everyone knew that their destination was a brutal battlefield. Almost all of the soldiers who had been deployed to it before them had been killed.

That was why no one could pick a fight against Kang Chan for smoking inside the aircraft.

Life as they knew it could end as soon as they stepped out of this aircraft, even Kang Chan’s brief life, which he had wasted the majority of going to school despite not wanting to attend.

If he was disappointed in anything, it would be that he had come here without getting to eat pork cutlets first.

Did he miss anyone?

Kang Chan smirked.

The fact that the military was overflowing with ammunition and cigarettes—the two things that he had earned in the end—was somewhat comforting.

"Hooo.”

After one last drag, Kang Chan dropped his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it.

***

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

The alarm rang with shining lights to signal that they were about to land. A moment later, the aircraft started to descend as if it were falling to hell.

The landing reminded Kang Chan of the training he had received from Negah[1]. They couldn’t see outside the aircraft, leaving them no choice but to entrust everything to the pilot.

Part of the training in Negah was having their heads covered with a moistened fabric and their hands tied together behind their backs. They would then walk in a single line, holding onto the waist of the person behind them.

The training had started with forty-seven people.

Did people yell at the soldiers, like what Kang Chan had imagined in South Korea? Not at all.

Did people browbeat the soldiers, like what Kang Chan had seen in the documentaries about the American military? He actually would have felt more comfortable if they had done that.

Unfortunately, all they did was eliminate the wounded. Until then, they only watched even if the soldiers fought amongst themselves.

During that sleepless two-day march, five or six soldiers gave up, and a dozen soldiers were disqualified.

At the very least, though, those men left the training alive.

One soldier was bitten by a harmful insect during their ambush training, and two soldiers died in the last thirty-kilometer stretch of their march in the jungle.

As part of their training, those who trained them placed a wet sack over their heads and tightly tied it around their necks. The soldiers had to walk along a stream afraid and breathing heavily, holding onto the waist of not the soldier in front of them but the one behind.

If the man at the front fell because they stepped on a rotten tree or the soldier at the back accidentally stepped on a rock and fell, the others would fall one after another.

Soldiers who broke their wrists, fingers, and ankles were disqualified.

Kang Chan was spiteful. He chose this path because his life was hell. He didn’t come to the Foreign Legion because he wanted to suffer.

Gritting his teeth, he endured each day of the training with men over five years older than him.

Kang Chan even thought that the excruciatingly tiresome physical pain was actually better than the psychological pain.

Brrrrrr!

The aircraft roughly touched the ground.

Drrrrr. Drrrrrrr!

Then, it started to roughly decelerate on the runway.

BRRRR!

The engine noises made Kang Chan think that it would explode at any moment.

As the tires screeched on the ground, they heard weapons, magazines, and other equipment in the aircraft clanking around.

Swoosh!

Eventually, the aircraft began to turn and stop. The back door then opened.

“Go!” the squad leader yelled.

From the moment he had enlisted, the damned Foreign Legion had been exceeding Kang Chan’s imagination. That hadn’t changed even though he had completed his training.

The instructor placed the Foreign Legion pin on their left chest, then punched them in the same area to firmly attach it to their military uniform.

Kang Chan liked that there wasn’t a fancy ceremony. Still, wouldn’t it have been better to give out the badges in style?

Clank. Clank.

Today, a total of seventeen people flew to Ndulele from Negah.

Kang Chan was the fourth person to get out of the aircraft.

As they basked in the sun, which looked as if it didn’t want to move, a putrid scent and a cloud of dust rushed toward them.

“These rookies won’t fucking cut it!”

One of the first things Kang Chan noticed in Ndulele was a man yelling roughly.

He didn’t know where the man had left the top of his military uniform, but he was only wearing a gray cotton shirt. The guy turned his head to look at them.

Upon seeing Kang Chan, he yelled, “God fucking damn it! Who the hell is this dipshit?!!”

Kang Chan smirked. It couldn’t be the man’s first time seeing a Foreign Legion soldier.

Staring at Kang Chan, the man cocked his head before looking away.

“Our enemies are nothing like the rebel forces! We won’t be able to guarantee the outcome even if the entire 13th regiment comes. Why in the hell would you send greenhorns as reinforcements?!”

Amid all the shouting, the soldiers sluggishly disembarked and looked around their surroundings.

The base only had five tents for barracks and another that was clearly the operations center. They couldn’t see anything on the horizon, so while it would be a great place to stand guard, there wasn’t anything they could use to hide from enemies or the sun.

Eventually, their squad leader stepped out of the aircraft.

“Stop yelling. Assign these men to their quarters first,” he said.

In response, the man who had been yelling suddenly turned his head again before saying, “They can stay at those two barracks over there! All of them are empty anyway!”

Kang Chan only had to understand the important words in a foreign language in order to communicate with others. Roughly understanding what the man had said, he headed to the barracks in front of him.

Flutter!

When they drew back the drapes, the darkness and the heat that had been trapped inside rushed toward them.

Kang Chan lit another cigarette and exhaled the smoke. “Hoooo.”

He didn’t know what was going to happen or what kind of life he was going to live, but he had already come all the way here.

For the first time in his life, he had accomplished a goal of his. Oddly enough, though, it reminded him of his life in South Korea.

Thud!

Kang Chan threw his bag onto the cot at the very front. He then swung his rifle to his back and left the barracks.

It was about 4 pm.

The sky looked like the color blue had faded out of it, the clouds looked thin and weak as if they had been dried out by the sun moving past them.

“Ndulele, huh?” Kang Chan muttered to himself.

He took out a cigarette and bit on it. He then lit it with a lighter, almost burning his face in the process.

Damn it!

“Hoooo.”

The cigarette smoke overpowered the smell of Africa, but it still circled Kang Chan’s surroundings, waiting for an opportunity to rush toward him.

What are those idiots doing inside? It's hot as hell in there.

Kang Chan, who had been glancing at the barracks, was about to take another drag when he heard someone speak.

“Got a stick?”

A man with a bushy beard and curved nose approached Kang Chan and stood next to him. He was the one yelling just a few minutes ago.

People stingy even when it came to cigarettes couldn’t accomplish big things. Hence, Kang Chan took out a cigarette and handed it to him. He also held out the cigarette that he had been smoking.

The man before him seemed to be an important figure. If Kang Chan incorrectly lit up the lighter and burned the guy's face after having just made his acquaintance, the man could make his life extremely difficult.

“I’m Enzo, the platoon leader of this place,” Enzo spat out as he put the cigarette in between his lips. He then took out a lighter from his pocket.

Clank! Chkk!

Huh? Why didn’t his lighter go wild?

“Hooo. We’re leaving tomorrow. Don’t ask questions and just follow me.”

How nice would it be if they just talked about things like this? Everyone would be able to understand what people were saying.

Enzo looked at Kang Chan with a look that seemed to say he wanted something.

“My name is Kang Chan, sir.”

“Have you slept with a woman before?” Enzo asked.

Kang Chan had heard this kind of question about a hundred times in the training ground.

“What do you think, sir?” Kang Chan asked back.

“Where did you learn French? Did you go to school here?”

“It was easy.”

“You must’ve not studied before. Those that didn’t study are quick at learning new things since their heads are empty; they got room to fill.”

Kang Chan only understood about half of what Enzo had said.

Smirking, Kang Chan bit on a new cigarette. He also took out a lighter but quickly returned it to his pocket. Instead, he lit up his new cigarette using the embers from the cigarette that he had been smoking.

“Pour a little oil in your lighter; it’s in the barrel beyond that barrack over there. If you don’t do that, your lighter pouch will fill up with gas, explode, and burn you. It can even kill you during an operation,” Enzo advised, extending his fingers to emphasize his words. Afterward, he said, “Give me another one.”

Kang Chan silently handed Enzo another cigarette.

“This operation smells fishy. It makes me feel like we’re just some useless pieces in a janggi board[2]. Let me ask you this. What’s the most important thing during a battle?”

What’s he saying?

Kang Chan looked at Enzo, who was staring at the horizon in the far distance.

“Hooo. Doing your best to survive should be your priority. I’m telling you this because your eyes looked the most spiteful out of everyone who got out of the aircraft today. Those who relax on the aircraft won’t make it out of here alive.”

Enzo turned his head and looked straight at Kang Chan.

“What was your name again?”

“It’s Kang Chan, sir.”

“What’s the most important thing in a battle?”

You should’ve talked slowly if you wanted me to understand what you’re saying.

Kang Chan smirked. This was the best response to things he only roughly understood.

He didn’t know why Enzo was doing this, but Enzo smiled the same way before staring at the horizon again.

“People are dying at that damned horizon even as we speak. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Reinforcements? The new recruits who come to Ndulele die in roughly forty-eight hours, so do your best to survive.”

“Forty-eight hours?”

Enzo gave Kang Chan a strange smirk. “Those who live past that die within seventy-two.”

“What?”

Enzo deeply exhaled cigarette smoke instead of answering.

“The battle tomorrow will teach you why sunsets in Africa are blood red. We might just be pieces on a chessboard, but our blood is still red.”

Enzo briefly shook his head when he saw Kang Chan smirking. “Why did you swing your gun to your back?”

Kang Chan immediately understood. After all, he had heard the same question multiple times back in the training center.

“This just feels comfortable.”

“I see!” Enzo exclaimed. He then headed back to the operations center.

***

Kang Chan had canned food and bread for dinner.

Perhaps it was because Enzo thought the soldiers were all going to die anyway, but he didn’t tell them what to do. It just felt like he was leaving them alone and letting them fend for themselves.

When night fell, Kang Chan’s colleagues fell asleep one after another. Enzo didn’t even designate armed guards for the night.

Kang Chan sat up from his cot and headed to the operations center. Its sides were rolled up, making the interior visible from all sides.

“Keugh! Urrgh!”

Amid the moonlight that was bright enough to create shadows and the musty and unpleasant odor, he heard cries he couldn’t quite identify.

Nights in Africa felt uncomfortable. It was as if he was a cloud that was being dragged away after getting tangled up with the others.

It didn’t feel right to smoke a cigarette.

Seeing how Enzo didn’t designate armed guards, Kang Chan figured that nothing unusual was going to happen. However, there was no need to show their lights to an enemy that could be approaching them.

Kang Chan smirked. He looked at the endless black ground.

He was lonely. The most prominent emotion he was feeling right now was loneliness.

Isn’t there a monkey that’s following Tarzan around here somewhere? Damn it! How is this Africa?!

Maybe a lion, cheetah, or an elephant wouldn't make sense. Still, a few animals, like a zebra or a hyena, should have gone past their camp by now.

Kang Chan thought that those animals would be common in Africa, yet he hadn’t seen any of them, let alone their carcasses.

Kang Chan didn’t know what kind of day tomorrow would be.

Enzo made it clear that many new recruits die in forty-eight hours. Since arriving in Ndulele, we’ve survived for nine hours. That means we only have to survive for another…? Damn it! This is giving me a headache.

Death?

Kang Chan had no idea what that was like—he would’ve been able to guess if he actually knew someone who had died during training or even from old age.

Smirking, Kang Chan looked at the moon that was high in the sky.

You son of a bitch!

It was fucking bright for no reason, which kept reminding Kang Chan of South Korea.

1. we believe that this is a country that the author made up ☜

2. Janggi, sometimes called Korean chess, is a strategy board game ☜