Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 152
Chapter 152: Chapter 18, Episode 13: The Returning Battle
Bang—
Explosions rang. A larger explosion that shook the forest rang several seconds later. The stocked shells had set off another explosion. The weaker frontal and rear plates exploded. A storm of fire swept across the surroundings.
The gun that had jumped into the air twirled before landing on the ground with its barrel embedded in the ground. It was an astounding sculpture, but there wasn’t time for admiration. Black Mamba escaped the scene at his fastest speed in surprise.
Five to six guerrillas who were swept up in the explosion were shredded. Just like that, two tanks that Habib worked to get his hands on, were turned into abandoned metal.
“Looks like tanks aren’t that big of a deal.”
Black Mamba’s eyes strayed to the sight of the tank, which was burning grandly. With another bang, the black smoke and fire gained another level. The fuel had exploded.
A black, burnt object flew in the air and landed before his feet. It was an ankle that had been dismembered from a human. It had been a foot that ran across the ground vigorously. A shining life had turned into black ashes, instantly.
“Color is nothingness, and nothingness is color, becoming one is meaningless in time, ruleless in space, and therefore infinite!”
Black Mamba quoted a phrase from the Heart Sutra without realizing it. When color was meaningless, there was no point in caring. Tanks were objects, and the ashen foot was also an object. If the unfortunate feeling of breaking a tank wasn’t there, the feeling of killing another human was from his instincts and not his consciousness. It was simply the result of the wrong acquaintance. Casualty! It was but a small movement of dust between the many interactions of humans.
“There. The Kanma is there!”
The screams woke those who were still in shock. A few guerrillas with good sight noticed Black Mamba, who had become one with the rock. The tickling feeling, which made him feel as though he was onto something, broke apart.
Crash—
Clang clang clang—
RPGs and bullets poured in.
“F****** b*stards!”
Sssss—
Black Mamba flew into the air on the coattails of the RPG explosion. It was a new technique he’d made when he was bombed in the Sahel. He unimaginatively named it, A Movement for All.
Papapa—
Bullets poured out of the air like rain. The guerrillas, who were confused at the loss of their target, lost their life meaninglessly at the three-tap sniping.
His physical abilities grew the more he fought. The order continued like so: Black Mamba shot, the guerrillas fired, and Black Mamba wiped out the supporting firearm users.
“How many of them are there?” Black Mamba shouted, annoyed.
He had gotten rid of over 150 people in the forest alone. They were like cockroaches. They crawled out endlessly.
Bang bang bang—
Three RPGs were launched simultaneously. Black Mamba threw his body to the launching point. The FROLINAT officers weren’t chicken heads either. They began to use the RPGs as a group. They were attempting to shove Black Mamba into a three-point frame by launching three at the same time. It was the same tactic the Third Army used in Er Ekdim.
Within three to four seconds, 70 meters could be covered. Black Mamba slipped past the RPG shooters while they stuttered. In one, two, three, the necks of both the gunner and sub-gunman fell.
Black Mamba’s teleportation speed reached 20 meters. He had used fearless steps the moment the RPG locked on, killing both gunners relentlessly before disappearing. He intended to increase their fear.
“This is the last one.”
The grenade was thrown. It landed 200 meters away. He used the fearless steps to throw a rock, 40 meters away. It landed 70 meters away from the grenade.
Crash—
“Ahhhh!”
A shout could be heard from the grenade’s explosion point. Soon after, another guerrilla who was hit by the rock, screamed. It was an all-in sniping method he’d based off his superior speed. The guerrillas weren’t able to imagine a grenade coming from several hundreds of meters away.
“Telattun!”
“It’s the Kanma!”
Screams and shouts rang from both sides.
Clang clang clang—
Crash—
Tutututu—
The small guerrilla unit focused their random attacks on the location of the shout. Both sides fired up their RPGs and machine guns.
“Work at it!”
Black Mamba smiled derisively, before whisking himself away in search of new prey.
Fear froze logic. The entire forest suddenly came alive with explosions and gunshots. The FROLINAT soldiers were all in fear of the Kanma, with no exceptions. Fear of battle was added to the mix. That created a bizarre situation where anything that moved was shot at.
Fortune didn’t last forever, even on the best of days. Destruction called rather ironically. Black Mamba’s face crumpled as he turned to a corner of a thick forest.
A wire as thin as thread caught on the end of his feet. It was a booby trap made under the orders of commander Kidili within Abbas’ army.
Sst—
Three arrows were launched at his back.
“It’s irritating!”
Black Mamba was tired of those haphazard booby traps. His concentration had gone down from the long battle drenched in blood.
Schink—
He moved his Kukri and sliced the arrows in two easily.
Rumble—
A huge log with embedded nails fell from somewhere, over his head. Falling objects were a double-tapped booby trap.
“Ah!” he gasped automatically.
However, it was too late to avoid it. There wasn’t even time to move his hands or feet.
“Ugh, whatever.”
He readied his forehead to crash against the rock. It was better to give an impact than receiving one to lessen the damage.
Crash—
The log was as thick as his waist. It cracked and broke into two. The nails embedded in the log, bent.
“My God!”
Surprised, Black Mamba felt his own forehead. He hadn’t expected the log to break.
“How did this happen? It’s like a steel skull!”
Black Mamba didn’t remember the change he went through a few days ago after the coma he earned from straining himself.
“F****** hell!”
It wasn’t the time to be amazed. Black Mamba left the scene as fast as he could at the smell of gunpowder. The last hidden hand behind the trap was a hollowed log filled with gunpowder.
He pushed off the ground and almost broke his ankle.
Crash—
An explosion crashed over him. His body bounced outward from the pressure. No, he sent his body flying with the pressure. The pressure that seemed to press on his vice and the pain that ran through his body shook him awake instead.
He loosened his body which landed on the ground with a crash and rolled. It was to lessen the impact. He hid his body behind a rock without time to manage the pain.
He would’ve been worn out from the booby trap had he not increased the ability of his fearless steps. The booby trap that Abbas had created without many expectations had thrown the great Black Mamba into danger.
He became nervous. The guerrillas would be deaf had they heard the explosion. They’ll be swarming the place like ants soon. Fortunately, his backpack made out of kevlar properties was fine, and he could move his hands and feet without straining them.
As expected, bullets rained down. He came under fire as the rock was chipped off.
“This is bad. I need more time.”
He had avoided a fatal injury, but he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t use his dimensional sight either. He would turn into a beehive if he remained still. That was the greatest danger he faced after wearing the military uniform.
“Well, life and death are up to heaven after all.”
He gritted his teeth and ran, jumping off of the rock. His body created an explosion of power, knowing it rested on an absolute crisis. He ran several meters away in a flash of a shadow.
“Woah, the Kanma’s injured!” the guerrillas shouted.
Tens of guns poured bullets in the direction of the passing shadow faster than an arrow. Black Mamba, who pushed his shadow steps to the limit, disappeared in a few seconds.
“Eep, it’s really the Kanma!”
“Allah!”
The guerrillas, who lost their target, fell into a mental breakdown.
“Follow him, he’s injured!”
“You’ll be given money and women if you inflict an injury!”
“Whoever hesitates will be shot!”
The officers and commanders shouted. The guerrillas began to search as soon as they regained their senses.
“Yeaaah! Catch the Kanma!”
The ground moved in the place where the guerrillas had passed.
Spew—
A huge beast jumped out from the ground. It was Black Mamba, covered in sweat, blood, and sand.
“Kuk!”
Blood leaked from between his fingers, which was grasping his left shoulder.
Beep beep—
He could hear the guerrillas exchanging whistles without interruption.
He activated his four-paced movement, continuously moving 200 meters out of range, and seeped into a rock’s crevice. When he removed his hand, blood drained out. A burning sensation followed.
“F****** hell, this is what happens!”
A stray bullet had made a hole underneath his left shoulder bone. It was peeking out of his bulletproof vest. A bullet that had approached him from his front had embedded itself diagonally below his armpits. Blind bullets were truly the most fearsome foe in a battle.
Fortunately, his senses were returning. His hearing was returning as he could hear the sounds of explosions, similar to that of a popping air bubble. He also recovered his sense of smell. The smell of copper blood filled his nose like tides. Black Mamba, who was taking out his blood pressure bands from his backpack, paused.
Pheeeeeeeew—
It was the sound of a shell crossing the air.
And its landing point?
“S***!”
It was where he was hiding. He kicked off the rock and threw his body in the air.
Crash—
“Argh!”
A rare shout came from Black Mamba’s mouth. He had moved 20 meters instantly, but the hot air and suppression washed over him. It hadn’t been an RPG but a field artillery. It was the 85 mm BC-3 that Sun WooHyun had told him about. The b*stard had once survived a grenade.
There was no way the enemy launched that with a fixed aim. He had been done in by a blind bullet and a blind shell. It was the unluckiest day of his life.
Fortunately, he couldn’t catch anyone in his 200-meters-range dimensional sight. He wrapped the band around his wound and tightened it with a compression bandage. There were still many enemies. He didn’t have the leisure to make them waste bullets.
“Guh.”
He groaned as he tried to stand. Harsh pain flooded him from his left waist.
“Damn it!”
A piece of shard the width of two fingers had embedded itself through his bulletproof vest. He pulled out the shard in annoyance and threw it down. The shard hadn’t embedded itself deeply. The vest had protected him as the first layer, and his muscles, the second layer. It had prevented the shard from going any deeper.
“My rib’s out.”
One of his ribs had broken from the impact of the shard. Even if his vest and muscles protected him, the kinetic energy couldn’t be stopped. The outer injury wasn’t large. An injury that small could automatically heal even when left alone. However, his broken rib was a problem. There was a risk of ripping his organ when left unattended.
He took off his vest and grabbed the fifth broken rib with his thumb and forefinger. His fingers dug into his side as though it was making a hole. It was something he’d already experienced.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a complex fracture but a simple one. It was the same theory as coal. When exposed to outside pressure, lower-quality coal would shatter while higher-quality coal would snap.
He grabbed the rib, which was pushed inside with his pincer fingers, and dragged it out slowly. He was able to see within his body with his dimensional sight, making it usable in such situations.
He grabbed the rib, which was pushed inside, with his pincer fingers and dragged it out slowly. He was able to see within his body with his dimensional sight, making it usable in such situations.
Cold sweat poured down his forehead with a cracking noise. Not even the strong body and mind of a Paranthropus could withstand the pain which seemed to tear through the skin and twist the bones. He pulled the rib back into alignment and wrapped his side tightly with a compression bandage. Strength drained out of him at the end of the procedure.
Cells increased in numbers in his veins. His automatic regeneration had begun. If there hadn’t been a battle, he would have recovered in three days. However, the problem wasn’t those three days, but the current.
“Are those b*stards mad?”
Explosions and gunshots didn’t end around him. Black Mamba tilted his head. A manhunt never lasted long. They were bound to recognize each other if they fought in broad daylight instead of night-time.
“Ha, they’re knocking on places that I would most likely hide in.”
He smiled coldly. He could sense at least 100 guerrillas on his radar. It wasn’t a small number, but he didn’t consider them a threat due to the lack of blood lust.
The FROLINAT regained their peace while Black Mamba hesitated. They were energized at the thought of Kanma being injured. The commanders changed their tactics and destroyed anything that could be the Kanma’s hiding place. They thrashed around the place and poured bullets, RPGs, and grenades into suspicious places.
Both sides were seeking to end each other. An injured predator was bound to act out even more. With an injury and a crisis, the Paranthropus awoke. Black Mamba’s eyes gleamed in red. The instincts of a Paranthropus came to surface. It was the true coming of the Kanma.
