God of Blackfield

The situation was becoming increasingly difficult.

Chk.

"Fourth-floor basement cleared!"

It had been over an hour, but they had only just cleared down to the fifth basement floor. The team assigned to the floors aboveground was currently on the fiftieth floor, having started from the top of the building. The people holding out in the building were also a problem.

Chk.

"We’re in one of the offices on the fiftieth floor. There are about seventy people in here."

Kim Hyung-Jung let out a long sigh.

Overtime was understandable. He could fully empathize with the mindset of employees assigned to night duty. However, the soldiers and agents risking their lives for this search didn’t have the time to play hide and seek in different offices.

What if someone suddenly pops out and our men shoot out of instinct?

Kim Hyung-Jung shook his head at the chilling thought. Right after, his phone rang.

Rrrring. Rrrring. Rrrring.

"Kim Hyung-Jung speaking."

- Manager Kim, this is Jeon Sang-Woo.

"How may I help you, Director?"

Jeon Sang-Woo was the director of the National Intelligence Service's Foreign Affairs division.

- Let’s send the employees of the International Building back to the offices we’ve already cleared.

Feeling as if his chest would ignite at the slightest spark, Kim Hyung-Jung silently exhaled hot steam to the side.

- We've already inspected them, so it shouldn't be a problem, right? Although it's been delayed, we still have to prepare for the International Energy Conference and finalize the trade symposium, which we’ll need in two days. We have to be reasonable.

"Director, it's dangerous to be in the International Building right now. You know how risky it is to send people into places we've only just inspected," Kim Hyung-Jung responded as calmly as possible.

- Manager Kim, we're all one family here! I know it's tough, but we all work for the nation's progress! I'm dying here with calls coming in from all sides.

"Our agents are literally risking their lives in these searches."

- Manager Kim!

Kim Hyung-Jung didn't respond. If he did, he felt as if he would shout in anger.

- Hello? Manager Kim!

"Yes, Director," Kim Hyung-Jung forced himself to reply.

Jeon Sang-Woo's heated breath crossed through the call.

- I'm dealing with ministers, deputy ministers, and members of parliament calling at this hour. I know the counter-terrorism team is on edge, but you can't vent your frustrations like this! Do you understand how much damage it would do to the nation if our preparations fail?

"I'm sorry, Director. If it's necessary, please speak with the director and issue an order."

- Manager Kim!

"Yes! Director!"

Enough was enough. Kim Hyung-Jung growled back his reply and looked away, wishing he could curse out loud at the end of the dark lobby.

- Hey! Kim Hyung-Jung! You...! Don’t you recognize the seniority here even though you're on the counter-terrorism team? Are you so blind that you always need the assistant director to speak for you, you greenhorn?

"Director! Our agents and officers are risking their lives right now. I wish you would show the assistant director some respect, too!"

Why am I acting like this? Why am I so angry?

Kim Hyung-Jung immediately regretted his response.

Such reactions could negatively influence Go Gun-Woo and Kang Chan. He knew that better than anyone else.

"I'm sorry. I'm just a bit tense..."

- You! I'll be watching you! Counter-terrorism team? You’ve already lost a director and a chairman, so what exactly have you accomplished? If today's event causes any disruption, it won't just be overlooked.

"I'll take responsibility, sir."

- You better.

The call abruptly ended. Kim Hyung-Jung rubbed his face with one hand and looked at the armed agents.

Rrrring. Rrrring. Rrrring.

This son of a bitch...!

Kim Hyung-Jung barely managed to swallow the curse that was about to explode.

This day is just too much! We’re just trying to combat terrorism! The agents and soldiers are out here risking their lives to protect the safety and lives of the citizens!

Even if it was unavoidable to spectate and broadcast, it was still wrong for others to incessantly call them and tell them what not to do.

Out of consideration for the morale of the counter-terrorism team agents around him, Kim Hyung-Jung swallowed the rising curses and irritation.

Rrrring. Rrrring. Rrrring.

Surprised, Kim Hyung-Jung picked up the phone and pressed the answer button.

"This is Kim Hyung-Jung!"

- Why do you sound like that? Did something happen?

"It’s nothing—no, I mean, how did your trip go?"

- We grabbed a bag from the ship, but we haven’t gotten any results yet. I’ll open it when we land. Can you send a helicopter to the Seongnam Air Base?

"Weren’t you just at Vladivostok? Have you already returned to South Korea?"

The nearby agents were clearly trying to listen in on their conversation. He was certain enough to bet his entire fortune on it.

- I couldn’t contact you immediately because I was coordinating with the satellite surveillance team, the Russian intelligence bureau, and the Chinese intelligence bureau. According to the pilot, we should arrive in about thirty minutes.

“Got it. I'll arrange for a helicopter right away.”

- Please send military uniforms and weapons for four people as well. Note that one of us has really long legs.

"Will do, sir."

Kim Hyung-Jung momentarily thought of Gérard, whom Kang Chan had departed with.

Is it really alright for someone not affiliated with the National Intelligence Service to be involved in matters like this?

- Manager Kim.

"Yes, Assistant Director.”

The way Kim Hyung-Jung responded made him feel an unusual emotion. He turned his gaze out the window.

- Are you really okay?

"I might just be tired. Perhaps I should prepare some coffee before you arrive."

Kang Chan chuckled in response.

- I’ll see you in a bit.

"Yes, sir."

After hanging up the phone, Kim Hyung-Jung turned away and held back a smile.

"The assistant director is on his way here," he said.

A nearby agent’s eyes, which were the only part that wasn’t covered by his helmet and mask, briefly flickered. He seemed to be holding back a smile too.

Oh, I almost forgot!

Kim Hyung-Jung picked up the phone to arrange for a helicopter.

What about Gérard?

The dial tone began to ring.

For now, just think of it as a joint operation with the French Foreign Legion. I’ll worry about the rest later!

Kim Hyung-Jung suddenly felt so at ease that he chuckled.

***

Click.

With an impassive expression, Abibu picked up a neatly folded handkerchief and dabbed it against his mouth.

It was truly splendid. The International Building looked as though it stood at the center of a festival, illuminated by the lights from news broadcast crews and the neighboring buildings. It seemed to vividly showcase the growth of Korea.

From the brightly lit upper floors, he could see a considerably large group of men in white shirts and women in uniforms and suits.

Despite the traffic police's constant directions, people and vehicles continued to crowd the roads. Spectators from nearby buildings also gazed out from their illuminated windows with curious eyes. Abibu still had not turned on his lights.

As his eyes glistened in the window reflection, he ordered, “Get ready.”

“Yes, sir,” his attendant responded.

The attendant placed two black electronic devices the size of lunch boxes next to Abibu. He then moved what looked like a music stand next to him and set three tablets on it. Afterward, he turned on the devices.

Chk.

“Basement level three cleared.”

Chk.

“Got it. Keep up the good work.”

The reports from 606's Special Operations Unit and Kim Hyung-Jung’s responses came through clearly from the first device.

“Search of basement level three is complete,” the attendant explained in Arabic, and Abibu nodded.

Chk.

“We’ve moved the staff down to the forty-ninth floor.”

Chk.

“Understood.”

The attendant relayed the communications between the Jeongpyeong special forces team and Kim Hyung-Jung in Arabic.

The far left tablet was tuned in to a Korean news broadcast. Surprisingly, the middle and rightmost tablets displayed CCTV footage of the International Building and the surrounding roads, with the tablet in the middle showing a split-screen view and the rightmost tablet zoomed in on the selected footage.

Abibu reached for the last electronic device and pressed a button.

Rring.

“Warriors, prepare for the holy battle.”

Rring.

“We await your command, sir!”

As the soft Arabic conversation continued, Abibu began to look satisfied.

Rring.

He pressed a button on the device again.

“Today, Korea will feel great terror through our holy battle. Warriors, proceed with honor! Show our greatness to all nations of the world. Let the building before us symbolize Korea’s downfall.”

Abibu, as if delivering a speech, raised his left hand and thrust it forward twice.

Rring.

“Allahu Akbar!”

Rring.

“Takbīr[1].”

After removing his hand from the device, Abibu picked up the neatly folded handkerchief and wiped his hands.

“We shall broadcast the humiliation we endured in Afghanistan on their own channels.”

With a flick, the used handkerchief joined the others in a wooden box beneath his feet.

***

Click.

Sharlan put the blood-streaked knife on the dining table and turned off the stove.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!”

He had set two dining chairs facing each other between the living room and the kitchen, and Smithen was tied to one of them, shaking his head as if to say something. His shirt was in tatters, revealing knife wounds, and clumps of blood were oozing from his thighs.

Screech.

Sharlan placed a boiling kettle on the table.

“You know how this goes. It’s now time to stop the bleeding, right?”

“Mmmph! Mmmph!”

“What's that?”

“Mmmph! Mmmmmph! Mmmph!”

Sharlan’s lips curved into a long smile.

“Smithen, I already know everything about where Kang Chan’s parents are, their security systems, and personnel. Troops are boringly waiting for me outside, too. If you thought that kind of information would entice me, I'm profoundly disappointed.”

“Hnngh! Mmmph!”

Sharlan lifted the kettle's handle with the tips of his fingers.

Drip, drip.

Due to his awkward grip, the kettle tilted, and boiling water spilled onto the floor.

“Oh! Should I clean this up?”

“Mmmph! Hnnnngh!”

Smithen quickly nodded, then violently shook his head with a shocked expression when Sharlan's expression suddenly changed.

"I’ve taken drugs to keep me awake just so I can kill Kang Chan, the man who ruined my life, yet after barely returning from hell, a crazed womanizer is already telling me to clean the floor?"

"Hnngh! Mmppphh!"

Drip, drip!

Sharlan poured water from the kettle toward Smithen's thighs.

"Grrrr—mmmph! Grrr!"

Drip, drip, drip.

Smithen, burying his head and crying out, prompted Sharlan to slowly tilt the kettle even further.

"Think, Smithen. You need to think of a way to bring his parents out tomorrow morning. I need to be able to slash that bastard's heart and ribs, so you better figure out a way for us to meet!"

Drip, drip, drip.

"Grrr! Grrrrr! Grrrrr—Hnnngh!"

"Don't miss this golden opportunity when his attention is elsewhere, Smithen. Think. Think of a way to call out those two moles, who have turned off their phones."

Sharlan gradually moved the kettle toward Smithen’s groin.

***

Chk.

"Forty-eighth floor cleared. Should we continue to send civilians down?"

Chk.

"Proceed as we are for now. Control room, block the lights and fire barrier on the forty-eighth floor."

An agent relayed the situation over the radio to Abibu.

"This is taking so long," Abibu said.

Even he could clearly see what was happening. Descending the stairs of the towering International Building, which was illuminated only by the lights, were people casually chatting with their hands in their pockets.

"Move out."

Abibu rubbed his thumb, index, and middle finger together as he eyed the International Building.

The moment the civilians reached the forty-fifth floor, the bravery of the Islamic warriors would be broadcast from South Korea's International Building to the world.

***

By the time Kang Chan arrived in South Korea, he was already feeling both physically and mentally numb. Fortunately, the night air coming in through the open door instantly cleared his senses.

After opening the cockpit door, he said, "Thank you for your hard work."

The pilot and co-pilot now looked so haggard that Kang Chan wondered if they were the same people he saw in the morning.

Both men stood up and saluted him.

"I used to be a combat pilot, yet I've never freely flown over Russia and China like this before and treated as well as they did at both airports,” the pilot said. “As a National Intelligence Service pilot, I greatly appreciate how you have elevated our country's status, assistant director!"

Kang Chan chuckled. "See you around."

"I'll be eagerly stocking up on stamina until then," the pilot replied.

They shared a laugh. With a nod of gratitude, Kang Chan then disembarked from the plane.

Thud thud thud thud.

Flying is exhausting.

Kang Chan, Seok Kang-Ho, Gérard, and Choi Jong-Il quickly headed toward the helicopter. A counter-terrorism team member stood in front of it, holding a rifle with its muzzle pointed to the ground. After receiving a salute, they boarded immediately.

Thud thud thud thud.

"What's the situation!" asked Kang Chan.

"Still searching!" the agent answered.

Kang Chan nodded. The agent then brought two bags from the back.

No words need to be said in this situation.

Opening the bags revealed black military uniforms, masks, helmets, and other equipment, including K7 submachine guns with a thirty-round magazine, two Colt pistols, large knives, radios, and spare magazines.

Upon getting dressed, he felt as if he had finally returned home after a long and distant journey. As Gérard curiously looked at the Taegukgi patch on his left forearm, the city lights below shone along the road.

Thud thud thud thud.

Kang Chan's eyes, reflected in the helicopter window, glinted sharply.

Why do I feel this way? Is it because I'm dressed and armed?

His heart, which had been unfazed until now, was heavily pounding against his chest.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Kang Chan turned to Seok Kang-Ho. The three men knew what his gaze implied.

Seok Kang-Ho smiled, his eyes glinting.The scar on Gérard’s cheek stretched as he smiled.

Click-clack!

Choi Jong-Il, with a determined expression, pulled the bolt of his gun.

1. Translated into English as "God is greater" ☜

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