Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 149

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“Shamua, gather the warriors to the rear of tent 13 with the loudspeaker.”

“Kidili, you goddamn b*stard, get to your bombing point! Get all the mortars working.”

“Shoot all the camels!”

Abbas, who had pulled out his shamshir, began to roar at the company and platoon commanders. The officers ran like crazy to deliver the orders to their units.

“That, those b*stards!”

Abbas’ rage reached his head. The soldiers began to shove gunpowder number six into the 82 mm cartridge case. Since grenades were flying over, the attackers’ hiding place had to be within one kilometer.

Even if they altered the shell degree with charge number one, the range was out of reach. If the soldiers used charge number six, the shell could travel at least eight kilometers with an altered degree.

“You mindless idiot, why don’t you exchange the shells with gunpowder, hm?”

Abbas glared at the mortar conducting operator as though wishing he was dead.

They were professionals under the guise of professionalism. Eight of their mortars had broken from the grenade, which had landed, leaving only four. Those who couldn’t operate such a few were worth dying.

The officer who noticed Abbas’ intentions ran forth to kick the gunner’s rear. The mortar operator regained his senses and punched the back of a blank soldier’s head to change the gunpowder.

With the commander as lead, the soldiers regained their calm. It had been five minutes since the attack started, that the Abbas army began their counterattack and launched the first shell.

The machine-gunners jumped into their camp and grabbed the machine guns while the mortar launchers lagged. They were fast and brave but at the same time, stupid.

Their heads were sniped at without fail, and holes were left in their chest. The machine-gunners leaped out of their trench in gear. The fast and accurate sniping gave them more fear and confusion than the explosions. The north-eastern FROLINAT command post was receiving unspeakable damages by a single person’s attack.

“Lackey, stop zoning out!”

“Ah, what the hell!”

Sun WooHyun was lost and startled by Black Mamba’s attacks. With his head back in the game, Sun WooHyun began to pour in bullets.


The clear sound of Minimi bullets filled the air. Minimi bullets poured all over the place where the soldiers were gathered.

Most of the soldiers separated like ants in the rain, but there were a few that ran forward in bravery. They, in turn, became sacrifices to the Minimi.

Sun WooHyun was also a talented killer. He maintained the effectiveness of Black Mamba’s sniping with an oppressive fire. When the Minimi pushed back the guerrillas, the Dragunov ended their lives. It was a North-South Korea collaboration occurring in the middle of the Sahel.

Black Mamba didn’t spare anyone. Instead, he rushed.

He sniped regardless of whether the bullet landed on their heads or body, which was unlike his usual. His comrades could retreat only when the camp was destroyed. The plan was to disarm them as quickly as possible.



Finally, a countering bullet from the command post sparked fire against the concealing rock.

“Tha…that!” Sun WooHyun shouted at the unexpected movement.

In a flash, Black Mamba had moved 10 meters away. He had changed his sniping position in an instant.

It was the movement he had seen in Tanga. He had moved in flashes, like that, as he destroyed the Tubu clan. Those were martial movements, which moved softer than a ballerina’s toe kick, slid across the surface without preface, and jumped like a dragonfly leaving a leaf.

Those movements were the reason why he’d endured the humiliation of getting caught, even after catching Black Mamba’s shadow twice, perfectly.

“That’s one of the mystical movements made in martial arts novels. I’ll learn it no matter what.”

He became determined to learn, even if he had to wipe Black Mamba’s s***.

Unfortunately, Sun WooHyun didn’t know that the fearless steps were an impossible skill with just human muscles. The immense pressure on the ankles and calves would be damaging. It was an ability only Black Mamba was capable of.


Sun WooHyun, whose gaze had been fixed on the fearless steps, ducked down.



Shells landed 40 meters in front of him. Splinters showered down his hiding place.

The landing spot closed in threateningly. It was the sound of Abbas’ army getting ready to heat the weapons.

“It’s fortunate Wakil broke the 85 mm.”

If it had been the 85 mm high explosives grenade, he would have been hurt.


Black Mamba’s grenade shot up in a parabola. It was a curve throw. The grenade turned into a black dot and disappeared.

The grenade that traveled 450 meters landed on the 82 mm field artillery concealed behind the enemy. The gunner, loader, ammunition carrier, and observer were swept into the explosion and turned into bouncing fish meats.

To put it simply, he was sniping field artillery camps. Figuring out the launching point with his dimensional sight, Black Mamba began to silence the mortars with his grenades.

“Amazing, you’re amazing!” Sun WooHyun shouted, unable to hold back his excitement.

That was a battle he’d never imagined. It was like a one-man army. Black Mamba wasn’t human but a natural disaster.

Abbas wasn’t an idiot.

Realizing there weren’t as many attackers, he gathered his soldiers and launched mortar and RPG attacks to what he presumed was the enemy’s hiding spot. It was like a raccoon herding.

The intervals between Black Mamba’s explosions grew longer. The guerrillas began to hide their bodies after realizing the sniper’s presence. Magazines began to run low.

When the intervals grew longer, Abbas left two units in the command post and made the rest advance.

“Servants of Allah, attack! Attack!” The loudspeaker rang.


“Allah, Allah!”

“God, punish the Kanma!”

When the sniping began to decrease, the guerrillas in hiding attacked as one.

Although they had suffered monstrous damage from the continuous grenade attacks and sniping, many survived. Over 200 in number began to attack at once.

“Ha, who are they?”

“There are still some groups left.”

Black Mamba and Sun WooHyun freaked out.

They shot until their Dragunov and Minimi heated up, but that wasn’t enough to stop their advance.

“Have they gone mad?”

“They could be drugged. Have you heard about jenkem?”

“I had heard about it from Bell Man last time. I heard they’re fermented from feces and urine.”

“Well, they’re dirty b*stards, eh?”

Bullets poured like the rain in Fall.

“Forget it. Let’s run.”

The two gathered their weapons and ran without looking back.

“Lackey, you figure out whether to flee or hide,” Black Mamba shouted as he ran ahead.

Sun WooHyun gritted his teeth at the irresponsible words, but there wasn’t even time to get mad. Mortar shells began to pour down. They were artillerymen Black Mamba hadn’t sensed.


It was the sound of a falling shell. Sun WooHyun threw his body at the sound of a whistle. Unfortunately, he landed on thorn bushes. Sharp thorns pierced his arms and legs inconsiderately. There wasn’t time to complain. He shook his belly off the ground and crouched.

A mortar shell’s travel speed was within 120 meters per second. That meant that the shell would land two seconds after the sound.


“Damn those f****** b*stards, it’s a dog fight.”

The shell landed 100 meters away from his position, rather meaninglessly. Sun WooHyun swore at the thorns all over his body.

Mortar shells kept flying, but it was randomly aimed.

Sun WooHyun searched for Black Mamba after regaining his senses, but there wasn’t a trace.

“What kinda human moves like lightning?”

He ran to the beat without leaving any time to pull out the thorns. They had arranged the boma into beats after getting rid of the guerrillas’ ambush squad. It was an obvious reaction as someone who’d been on the scouting unit. It was a profession that required a hiding place to increase the chances of survival.

Sun WooHyun arrived at the place where they’d set up the claymores and gathered the switches before hiding. Something black whisked past him as he fiddled with the switch.

“Lackey, press after three seconds.”

Guerrillas filled his sight. They were soldiers Black Mamba had lured over.

“What…what kinda human are you?” he exclaimed.

Black Mamba was truly someone made for battle.

Sun WooHyun lured the enemies 50 meters in before pressing the switch. He ran forward to the two-toned explosions.

Black Mamba watched the scene of 20 or so lured soldiers, being ripped apart by steel bearings with cold eyes. He had moved with the hit-and-run tactic in mind from the beginning.

Bullets didn’t discriminate against humans. There was no choice but to die, even if it was a stray bullet. There were no heirs he’d instructed to set his funeral, so he wouldn’t be able to eat in the afterlife.

There were too many enemies. It didn’t look like the 360 he’d been informed, but over 500. That or the lackey’s Arabic was bad.

He had no choice but to use the Vietnamese guerrilla tactic with the advantage of his physical abilities. There were enough bullets. There were ten Pamus magazines, making it a total of 300 rounds. As long as he didn’t shoot warning shots, he could use one against one. Thick red light rose in Black Mamba’s eyes.

An eagle-eyed view of Dombrey forest revealed yellow spots, not green, which made it look like bleached hair. The thorn trees and capensis, which were weak to droughts, lost its green after death.

The battle conditions were advantageous for Black Mamba.

There was no need for him to become one with nature, either. His yellow uniform made it hard to discern him amongst the dead trees, even with God’s sight.

He was very wary of field artillery and tank fire. The shell of mortars couldn’t compare to field artillery or tank fires. A tank was constructed to fire armed shells to pierce the enemy’s tank. The energy of a tank shell came from kinetic energy. T-34 was an antique, but its shell traveled over 800 meters per second.

Even when using hit shells, the speed reached 600 meters per second. Mortars were 5 to 7 times faster, which meant it had a horrendous speed. Not even Black Mamba was able to avoid a mortar’s shell after its launch.

With its fast speed, a field shell also brought about great damage. In the case of T-34, they had to change gun barrels every 20 rounds. It was one of the weaknesses of field artillery.


A short and strong explosion could be heard from the field artillery.

Black Mamba didn’t move from his hiding place. He could tell whether it was an aimed shot or not with his dimensional sight.


The shell landed on a rock over 100 meters away.

“Funny guys. What are they trying to do with armor-piercing shells?”

Black Mamba scoffed. Armor-piercing shells were made to pierce. It had to be used against the enemy’s tank, or to break through an obstacle. In order to kill a person, they had to use HE shells. If they weren’t able to think of other methods, it meant that the soldiers were still in confusion.

Black Mamba couldn’t have known that the veteran field artillerymen had died, causing newbies who couldn’t differentiate between armor-piercing shells and high explosive grenades to load shells randomly.

Black Mamba began to decrease the number of FROLINAT soldiers with the burden of field artillery and mortars on his back, using the hit-and-run tactic.

The deathmatch between Goliath and David began. Dombrey forest that was located on the border of Bata province, slowly dyed in the color of blood.




One group of guerrillas fell to the ground at the double-tap sniping. The attacker disappeared with a whisk, and bullets poured into the empty place.

FROLINAT soldiers moved in 10s and fives, without exception. Their military ran by attaching officers to each group of fours and nines.

None of the five guerrillas were able to recognize Black Mamba who was attached to an acacia tree like a lizard.

Pa pa pa—

Sonic booms rang. The five who had bullets to their heads fell at once.

Black Mamba, who was hiding his body like a ghost ant, took care of his sacrifices and slid back into the forest like a snake. A grim reaper approached the guerrillas who were hiding behind a gosa tree. With a crack, necks were twisted.

Bang bang bang—

The guerrillas, who had their foreheads drilled with a Glock’s three-tap, swayed like dancers before falling to the ground.

The rock that Black Mamba had kicked landed on the last guerrilla, who aimed his gun, as he showed resistance for the last time.


At least, he died with a sound of protest.

“It’s the Kanma!”

“Over there!”

Bullets poured like rain. The sound of rustling footsteps grew louder.

“Here’s a present!”
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