Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 272 - National Treasure

Chapter 272: Chapter 31, Episode 3: National Treasure

All of the weapons were specially-made for Black Mamba. He welcomed them as though his hands and feet had returned. The combat boots and the uniform were sand-colored, which didn’t stand out. He was satisfied with the specially-made uniform. He wore the uniform, equipped his weapons, and wore the loose gandoura on top.

He pulled out the backpack’s bulletproof plate and attached the Boss-saurus’ jaw tendon on it. Despite its tenacity, the Boss-saurus’ tendon couldn’t withstand the power of the strange metal. It was sliced like a paper cut with scissors.

The Boss-saurus’ jaw tendon was lighter than the bulletproof plate and had better defensive qualities. A 7.62 millimeters bullet wouldn’t be able to pierce through it. In battle, his weakest body part was his back. The risk that came with battling would decrease substantially when the back was equipped with protective gear against bullets. It was like a treasure for battling mercenaries. The Ruman plan had caused him much pain, but at the same time, it had given him many rewards too.

“Amazing!” he exclaimed.

He liked how they handled his request as fast as lightning. The distance was 4,300 kilometers from Paris to Damascus by air. While their quick response was surprising, France’s decision to send him the equipment by a supersonic aircraft was even more so. France really did know how to use people.

Bonipas had said this when offering him French citizenship, “Black Mamba, I respect your love for Korea. However, patriotism can only last so long with constant mistreatment. France doesn’t force patriotism. Patriotism naturally comes when one receives equal treatment from their country. You have what it takes to receive endless benefits, and France will earn your trust.”

It was true. Great powers weren’t created randomly. While they seemed haphazard, they spared no expense when it came down to the nation’s interests. They boldly invested in talents and achieved results beyond their investment. What about Korea? They focused on patriotism without giving any special treatment. The politicians or high-ranking people ate all the achievements, while the source was given only a few words of praise.

Could a Korean intelligence head make such hasty decisions like Bonipas? It was impossible. The director would have wasted at least one week feeling out the intentions of the higher-ups before attaining a stamp of approval. No, the person in that position wouldn’t have dreamed of using a supersonic aircraft in the first place.

Korea was a country where the soldiers, who were supposed to protect the country, created an organization called the Hana Council and came into power after devising a coup d’etat. Government officials, high-ranking officials, and military commanders who sang praises about the country and the nation’s welfare were those blinded by personal prejudice and corruption.

The judicial system, which should be guiding the people, became a bat that hit them instead. He had left his country because he had been hit. Could they make the same decision as Bonipas for the nation’s interests? Thinking about his motherland, which he loved but couldn’t like, made him depressed.

The embassy’s front yard became noisy. Large buses lined the yard. Black Mamba shook his head to clear his thoughts. He pulled out the shiny metal and analyzed every part of it. He didn’t have the opportunity to look at it closely since he was busy moving around.

On the surface, it looked like titanium. He had attempted to break it with a hammer, drilled a hole through it, burned it with a torch, placed it in hydrochloric acid and dry ice, and all kinds of destructible methods, but nothing worked. Instead, it turned cold when he tried torching it and heated up when he placed it in dry ice.

“Ha, fine, you damn amazing b*stard.”

It was an object stranger than the billion’s water armor. He did discover three of its properties. Firstly, it didn’t receive any influence from the surrounding temperature. It always maintained a temperature of 20 degrees Celsius. What’s even more surprising was that when the surrounding temperature rose beyond 100 degrees Celsius, its surface temperature dropped rapidly.

Secondly, it was hard. A diamond was incomparable. He only wasted the drill bit while trying to drill through the metal. Thirdly, it reacted to the billion’s water armor. It was nothing but a hard metal in bare hands, but when he smashed the iron plate with his billion’s water armor on, it pierced through the metal like tofu. It meant that an element was present to dismantle the molecular bonds upon contact.

Was there an object more stranger than that in this world?

“Well, anything is possible when beings like blacky exist. It’s best suited to be a whip’s head.”

His hair roots would suffer from trying to understand an object that he couldn’t wrap his head around. He stretched out the Boss-saurus'[1] tendon of 10 meters long, shoved it through the metal’s hole, and tied it firmly. It was a replacement for the Gorgon.

Now that he had assembled it, it didn’t look bad. It was a tendon from the strongest dinosaur of the Mesozoic Era, and it was a metal that seemed to be a meteorite. It was the combination of the strongest and unique items on Earth. He grabbed the whip’s shorter length and swung it lightly.

Whoosh—

Crack—

The metal at the end of his whip embedded itself deeply into the concrete wall. It seemed like it could pierce through a tank.

“Hehe, this thing’s amazing. I need to name it—”

He fell into deep thought, unlike his usual self. The black leopard immediately became blacky the moment he had named the underground world’s Adras, blacky. He had learned a lesson about the meaning of names. Blacky would have been a pig had he imagined a pig instead of a black leopard.

“Ah, I see!”

He slapped his knee. He called himself Asura. Asura was the strongest war deity who traveled between heaven and hell. The five holy weapons in Asura’s hands were the sun, moon, knife, Vajra, and twine. The knife, Vajra, and twine were weapons that destroyed the evil beings in heaven and hell.

Asura’s weapons were the knife, Vajra, and twine. That matched up to his arsenal of weapons. He used the Kukri as a knife, the strange metal as a Vajra, and the Boss-saurus’ tendon as a twine. What a coincidence!

Is this heaven’s will? Am I walking on Asura’s path as teacher had said?

He took out the Kukri and the whip and stared blankly at them. He decided on their names. He held the metal and the Boss-saurus’ tendon tightly and announced their names solemnly.

“You’re Vajra, and you’re Rakshasa. You’re Vajra and Rakshasa of Dong-bang-bull-pae, the weapons that destroy evil beings.”

Rakshasa was Asura’s holy weapon and a deity at the same time. The names seemed fitting. It was an opposite reaction from when he had named the gloves, billion’s water armor. With that, Asura’s five holy weapons were gathered. The holy weapon of positive energy, the Dragunov, the holy weapon of negative energy, the billion’s water armor, the Kukri, the Vajra, and the Rakshasa.

Black Mamba headed toward the soldiers’ grounds to familiarize himself with the Rakshasa.

“What are those?”

There was a big red cross on the large buses’ front and back windows. It was a sheet with printed red crosses. There was a large banner plastered on the sides of the buses.

[Emergency group evacuation of waterborne infectious disease carriers] By The International Red Cross Organization and sponsored by the French Embassy.

“Hehe, Ecjose must have exhausted his brain,” he laughed.

The stubborn soldier had used quite the trick. Waterborne infectious diseases were transmitted when one came into contact with patients who had dysentery, typhoid, paratyphoid, norovirus, hepatitis A, and more.

He’d used his brain to prevent Syria from interfering. Humans used their brains well when there was a purpose. In his opinion, it was a brain that he welcomed, for someone who had planned a hard breakthrough. There was nothing to be afraid of, and preparations meant no conflicts.

“Act!” Once spotted, Ecjose ran over to salute Black Mamba.

“Good idea. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ve prepared 12 buses with enough seats and three more trucks for the luggage. Won’t there be a lot of them if this is a migration procession?”

“Oh-ho, I didn’t think of that. I won’t forget your consideration.”

“Thank you, sir!”

A smile slowly appeared on major Ecjose’s face since he had recovered points in his favor. He had been freaking out ever since the ambassador told him that special military advisors had the power to punish field officers.

On October 12th, at 23:00.

A Jeep with a large red cross mark attached to the side fender and a red cross flag attached to the front car led the way. 12 buses and three five-ton trucks followed.

There were countless checkpoints from Damascus to Aleppo. The Syrian government had increased the number of checkpoints in fear of the Muslim Brotherhood’s rising riots.

Ecjose’s effort paid off. Most of the checkpoints only confirmed their papers before allowing them to pass through. Some checkpoints that approached them for inspection were bribed by Ecjose, which allowed them to pass through. Despite being a socialist country, Syria took bribes in exchange for a free pass.

Five villages located in the east of Maydanki Lake around Gobelaka Village grew busy. The men and women, who had belongings on their backs and heads, gathered in the vacant field in front of the temple. The Orthodox Christians guards went back and forth on their bikes, rushing them forward.

Vrroom—

A headlight shone on the rough terrain.

“Oh, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa is coming!” the locals, who were waiting, shouted optimistically.

When Black Mamba got off the Jeep, 100s of locals kneeled and greeted Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa.

Jamal, who had a Barrett slung over his shoulder, and Ahmad, who had his shamshir, stood beside Black Mamba, one on each side. They were determined not to let anyone approach him without permission. When Black Mamba raised his hand, the commotion stopped.

“My brothers, you’ve been through many hardships. Humans do not live to be happy. They’re happy to be alive. If there is no happiness in life, you have to change life itself. The Orthodox Christians, who live on the west bank of the lake, were excluded from this migration procession. They are not desperate. Brothers, your desperation moved me, not your religion. I will move you all to a temporary residence in France. I, Ddu-bai-buru-pa, want a world where efforts come at a fair price, a world where people are treated according to their ability. When the time comes, you will all live in a land of freedom where there is no oppression. There is no need to bring extra money. All necessities like food, clothing, and shelter are provided. There is only one thing that I want. It is the happiness of my brothers.”

“Yes, hooray, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa!”

“Oh, God! May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised!”

The Orthodox Christians’ cheers shook the castle ruins.

“What the hell! Ddu-bai-buru-pa? This is like the return of Khomeini!”

Major Ecjose, who was pushed back by Jamal and Ahmad, looked on with eyes wide open. That wasn’t the special military advisor, but the leader of fanatics. The difference between the special military advisor who had destroyed the guards and the person standing there was too great.

Two kilometers away in Qatmah Village, north of Gobelaka, a small fight occurred.

“Father, this is our last chance. There’s nothing more to lose. Deacon Bakri and Mohammad witnessed plenty of Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s good fortune. He’s a person with unimaginable strength and a warm heart. He’s the person who healed Wael.”

“Son, how long do you think I can live? I don’t want to leave the land where our ancestors inhabited for generations.”

“He’s the apostle incarnate. He got rid of the sila and returned grandfather’s remains to us. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa is going to create a new world. If we don’t leave now, we’ll never have another chance,” the young son continued to persuade his father.

“No. I’m not staying because I don’t believe him. Clearly, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa is the apostle who God sent to lead us because He found us unfortunate. However, I’m an old person who’ll be nothing but a burden to Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa. Without old people like me, the chances of survival are higher for young people like you. I’m old and will only become a burden on this long trip.”

“Fa…father! Not even animals live like this. I can’t live in this place any longer, where we live in fear every single day. Father, you need to live the rest of your life in comfort. Aren’t you tired of this place where you lost your family and wealth overnight?”

The young son ended up bursting into tears. He couldn’t leave his old father behind, but he didn’t want to miss the opportunity either.

“Son, hurry up and leave. You are young. You should find a new life.”

Vroom—

The roar of a bike’s engine sounded outside.

“Ozalin, what have you been doing? Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa has prepared buses for us all. There’s no time. He even brought food trucks!” their fellow guard shouted from the bike.

“Buses? Food?”

“Yes, you brat. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa has prepared buses and food for everyone. We don’t have to walk until our feet bleed with heavy loads on our backs. He even said all necessities are provided.”

“Ohh, it’s a miracle. May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised. Father, did you hear? We only need to get on the bus. We can leave this cursed land!”

“Oh, God! Son, hurry. We cannot offend him by making him wait.”

This time, the old man rushed. He wanted to live like a human too. He’d only remained stubborn out of fear that he would become a burden to his son.

The rumor that Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa had moved France and the Red Cross Organization spread like wildfire. The locals, who gave up on fleeing, immediately packed their belongings and left. They were people who didn’t dare cross the border, people who were weak, and people who feared robbers and the Mukhabarat. All the Orthodox Christians fled their homes, with no one left behind.

“Bakri, Mohammad, what’s happening? You told me there were 460 people, didn’t you?” Black Mamba asked in bewilderment.

540 locals had gathered. There were 80 more people. Ashamed, Bakri could only lower his head.

“I apologize, sir. Please, forgive them. 40 people changed their minds at the last minute, and 40 of them are Kurd Muslims. These are the people who had placed their lives on the line to escape Turkey’s past violence. However, they couldn’t live comfortably here either.”

“Hm, this has become a headache.”

460 was already overwhelming, but that number turned into 540. The back of his head throbbed. Mohammad introduced him to a well-built 40-year-old man with sharp eyes.

“He’s the representative of the Kurd tribe, Ibrahim. I brought him here since he requested to greet you, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa.”

The man kneeled. Immediately, the remaining 39 men, women, and children kneeled along with him.

[1] A name that Black Mamba made up.