Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 309

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“Ugh, how is that even—”

Sun WooHyun’s mouth hung open. The uneven rock surface was now smooth like it was sanded with a few waves of wakil’s hand. He’d smoothened out the surface with his hand and was currently engraving words like he was writing with a brush. No, he was just writing. He didn’t even make any noise. To engrave words onto a rock, one had to nail it or melt the surface with acid.

Protein-based organic tissues made up a human’s hands. It wasn’t a carving blade made of alloy steel. The rock before him wasn’t some wood but a tombstone. Shoving in a carving blade would only cause it to break.

Am I still under Barungo’s illusion spell?

Sun WooHyun blinked. He looked at the new family members whom wakil had brought along. They didn’t look surprised. Instead, admiration was seen on their faces. It was as though they had found it natural.

Wakil is human yet unlike a human. You can’t become his real family member as long as you view him with your limited knowledge and shallow perspectives.

Those were Ombuti’s words back in the Sahel. Well, when he was little, he had believed that Kim Il Sung caught a boar with pine and crossed the Aprok river on a leaf.

I’ll sound like nothing more than clashing pebbles if I use my head. If wakil says and does so, wakil’s right.

Sun WooHyun shook his head. He’d been brainwashed for too long that he regarded lies as truths. While it was easier to believe things as it was, he had a habit of suspecting everything he saw.

“Live in the moment? What does that mean? Will I be dead or alive then?”

Sun WooHyun looked at Ombuti after reading out the engraved words on the rock a few times.

“Hadritak Ombuti, what does that mean?”

Despite his promise, Sun WooHyun didn’t call Ombuti “brother.” Once the threat passed, his craftiness and overwhelming pride held him back. His tendency to bluff alongside his pride remained unfixed despite having almost lost his life. He called Ombuti “hadritak” instead. Hadritak meant older brother in Korean.

“Something that should happen did not happen. Something that shouldn’t happen took place. Leave behind your past regrets and hopes for the future. Live in the present.”

“What does that mean?” Sun WooHyun stared at Ombuti with curiosity in his eyes.

“Lackey, the brain isn’t there for knowledge to be hammered in. If you want to serve wakil, study.”

Ombuti wouldn’t have known the logic behind Sun WooHyun’s question. He provoked Sun WooHyun and disappeared. Taken aback, Sun WooHyun focused his gaze on Ombuti’s back before letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, you’re amazing, fine. Why are people from democratic countries so difficult? I’m just going to act as wakil’s bodyguard and shoot at things.”

Once he finished burying all the bodies, Ombuti started organizing the employees into groups and assigning leaders. Mohammad’s business experience helped. He divided the farm like a chessboard to determine the area and calculated the hours and average yield rate.

If the employees managed to achieve the average yield rate, they’d be paid their usual wage of 10 francs. However, if it was above average, they were promised extra. That was the Korean wage system. After the announcement of the new labor rules, the wide-eyed employees rushed to their work stations.

While the incentives could be regarded as an exploitation of labor, there was no better way to increase work efficiency. The employees, including their family members, would cut down their breaks to earn more in a short amount of time. It was Ombuti’s sly idea to convince them that time was money and that their efforts would be rewarded.

After the holocaust, the Samaria farm was managed quickly. The employees grew attached to the cotton yields, and the mansion employees got busier as they prepared the mansion for the new owner. The hopelessness of the dead and the glee of the living only grew dull with time. Only the great cross, which punished the humans’ foolishness and the living’s ruthlessness, remained.


A Gazelle appeared above the Samaria farm at sunset. Sun WooHyun waved a white flag around to signal it to land on the house’s front yard.

The guests lowered their backs to avoid wind from the helicopter’s blade and ran out of the cabin. There was a slender middle-aged man, a slender middle-aged woman alongside two young men. All of them wore light clothes as though they’d come to tour the African safari.

“Ariba, why are you here? It is quite the distance to travel,” Black Mamba said as he reached out his hand for a handshake.

Ariba, who was skin and bones, reached out his hands in response.

“I received your emergency message from N’Djamena. The Operations Department is suffering from migraines. What kind of joke are you playing? You look like you’re about to become a farmer. Keke.” Ariba laughed at Black Mamba’s attire.

Ariba was moved by Black Mamba’s humanity, hidden under all that brutality. It wasn’t an easy matter taking care of 100s of lives when one’s own life was at risk. Thanks to the incident, he could overcome most of his Black Mamba phobia.

“You rushed here because of my request, didn’t you?”

“Look at me. I’ve started experiencing patchy hair loss because of your poor personality, military advisor. I didn’t want to get my butt kicked from holding back. Half of the airborne company’s set off by land. These are the best experts we could find to help you.”

“Oh, that is good news. Do introduce me.”

“This is Professor Hawk Orifice, who has a PhD in Pedology and Botany. He works at Paris Institute of Technology and immediately made his way down here after taking a leave of absence.”

A stout man in his 50s reached out his hand for a handshake. Rimless glasses rested on his crooked nose. His hawk-like features embodied mischief.

“I really want to meet the idiot who’s trying to turn Ennedi into a farm.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m that idiot, Sbard Gulbeig. You can call me Dong-bang-bull-pae. Please be informed that I’m not fluent in French.”

“I don’t care about that. Fluency doesn’t make up for your ability. You’re a young man more suited for the title of Don Quixote of Africa rather than the one who chased gold. Kekeke!”

Professor Orifice laughed. Black Mamba smiled bitterly. Every time anyone heard that stupid nickname, they laughed.

“This is Professor Michelle Mulsoli, a Plant Design researcher at École Polytechnique. This is Professor Bopal Shernion, a business administration researcher at the National School of Public Administration. He’s also well-educated in city planning.”

Professor Mulsoli and Professor Shernion nodded warmly at the introduction.

“Mulsoli, I’m a research professor who still hands out checks even if people only eat and play. I don’t need to be remunerated. I’m satisfied with adventures and fun.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs. I am afraid that Africa might be too harsh for your delicate hands and fragile body.”

“I’ve come here despite my husband’s protests, so I should try.” Professor Mulsoli smiled.

“Minister Vincent Valerie constantly reminded me to help you as much as I can. Do you know his weakness or something? I don’t need a salary either, hahaha!”

Black Mamba’s mouth hung open. He wanted to enter the Grande École but had given up due to its harsh curriculum. France’s higher education system was divided into regular universities and Grande Écoles. The Paris Institute of Technology and École Polytechnique were Grande Écoles. The Grande École was a traditional elite education facility that only existed in France, selecting only a small number of elites from its applicants. After graduating from the Grande École, students were given PhD’s, unlike regular universities. This meant that France had dispatched their best experts to help him.

“I’m Dong-bang-bull-pae. I hate free things. Professionals should be treated like one. I’ll pay double the amount of your annual salary. If something happens that can’t be solved by the law, contact me through Ariba. I’ll grant at least one wish.”

“Huh, it seems like manager Ariba was right. It’s like I’m meeting a genie through this project. See, didn’t I say this business made sense?” Professor Orifice turned to his friends and smiled.

Black Mamba introduced Ombuti and his five Syrian companions.

“Al Aman Ombuti represents Wakil Commerce Company and me. Ombuti will oversee the entire project and its advancement. These are the guards who will be protecting all of you, precious professors. From the left is the head of guards called lackey, leader Ibrahim, leader Mohammad, leader Jamal, leader Ahmad, and leader Aishe. There will be more guards coming in from the mainland soon.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s start immediately. I heard the land that you’re trying to develop is around 25,000 square kilometers, Ddu-bai-buru-pa. I want to see it immediately,” Professor Orifice rushed.

“Hahaha, you must’ve been waiting for this moment, professor. It’ll be dark soon. Let’s move after setting down your bags,” Ariba suggested to stop Professor Orifice from rushing.

Africa wasn’t like Paris. Even the most experienced guide had a hard time moving in the dark.

“What are you talking about? I’ve dreamed about a night flight for 30 years, something just like Saint-Exupery. I want to see the milky way that fills the empty desert and hear the jingling camel bells. Isn’t there a Jeep on the Chinook? I can’t give up on a romantic night desert tour,” Professor Orifice argued, spitting everywhere.

Black Mamba smiled bitterly. At night, the desert was cold to the point that it was scary. He didn’t know what it was like at the Ennedi Plateau, but the regions around the Tibesti mountains dropped below zero degrees Celsius. He wondered whether Professor Orifice would find it romantic at all?

“I want to see the Ennedi Plateau too but will stay behind with Mr. Ombuti since the factory construction requires immediate help.” Professor Mulsoli stepped back with a regretful expression.

Black Mamba didn’t stop her. Although she looked fearless, as a woman, the professor shouldn’t wander around Africa’s wildlife. In fact, he feared for Professor Orifice and Professor Shernion too.

At 22:00 on the dot, two Gazelles headed north-east. Black Mamba, Professor Orifice, Professor Shernion, and Ibrahim boarded the Gazelles. Ombuti, Sun WooHyun, and Professor Mulsoli were left behind to organize the farm.

The group headed toward Fada after boarding a Chinook in Ati. Fada was the only oasis city in Ennedi Plateau. They were able to shorten travel time due to Ariba’s route management and avoid the troubles of crossing the desert. The Ennedi Plateau wasn’t a place that could be reached within a night, even on a Jeep from Wadi Fira.

At three in the morning, the Chinook, which arrived in Fada, opened its rear ramp. Two Jeeps with large tires moved out in a row.

The pilot handed him a backpack.

“There’s a satellite phone set and a tailored weapon just for you, military advisor. Your private plane is heading toward Fada Airport. You’ll be able to move comfortably during your return. Two of the 13th Legion Etranger companies are located in Darfur, Sudan. In case of emergency, the call sign is 352-13-4577. The search team should have reached Navar, north of Ennedi by now. Their call sign is 352-16-5577. I wish you luck, special military advisor. Act!”

“Good work,” Black Mamba answered and gestured a brief wave at the respectful salute.

The five Syrians were surprised. The government had supplied him with manpower and mobilized Gazelles and Chinooks. They even gave him a private jet and the authority to move soldiers in times of crisis. The amount of support was unimaginable.

“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, I’d like to ask you something if you don’t mind,” Mohammad carefully asked.

“What do you want to know?”

“The French government is well-known for being arrogant. Why are they so compliant and willing to cooperate with you, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa?”

The five Syrians leaned in to listen at once. They had been curious about it for a long time. Ddu-bai-buru-pa wasn’t a human but an apostle with immense strength. Still, there was a difference between individual and national power.

“That’s because France is a first-world country. There are more cases in which an individual’s needs clash with a country’s needs. At the request of the French government, I destroyed Ruman, which was a hidden ANO headquarter located in Kaparja Valley. There, a regional Middle East DGSE director was held as a hostage. I couldn’t confirm, but consul Baylout was there too. Although the intelligence department and higher-ups acted like they didn’t know, the DGSE did. They knew the hostage’s safety wouldn’t be guaranteed if I attacked. France is a democratic country that values human lives. Why do you think they made such a rash decision?”

“In hostage situations, France strongly believes that negotiating with terrorist organizations is out of the question.”

Black Mamba smiled slightly at Mohammad’s words.

“No country officially negotiates hostage situations with terrorist organizations. Now that’s when a dilemma arises. If they don’t negotiate with the abductor, the citizens will criticize the government for abandoning their people. What do you think will happen once the negotiations with the abductor fall through?”

“The safety of many more citizens will be at risk. Terrorist organizations will grab the opportunity to make money, after all.”

“Correct. Negotiating the ransom will set an undesirable precedent. There’s no way terrorists will let go of a watering pot that provides them large sums of money just for a hostage. The terrorist organizations will start targeting citizens and take them as hostages. The entire city will be in danger because they tried to save the hostage. Just like that, their ransoms will increase too.”

“So negotiation during hostage situations should never take place.”

“Hahaha, can you say that if Bassel is held as a hostage? What if it was me?”

There was silence.

The five Syrians couldn’t answer. Without negotiation, it lowered the chances of putting the citizens at risk. It was a beneficial decision in the long run too. Still, would they be able to sacrifice the few for the many if their loved ones or their family member was on the line?

“Despite the criticisms that they could face, France sent me to uproot the ANO. No b*stard considers one’s own life worthless. The ANO and other terrorist organizations fled beyond the border at checkmate. No b*stard will terrorize France or kidnap French citizens residing overseas for a while. In the end, France created a profitable business. France was able to make such a decision because of their pride. A government without legitimacy and a regime wouldn’t be able to do so. They don’t have the gall to face criticisms since they prioritize their own safety instead of the interests of the state.”

The five Syrians nodded. Those words reached their hearts. While sacrificing the few for the many was easier said, there were many obstacles. There were times when the line between the few and the many was vague.
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