Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 235
“Let’s see this through. I’ll give you after-sales service.”
Black Mamba smiled coldly. He was planning to tear apart their reinforcement fire weapons with his grenades.
“Bansiri is someone who claims to be from Aloadin’s main line of descent. He is tenacious and poisonous to the point that no one likes him. The guy is the training major general and the security personnel general.”
“Yeah? Poisonous b*stards only lower their heads after being thoroughly beaten up. Jamal, pull the grenade pins and throw them to me.”
“Hm!” Jamal stifled his exclamation.
What had he said? He’d never ordered something like that before.
“I don’t have three hands.”
Jamal understood immediately. Jamal was someone who’d witnessed Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa throwing grenades like they were machine guns. He pulled on the pins without rest and threw them. The rest was something that Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa would figure out.
Black Mamba didn’t even look as he grabbed the grenades that Jamal threw.
The grenades lined up like prayer beads and flew towards Ruman. An automatic grenade launcher couldn’t have moved at such speed. The grenades, which traveled around 300 meters to 500 meters, were sucked into the sea of fire.
It was like fanning a burning house. The buildings broke apart after they were initially hit by the C-4s, and the terrorists who were suppressing the flames flew into the air. Ruman, whose flames had subsided, was met with misfortune once more.
The ANO, who had been planning their attack formation, were hit by lightning in broad daylight. Stupid people had their limbs torn apart, while smart people scattered like tiny ants looking for cover. An ironic scene played out where the bomb terrorist specialists, ANO, were being terrorized by bombs.
“Agh! What is this?” Bansiri shouted as he was searching for the sniping point.
“It’s an automatic grenade launcher! Scatter, scatter! Find cover! Counterattack!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Ugh! You b*stard of a devil—no, you devil!”
Bansiri’s teeth chattered at his hopelessness. His subordinates, who had been planning an advance, were torn apart. Most of the fire support and snipers who’d been stationed near the obstacles were wiped out. He could vaguely see some of his subordinates thrown into the air. That wasn’t reality but a nightmare.
He could go mad searching for the attackers’ identity. There wasn’t an organization with such overpowering attack skills in the whole world. What kind of b*stard in this world would shoot with an automatic grenade launcher?! Those were devils that the heathens’ god had sent to wipe out Allah’s warriors. He was boiling with anger.
“Jarkawi, reassemble the advanced unit once more. If we fail to catch those b*stards, I’ll practice Wahhabism and not Sufism.”
Bansiri’s eyes turned bright red. He couldn’t think of anything else other than tearing the skin off those b*stards and grinding their bones.
The sound of RPG and rifle shots stopped. In 25 seconds, he had thrown 50 grenades, a hail of them. The sight of Ruman in chaos came into his view.
“That’s why you shouldn’t cause too much of a scene. Why would a tiny b*stard start a small protest?”
Black Mamba shoved the rest of his grenades into his bag. He only had four C-4s left. With targets remaining, he planned to reinforce the explosions with the leftover grenades.
“Hhhh, it’s stiff.”
Black Mamba whirled his arm around. His body, which hadn’t known tiredness, complained about being overworked. He’d started from Gobelaka in the early evening. It was currently 3:50 in the morning, and he’d been moving for eight hours without rest. He’d been battling for 70 minutes, since 2:40 in the morning. Even if he wanted to go get some water from a mountain, he’d have to take a break so that his muscles could regain their strength.
The sun rose at 6:19, which meant that dawn would appear in an hour. There wasn’t enough time. He didn’t know how the situation would change when daylight arrived.
He got into the lotus position, calmed his breathing, and controlled his mind.
The air swirled as it entered his body. His cells, which had been inactive, became active once more.
He stretched out his limbs and laid down. His mental fatigue was worse than his physical fatigue. He desperately wanted a cigarette. He didn’t smoke often, but he wanted a cigarette every time he was tired.
The moon, which had been hiding behind the clouds, revealed its face once more. A vast, empty sight that couldn’t be seen anywhere in Korea was revealed. Wol Song San was a mountain that had a mother-like warmth. It had a thick forest, and clear water flowed down its rivers. Bellflowers and grass grew everywhere, while crimson glory vines and hard kiwis turned ripe in autumn.
The mountains there looked empty. There were almost no trees, and the entire mountain was made of rocks. There were a few shrubs and weeds on the colorful side of the rocky surface.
He could picture every grass field on Wol Song San and every strand of wild chrysanthemum on the lower fields. The country he loved but couldn’t love, and the country he missed when away but hated when he returned. Jamal interrupted his reminiscing.
“Ugh!” Jamal shouted.
At the same time, a dart flew from Black Mamba’s hands. The dart skewered the b*stard that had shoved its poisonous tail into Jamal’s ankle. The skewered b*stard kicked up a protest. The scorpion, which was around three inches long, had a yellow body with a black back and tail.
“Omdruman!” Jamal’s dark face turned pale.
The twisting scorpion was torn apart by an angry foot.
Black Mamba felt tense too. Deathstalkers were poisonous scorpions that lived in Africa’s northern and central regions. They had the strongest poison among scorpions. It was a poisonous b*stard known for killing adults two hours after injecting them with its venom.
“Ughhhh!” Jamal trembled.
His leg, which had taken the scorpion’s poison, was hardening. His muscles vibrated like waves.
“Allah, it is unfair that you’re calling a servant who’s just met his master. This servant will return to Allah’s side, the providence of this world, and the owner of all. Bismillah! Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, I’m sorry that I cannot serve you any longer.”
Jamal was on the brink of death, but it wasn’t such a complicated situation for Black Mamba.
“Ugh, what an annoying servant who makes up all kinds of drama,” Black Mamba complained in Korean as he grabbed Jamal’s ankle.
He activated his inner eye with his inhalation wave. He felt the poison’s aura seeping into Jamal’s blood and bodily fluids. It was invading quickly, like ink spreading in water.
He shook his resonance violently, once. The scorpion’s poison, which produced a shock reaction called anaphylaxis, was extracted.
Discolored blood flowed from his injury. The scorpion’s poison was soon dragged out of his body.
“Agh!” Jamal shouted.
His blood flow had reversed momentarily due to the strong suction. His heart took a huge toll with the reversed blood flow. Unimaginable pain would strike.
“Stop whining. It’s over.”
Black Mamba slapped Jamal’s leg. It stopped seizing, and Jamal’s face regained its original color.
“There’s no way!”
Jamal was surprised. Just when he thought he was about to die, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa had removed the poison. Allah’s apostle had arrived. He was someone who had saved a dying person. Jamal leaped to his feet and raised both of his hands. He immediately bowed five times.
“Oh, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa! An amazing soul has come. One who’s above all, lowly servant Amud Jamal greets your holy presence. Only Allah is above your holy presence. Bismillah!”
“Jamal, I’m a normal human. I just know a few tricks.”
“May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be everlasting. I will know it as such.”
Black Mamba smiled bitterly. He was just like Jadir. He took the scene for what it was and didn’t doubt it. Perhaps, Jamal was just that naive. Their untouched naivety might have turned them into fanatics. Black Mamba’s body had moved slightly out of their hiding place while he treated Jamal.
A wounded animal’s groan left Bansiri’s mouth. That couldn’t be. The attacks were far too accurate. The training centers, which had crumbled in the first round of attacks, were completely ruined. His subordinates’ corpses scattered everywhere, their groans and screams, and the burning debris stabbed at his heart. About 50 to 60 of his subordinates had returned to Allah’s side. Bansiri’s face was similarly drenched in blood.
Jarkawi ran over with an emergency bag. He sprinkled zeolite powder all over his torn cheeks and ears before covering it over with a dry chitosan plaster. It was the best way to stop blood flow. American military stationeries were easy to use and as effective as always.
“Move! I must catch that b*stard.”
Bansiri shoved his subordinate away before digging into the pile of concrete. He shoved his eye onto the scope and used all the senses he could to search the entirety of Kindall B-zone. He was sure that the Barrett could destroy any obstacle in its path as long as he discovered the enemy’s location.
“F*cking heathen, I’ve got you now!” Bansiri screamed.
A round helmet appeared in his scope’s sight. There wasn’t any reason to miss it at 450 meters, and a bulletproof helmet was more like a piece of paper in the aim of his Barrett.
A strong 12.7-millimeter bullet moved out of its barrel at three times the speed of sound. A long trail of smoke followed. The b*stard’s head would be crushed in 0.3 seconds.
The sound of the Barrett was as great as its power. It couldn’t be attached to a silencer, either. Black Mamba immediately ducked down upon detecting the flare of the gun. The bullet, which had streaked past his cheek, pierced the rock behind him.
Pieces of rocks jumped as though they had exploded and attacked his helmet. His head started ringing.
“Ugh!” Black Mamba stumbled.
He instinctively ducked his head down.
“I’ve got him!” Bansiri cheered.
There hadn’t been any blood on his scope, but the b*stard had staggered and fell. He immediately began to shoot rapid-fire. The top part of their rock broke apart at the second and third impacts.
The rocks, which flew around everywhere, knocked on his bulletproof helmet and swept past his neck.
It was sniping that he hadn’t detected. He felt the back of his tingling head with his palm. Blood came off. His heart sank. He would be buried within the year if he wasn’t careful. The sniper was talented, but the rifle’s strength was unfathomable.
Among all the current rifles in use, only the Barrett could create such a powerful attack. He could only tilt his head at the name. Since 1982, the Barrett had only been used by the American army. It wasn’t exported to any foreign country. For a mere terrorist organization to use a weapon that even the French army couldn’t use? It was unbelievable.
“Those damned Yankees!”
Somehow he kept colliding with the Yankees, and in an unfriendly manner too. He felt as though he’d go head to head against them someday.
“Jamal, the rock that’s 30 meters away is the retreating mark. Aller!”
Jamal picked up the bag full of gold. The servant had to manage his owner’s wealth.
“Huh!” Jamal groaned in surprise.
His master had carried and moved the bag like it was nothing. He tried his best, but it didn’t move an inch. A human couldn’t possibly bear 400 kilograms.
How did Black Mamba run with this?
“Oh, you weak b*stard, just take yourself.”
Jamal immediately ran towards the rear at Black Mamba’s order. He moved like a lizard as he crawled on the floor. He acted appropriately for a terrorist with eight years of experience.
Black Mamba immediately took his grenade bag and launched his body to the right. His previous location had already been revealed. It was a location that gave him access to the enemy’s locations, but there was a high probability that Ruman would shoot the entire field around his location.
Bansiri removed the empty magazine and replaced his bullet with a flare bullet. He was planning on sending the concentrated fire to blow away their hiding place.
“Warriors, I’ve got him. Send the rest to Jahannam!”
Red light flew in a row. They used the flare as a guide for throwing shells, RPGs, and recoilless mortars.
At least five shells landed right on the rock that he’d used as cover.
The rock, which had been as tall as a standing car, blew up into pieces. Jamal, who’d escaped to the rear, patted his chest down. His master truly was the god of war. If they’d been a little later, he would have returned to Allah’s side.
Black Mamba, who had teleported 20 meters instantly, sent his body flying once more with the crawling movement. The demon who had been running since dawn slipped on the cracks between rocks that were as slim as needles. He was 50 meters away from his initial hiding place.
“They’re hiding the gold for me.” Black Mamba smirked.
The shattered rocks had completely covered his gold bag. There wasn’t a need to worry about losses anymore.
“Nimi jotto, there’s nothing like a cockroach den.”
Ruman’s attitude had changed. Their sniping accuracy had improved with the aid of reinforced firearms. Like all terrorists, they were more tenacious than a whale’s tendons.
Moreover, 100 or so reinforcements were coming down from the valley. As expected of the Arabs, they didn’t know when to give up despite the destructive loss they’d suffered.
He’d experienced enough of the FROLINAT’s madness where soldiers were high on drugs. These b*stards could have been fed drugs, too.
“I’ll wipe you all out.” He gritted his teeth.
He hadn’t thought of retreating, but the situation didn’t permit it either. They were the kind of b*stards who would hunt him down if he did. By daylight, the Mukhabarat and Syrian Army would cover Kaparja in darkness to aid them.
Grenades were good for suppressing wide areas, but their killing rate was lower compared to sniping. An MP5 couldn’t cover a distance of 320 meters to 800 meters from Ruman at an effective range of 200 meters. He pulled out the Dragunov from his backpack. The assembly time took three seconds.
The ANO just happened to walk out of Ruman in pairs at the time.
“Ooooooh, Allah, Allah!”
“Terminate those heathens!”
They were like crushed pomegranate seeds who kept popping out of the pomegranate, or in this case, Ruman. They were b*stards who poked their heads out to die. Black Mamba raised his Dragunov with a smile.
“You lame b*stards, did you think I was the Explosives Devil? You’re all dead.”
The Dragunov spewed fire. As he fell, the head of the first terrorist exploded all over the place like a watermelon. The second victim’s head exploded before the first one could reach the ground. Grotesque scenes of dark fluid being hurled into the air continued.
 A form of Islamic practice that insists on the literal interpretation of the Quran.
 A form of Islamic mysticism that is characterized by specific values, ritual practices, doctrines, and institutions.