God of Blackfield

You motherfucker!

As the enemy flinched, Kang Chan grabbed the middle finger next.

Flip! Crack!

“Kegh!”

The enemy groaned in pain, and his grip on Kang Chan’s neck loosened.

Aware that he would be done for if he missed this opportunity, Kang Chan twisted and brought down the enemy’s right hand in front of his face and grabbed the back of the knife threatening to stab him.

Swish!

He then shoved it hard toward the enemy’s throat.

Pow! Jab!

Along with a ghastly gasp, blood began to drip from the stab wound. A second later, it gushed out like water escaping from a torn rubber hose.

Swoooosh!

Blood covered Kang Chan from his face down to his shoulders.

Thud!

Kang Chan shifted to the side, and the enemy fell to the ground. The man wriggled and shuddered convulsively.

Though freed from his opponent, there was no way Kang Chan could get up with Enzo on his back. Hence, he unstrapped the rifle from his shoulder and lifted Enzo’s bootlace-tied hands from around his neck as if he were removing a shirt.

Enzo was already unconscious.

Kang Chan raised his upper body and sat on the haunches of his legs. Afterward, he slowly looked around.

The blood that had dripped down his nose stuck to his throat, giving off a foul odor.

“Damn it,” he cursed in Korean.

Enemy corpses lay strewn about before him, those to his left closer to him than those to his right. There was also the man who had a grotesquely twisted bayonet in his throat.

Kang Chan wiped his eyes with the back of his right arm and then raised his other arm to rub his face, but he ended up smearing the blood all over him instead.

Rustle, rustle.

Kang Chan wiped his palms on his thighs and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Right now, it was the best thing he had that could help him eliminate the smell of blood and the lingering discomfort akin to the aftertaste of water in a rusted can.

Clunk. Hiss!

“Hooo.”

He could really use some ramyeon, soondae, twisted fish cakes on long sticks, shaved ice with lots of red and blue coloring, and mini kimbap right now.

Shit! I might as well eat pork cutlets and jjajangmyeon.The prices are similar anyway.

“Hoo!”

I wonder if I’ll ever make a friend I’d be willing to die for like that in my life.

If he survived the whole five years and got French citizenship and pension, maybe he could find a girl too…

Fuck that!

Bodies lay in front of him all lined up like billiard balls, yet he was thinking of foolish things.

Kang Chan took a deep drag on his cigarette and stubbed the rest of it on the ground.

Click.

Afterward, he pushed himself off the floor.

He couldn’t afford to take his time anymore. After all, he didn’t even know when enemy reinforcements would start coming after him. He also had to rush the pale-faced Enzo back to the unit.

Shing!

Kang Chan picked up a bayonet and approached the dead enemies.

If he wanted to survive this and return to the unit, he would have to strap a bayonet to his lower leg and right thigh. That way, if enemies ever pinned him again, he could draw them at a moment’s notice.

It’ll be easier if I have Enzo on top of that too…

However, he shook his head before he could cut off the cloth that his enemies wore as a skirt over their pants. Its material was so flimsy that pulling on it would probably tear it.

Kang Chan disappointedly walked back and strapped two rifles diagonally across his shoulders, then another around his neck.

These alone already weighed over ten kilograms.

Kang Chan pulled Enzo’s arms up to sit him on the ground, squatted down to face him, and then slipped Enzo’s tied wrists around his neck as if he were wearing them.

Next, he stuck his arms under Enzo’s armpits and pushed himself up.

“Argh!”

After holding Enzo by the shoulders to keep him from falling, Kang Chan turned away and leaned forward, getting the man to lie on his back.

Clunk! Clunk!

He bounced Enzo up twice and then folded his legs around the rifles.

Fortunately, Enzo likely didn’t feel any pain since he was unconscious. Even if he did, this was a lot more humane than abandoning him here.

Clunk, clunk.

Is this why they made us march thirty kilometers during training? Well, that aside, I wonder what those school dropouts are doing now.

They probably thought life was unfair. While they couldn’t even get a good grade to save their lives, Kang Chan had…

Clunk, clunk.

The noise from the weapons hanging from him cut his train of thought, seemingly telling him that this wasn’t the time to be concerned about others right now.

Pain enveloped Kang Chan as he marched under the sun’s brilliant glare. His shoulders, back, and thighs felt as if they were going to be ripped apart.

Sweat was dripping buckets down his back, and he felt incredibly thirsty.

He wanted to rest. Just for a moment, he wanted to sit down to get the weight pulling down his spine off his shoulders. However, if he stopped now, he wasn’t sure he could get Enzo back up again.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.

This has to be why the training was mandatory.

Had he not endured a thirty-kilometer march during training before, he would likely be lying on the ground already.

Click!

Kang Chan stopped walking and looked back.

It didn’t seem like anyone was following them yet.

Why did the sun seem to shine in rays? He could remember learning about it in school, but he had forgotten everything about the lesson.

Kang Chan repeatedly walked and turned around.

“Should I just kill him?” he complained in Korean. “It would be easier if I just leave him here.”

It would haunt him for the rest of his life, though.

“Fuck!” he cursed amid heavy breaths.

Usually, he walked exactly a meter with every step, but with Enzo on his back, he could only cover seventy-five centimeters. For every ten steps, he traveled seven meters and fifty centimeters, and for every hundred, seventy-five meters.

The sun that had climbed over his head was now back at his forehead.

In the morning, Kang Chan had ridden a truck to get to where the fucking sun was waking up, and now, he was trudging toward where it was setting.

He didn’t know how long he walked; he had long since stopped thinking and started moving mechanically.

Eventually, Kang Chan found their lonely headquarters in the distance. He wasn’t sure exactly when it came into view, but now that he had his goal in sight, the remaining distance felt terribly large.

Click, click.

However, he couldn’t stop now. Narrowing the gap by seventy-five centimeters at a time, Kang Chan moved forward.

One hundred meters. Seventy meters. Fifty meters.

Click, click.

Thirty meters.

Twenty.

Ten.

The barracks were finally right in front of him!

Click, click.

He thought this was the kind of thing where the soldiers should be standing out in front and applauding as he arrived.

Kang Chan collapsed to the ground in front of the tent at the center.

He’d feel bad if the fall hurt Enzo, but he had brought him all the way here instead of leaving him behind. To be frank, he was unconscious now anyway, so what did it matter?

“Haah! Haah!”

A bit of the sun had already gone past the horizon.

Kang Chan peeled the rifle straps off his shoulders, making him feel as if the weight of the world was being lifted off him.

He felt so light that it seemed as though he could have soared into the sky at any moment if only he had the energy for it.

“Argh.”

Kang Chan forced himself to his feet and moved toward Enzo’s quarters.

Flap!

He drew the curtains to the side, a musty odor greeting him.

A field cot, a radio on the desk to the left, a machine gun next to it, a table to the right, and water and C-rations on top of it.

Kang Chan first picked up the water.

Crinkle!

He opened the bottle and gulped it all down.

Holy fuck. Nothing could be sweeter than this.

Kang Chan grabbed two more bottles. While still downing the water, he walked toward Enzo.

Gulp, gulp.

The water dripped down his neck and chest, which felt just as refreshing.

Thud!

Kang Chan plopped down beside Enzo. Then, he grabbed his head, pulled him upright, and poured water on his face.

Pft.

When the water hit him, Enzo’s face twitched.

Good. He’s still alive.

“Enzo! Enzo!”

Perhaps it was the water or Kang Chan’s voice, but Enzo’s eyelids fluttered and opened by a hair’s width.

He struggled to swallow the water that Kang Chan was helping him drink.

Kang Chan slipped his arm under Enzo’s armpits and dragged him to his barracks. Then, finally, he laid Enzo down on his bed.

He couldn’t wait to rest. He had to hurry up and finish what had to be done.

Kang Chan grabbed the medicine box from the table to his right and poured some antiseptic on the bandages.

“Urgh,” Enzo groaned.

This is nothing compared to your close encounter with death. Man up.

Next, Kang Chan untied the bandages from earlier. He never realized the human body festered so quickly.

As thick pus dripped from between the pale flesh and onto the bandage, Kang Chan poured a generous amount of antiseptic onto the wound.

“Urrrrgh.”

That one probably hurt a bit.

Then, he sprayed and applied a hemostatic and some other medicines onto his legs.

After wrapping it with some new bandages, Kang Chan found an IV drip pack at the bottom of a medicine box.

Considering Enzo had lost a lot of blood, it would probably be nice to take something like that. Unfortunately, Kang Chan didn’t know if he could just poke it into any visible vein or if it worked differently. He wasn’t sure if it had spoiled in this weather either.

“Enzo! Can I put this in your vein? Enzo!”

“Where am I…?”

“Wake up! We just got back to the base! Can I use this?”

Enzo looked around him before turning back to Kang Chan.

“Radio first…” he mumbled, barely coherent. “Left switch, Retreat, all men down, request backup.”

It was a jumble of words, but Kang Chan got the idea.

He stood up to pick up the radio.

First, he flipped the red switch on the left side of the square device. Afterward, he pulled the transmitter up.

“This is Retreat! This is Retreat! Requesting support! I repeat! Requesting support!”

Is anyone actually listening to this?

Kang Chan repeated himself two more times.

Chk.

- Retreat! How many men are alive?

Wind and chatter tinged the answer.

“Two. When is backup coming?”

- Understood, Retreat. Stand by.

What the fuck? Did they think I’m Enzo? We’re all dead and there’s only two of us left! How can they end the radio call like they’re saying they’ll catch us later?

Kang Chan set the transmitter on the table and shifted again.

“What about the drip pack?”

Enzo was silent now.

If Enzo was going to die anyway, Kang Chan would feel less resentful if he at least died with an IV attached to him.

Kang Chan hung the pack over the machine gun and attached a needle to the end of the tube.

I heard if air enters your heart, you die. Wonder if that’s true.

He opened the regulator and let the drip fluid drain out. He then grabbed Enzo’s arm and looked for a vein. Fortunately, his veins looked like they were on an anatomical diagram, which made them easy to see.

Stab!

Oops. Guess the angle is important.

Stab!

Huh?

Stab!

The third poke looked somewhat better. Well, he’d seen something like it before.

Kang Chan secured the needle with a bandage and opened the regulator.

Drip! Drip! Drip! Drip!

“Haah!”

Now, he had to eat something.

Kang Chan picked up two C-rations from the table and walked over to Enzo.

He first opened the condensed milk and poured some into Enzo’s mouth. Kang Chan’s mouth watered as the sweet smell tickled his nose, but he still fed Enzo the entire pack of condensed milk.

Enzo looked like he was sleeping. If he woke up, he’d probably say that he had condensed milk in his dream.

Needing a moment’s break, Kang Chan went outside, sat down at the table not obscured by anything, and began to eat the C-rations.

His fingernails were stained black with the blood of the enemy.

Fuck!

He had just blown someone’s head off and slit someone’s throat, yet he was now shoveling food down his throat to keep himself alive!

Crunch, crunch.

Still, it was important to eat.

Kang Chan finished two whole C-rations and swigged a bottle of water again. His stomach was full, and he was starting to fall asleep.

That much was understandable, though. He did walkfor over two hours carrying that bulk of a guy.

He wanted to sleep.

However, he didn’t know when those lunatics would come dashing at them with bayonets again.

Kang Chan had survived twenty-four hours out of forty-eight. He’d heard all the men before him had been killed, so he wondered what Enzo was thinking when he was left here all alone and whenever he had to lead the reinforcements to Point Alpha again.

Enzo had told him to run away and that he would just report Kang Chan as a battle casualty.

That had to have been because Enzo knew something.

After letting out a long sigh, Kang Chan took a cigarette from his breast pocket and put it in his mouth.

Clunk! Hiss!

“Hoo!”

What kind of calm response was that to a report saying everyone else had died and only two survived?

Were they supposed to just pretend to steal something? At the cost of the death of new recruits?

Kang Chan tilted his head and looked back at the path he’d taken.

The fact that they hadn’t set up a guard on the first night had to have been because they were confident that the enemy would never touch this place.

Kang Chan scanned the barracks fiercely.

Did that man know something?

Thought after thought led to another.

“Hoo.”

As he watched the cigarette smoke drift over the African soil, he cut his endless train of thought.

Based on his reflection of what had happened until now, he thought he could let down his guard a bit. If so, that meant he had time for another C-ration.