Mercenary Black Mamba

He couldn't help but laugh and figure out which idiot thought of that absurd idea. It was like a god from the Roman Empire had risen in the 20th century. They thought they heard the sound of gunshots but doubted it to be true. Although it seemed absurd, it meant that they shouldn't think lightly of the enemy's battle skills.

Even a person who was the most skilled at martial arts does not have wings to fly. He had to use the ground to use his strength. They were able to attack the legs of those in hiding and flung them into the air. Another person would come and finish them off. They were immensely skilled.

They were trained to use swords and guns. They would throw away their lives for a battle tactic as they were more focused on killing the enemy than saving their own. Each of them was just as good as Pieff in close contact battle.

"Are these men from the Tubu Clan?"

He remembered a couple of the tribes that Chartres had mentioned. If the Sahara Desert was home to the Tuareg Tribe, then the TIbesti was home to the Jerar and Tubu Clan. Both were warrior clans.

Those from the Jerar Clan were small and fast. Those from the Tubu Clan were big-boned and strong. They were fearless and born with innate skills for war. As a result, they were cruel and deadly. The coming of age ceremony for the Tubu Clan required them to bring back the ears of four men. They were a vicious clan who experienced murder since their mid-teens.

Black Mamba caught his breath, then went out to hunt again.

Out in the wild, Black Mamba was different compared to a cobra that attacked everything in sight, even if they were not an imminent threat. There were reports that a cobra would bite a target ten times, proving its persistence and cruelty. The Tubu Clan charged at him, without thinking of their own lives, but it was all for nothing upon meeting Black Mamba.

"Cigarette smell!"

It was the cheap smell of a cigarette that was not properly fermented and dried. The smell diffused through the air and hit him from about 100 meters away.

If emitting resonance was an active surveillance skill, spatial awareness was like a reflection in the mirror. Although there was no hindrance, it couldn't decipher the exact type of object that similarly emitted resonance. There were both pros and cons regarding the matter.

He registered a presence in the left direction. He concentrated on the approximate direction of the target. It was seven meters above the boulder. He waited with bated breath, but he could not avoid Black Mamba's skill.

"He'll be nice to have on our side," he exclaimed. That guy placed the gun under the boulder. He was planning to watch his surveillance skill while luring him out with the smell.

The undercover guerrilla pounced like a predator attacking its prey. His clothes did not make a sound even as it fluttered in the wind. As the moonlight faded, Black Mamba pulled the trigger from over his shoulder.

Click—

The sound of an empty gun echoed.

"Damn!" The magazine was empty. He had forgotten about holding a Beretta. He had forgotten the basics. If the enemy had come at him with a gun, that would have been a dangerous situation.

A sniper instinctively counted his remaining bullets. The Glock he was using has 17 shots while the Beretta has 15. He had been counting to 17, for no reason. Using a weapon that you are accustomed to was very important.

Whing—

Black Mamba shot an uppercut to the jaw of the enemy that had flown out from beneath his feet. He was half a beat too slow and missed hitting him in the jaw. Using that to his advantage, the enemy shot out from between the boulders, swinging the Shamshir.

"Ah!"

Black Mamba uttered an urgent exclamation for the first time since the battle had started. His positioning had been compromised. His right hand, which was holding the Beretta, bent like a whip. Luckily, he bent his arm outward in time.

Ting—

The sword bounced off the gun pistol.

The eyes of the blitz-attacking guerrilla grew large.

Schwing—

The Kukri swung around. His neck got caught in the blade of the Kukri. His head flew upwards.

The body which had lost its head flopped to the ground like a bale of hay.

There had been an attacker hiding where the cigarette smell was coming from. He had laid a double trap. It was a tactic that calculated actions based on human psychology.

They were not men that he could let his guard down around, even for one second.

He felt a piercing gaze coming from the left. He saw a man desperately trying to get into shooting position. It was the man he had attempted to uppercut in the jaw.

Even with the missed hit, his jaw was severely broken.

An impact to the jaw could affect the brain. If it was enough to break the jawbone, it could lead to an aneurysm, and he might lose consciousness. That guy was stubborn enough to fight the aneurysm.

If he was to be impressed by the opponent's fighting skills, he wouldn't be called war's nightmare.

Crack—

The heavy military boots broke his spine. Even though he moved as swiftly as the wind, the strength it had was phenomenal.

Covered in blood, Black Mamba took his time to catch his breath and refill his magazine. He had erased 21 opponents. With six opponents remaining, the hunt was almost over. As the battle raged on, he was splattered with more and more blood. His reflexes, however, got sharper like the end of his blade.

"Die!"

A Tubu Clan warrior who was hiding between the boulders dashed at him like lightning. He had already been on his radar. The murderous eyes and the shining blade of the sword moved slowly in front of him as if he was part of a time slip. That, too, was one of his instinctive powers. When he got drunk on blood, everything around him seemed to move in slow motion.

Black Mamba slid to the side like a ghost. That was only possible because his reflexes and powerful muscles had surpassed the limitations of those of regular humans.

The attacker had swiped at the empty air, and the guerrilla had lost his target. The guerrilla troops rolled once over the ground and returned to their attacking position. Their body was as elastic as a rubber ball.

"Stop, right there!"

The space of five meters was cut short, instantly. The guerrilla who had gotten back into position to attack again was taken over by a black entity.

Thud—

A heavy boot as powerful as that of an orangutan slammed into his face.

Crack—

His skull and spine shattered. He died instantaneously.

Jing—

His chest collapsed.

Ppuk—

It was the sound of a gun going off. Suddenly, time seemed to go slowly. Like water flowing, the air rippled as he was able to see the oncoming attack. It was too late to move out of the way. He crossed the Kukri over his chest to block it.

Clang—

A loud noise ripped at his ears. The thick blade of the sword rang in his ear as it clashed into his Kukri. If the powerful attack had happened before he had arrived at the Sahel, he would have most likely lost his grip on the Kukri.

Black Mamba turned his head.

An awfully skinny man wearing a military uniform and a ritam wrapped around his head came into view. Black Mamba's lips curled into a smile.

"Impressive how you use another person as a distraction and hide behind their breath and heartbeat. Let's meet again after I catch the rest of your underlings."

Before he could even finish his words, the topic of the sentence became irrelevant.

Sun WooHyun stood numbly. The perfect opportunity to execute his second attack had also been a failure.

"Did he just block my bullet with that blade? I must be seeing things because I haven't been able to eat gochujang for so long."

Sun WooHyun couldn't believe his eyes. He had been so surprised that he didn't even register that the opponent had spoken to him in Korean.

"Damn, he's drunk on blood."

Black Mamba started to blame himself. Being cool-headed was a basic requirement for both snipers and assassins. Believing in his phenomenal skills while he got drunk on violence, had him forgetting the basics. He had forgotten to be diligent with his movements and had been lax on surveying his surroundings. In that state, he knew that if he had gotten hit by the enemy, he would have no one to blame but himself.

Black Mamba's movements changed again.

He didn't stop for even a second. He moved to the right, left, front, and back continuously as if he was dancing. His movements were like the wind, and it got faster like lightning. The guerrilla troops got their heads cut off, and their skulls smashed, without even realizing that Black Mamba had been heading towards them.

From above the boulders, the shadow of a sword fell upon him.

Crack—

He stepped on the neck of the man lying on the ground. The man's spine broke, and he died instantly. Other than the man he had just met previously, that would be the last underling. The Tubu Clan warriors who had instilled fear in TIbesti were all easy prey for Black Mamba.

Hoo hoo hoo, ho—

He controlled his breathing to recoup his energy. To get rid of five at one time, he had moved for three minutes without taking a breath. His oxygen-deprived muscles were trembling.

With three deep breaths, his muscles were able to relax.

It was all thanks to the amazing recovery speed of the Paranthropus. Now, there was only one left who seemed to be emanating the most viciousness, thus far.

Sun WooHyun hid with bated breath under camouflage on top of the boulder above him.

The screaming stopped. The 60 men he had dragged here for reconnaissance, melted away, without being able to shoot a single shot.

"Is that person even human?"

He was an insane man possessed by a ghost. He must be Kanma.

It was a shame to have lost the dead soldiers, but they were not his men anyway. The problem was maintaining his reputation. The sleazy face of Hadad flashed before his eyes. To save his reputation, he had to at least put up a good fight, even if he were to lose to him, eventually.

In one breath, he got rid of five men. His muscles stiffened just at the thought of taking him on. He had counted the opponent's breath to find the ideal time to attack, but he could not find an opportunity. The strange man hadn't even been breathing. Attack and defense were based on a rhythm. When the rhythm aligned, the strength of the attack or defense increased accordingly. He seemed to defy logic.

"He is human. He is human."

Sun WooHyun chanted that, took in a deep breath of air, and pushed it deep into his gut. Being nervous would reduce the flexibility of his muscles. He moved his fingers and toes diligently to relax his muscles.

Sun WooHyun put away his Makarov and picked up his sword.

That guy was able to block an oncoming bullet from a close distance. In the time it took to aim, heads have flown off. With that skill, in the time it took for him to aim a gun, he would be discovered. Even if he were to get a shot to stick, the chances of it being critical would be low. A sword would be better. He was confident in his close-range fighting skills. There were hundreds of men who had met their last fate at the blade of his sword.

He sensed his well-trained battle skills, but he was still human.

Sun WooHyun had a skill he knew would be his advantage. There was a limit to a human's VO2max and lactate threshold, even with extensive training. He had gotten rid of 60 men at close-range. If the guy who had battled without breathing was not exhausted, then he must be an alien or a cyborg.

Sun WooHyun glared down eight meters below Kanma's back. He saw the back of someone huffing for air and his trembling muscles.

"Haha, he is definitely tired. He'll want to lay down right then and there."

Sun WooHyun smiled happily.

That guy had moved around for three minutes without taking a breath. His reflexes were incredible. If his reflexes were this fast, then his recovery speed would be fast too. That is the only opportunity he could get where his muscles were relaxed.

"Ah, he sure is taking his sweet time!"

Black Mamba was frustrated. If that guy decided to run away, he would have to waste precious energy chasing after him. Even with him pretending to look tired, that guy was not charging at him recklessly. It was the tactic he used to lure in the hyena.

Sun WooHyun focused all the energy in his body to spurt forward to attack Kanma.

He was aiming for the seventh disc of the neck. The seventh disc of the neck was the only place where blood vessels and nerves did not pass through. It was the weakest part of the human body.

Clang—

The sound of metal on metal rang loudly in their ears.

The Spetsnaz, which he had put all his strength into, was blocked easily.

"Ah!" Sun WooHyun gasped while gritting his teeth. He was immensely powerful. Even if a bear had been swinging a sword, it would be weaker than that. His hand, arm, and shoulder all went numb.

Sun WooHyun used the reflecting force to flip through the air and land gracefully. To not take advantage of this situation was unlike Kanma. The moment he landed, the swinging sword came flying towards him.

"What?"

Sun WooHyun blinked. Kanma was standing there smiling. He was embarrassed by his failure.

"You're awfully faint-hearted."

Sun WooHyun did a double-take.

Hearing Korean in Africa!

"What is this sound? A Korean comrade?"

Black Mamba's eyes grew wide at the sudden outburst of a North Korean dialect.

It seemed incredible that the opponent standing in front of him had spoken in a North Korean accent. In the middle of Africa, in a blood-splattering war, who would have thought that he would come face to face with a North Korean Communist!