Mercenary Black Mamba

A human's hand consisted of eight carpal bones, five metacarpal bones that supported the palm, and 14 phalanges. Nerves and muscle veins were concentrated at the points where the hand and fingers connected, also known as the points where the metacarpal bones and phalanges joined. His veins and tendons ripped, while his muscles tore the moment his bone shattered. His whole life, Nick ordered people around at the point of his chin. When could he have ever experienced such torment? Nick's soul flew to the nine realms.

"Kuuaaaaagh!"

An agonizing scream echoed throughout the mansion. His eyes widened as though they would rip, and drool dripped down his chin. The pain felt like a pulled spinal cord, which activated his nerves and slammed into his brain.

"Nick, you've already lied twice. I'll ask again. What was your original share?"

His voice was monotonous, as though he was reading a book. Even amid his drifting consciousness, Nick felt goosebumps spread.

"2…20 percent," Nick stuttered.

"See? A normal transaction begins with the truth. The Samaria farm's annual production is 3,100 tons, and 20 percent is 620 tons. In the past five years, the market price was 4,000 francs per ton. That is equivalent to 1,500 tons in dollars. I learned that the value of the cotton shares is based on five year production periods. Your shares are worth 12,400,000 francs. I will take over that."

"Fine. I'll hand it over."

Bloody tears poured down on Nick's heart. While he had never met a robber like that, it was fortunate that he could hand over his shares at base price. Still, Black Mamba wasn't done calculating.

"Now that we've multiplied, we should subtract. Nick, do you want to try subtracting yourself?"

"Subtract?"

Nick's mind snapped back to reality at the strange turn of conversation. Focus returned to his blurred eyes.

"You illegally took 70 percent of the shares that should have been Edel's. Don't you have to subtract the eight years' worth of income you illegally took?"

"Wh…what kind of nonsense is that? Let's fight each other in the Great British court."

"Hoo!"

Black Mamba barely managed to suppress his rising killing intent. Like a human who was up to his neck in greed, the man killed his brother and stole the farm.

"Nick, I have the knife, and you're the f****** swine with its legs tied. A butcher doesn't even care if the pig squeals. The reason why I'm making this offer like a gentleman is that Edel has requested me to keep you alive. Unfortunately, I didn't answer Edel's request."

Crack—

The gold ashtray crumbled in Black Mamba's hand like a piece of paper. Nick shivered. He could almost imagine his head in place of the ashtray, crumbling in that devil's hand.

"O…Okay. I admit it is an illegal profit. I'll subtract 10 percent of my shares. I'll take just 10 percent."

Black Mamba was impressed. That b*stard was the kind of person who'd grab a lump of gold at the edge of a cliff instead of a rope.

"Good, let's subtract again from the 6,200,000 francs."

Black Mamba was relentless. Nick regarded wealth and life as equals. Taking his wealth away was like tearing off pieces of his skin, which only tormented him more.

"Wh…what more do you need to subtract? Don't you have any conscience?"

Nick's face turned blue. Wealth protected a noble's prestige and title. A noble without wealth was no better than a commoner. He couldn't regard the b*stard, who was trying to get away with the last 10 percent of his shares, as a human.

"Nick Wayneright, did you kill your brother because of your conscience? Rudrey suffered seven years of mental torment after losing her father. I'm taking 6,200,000 francs as Rudrey's solatium."

"What? So you're saying you'll steal my shares without offering a single penny in return? This is a robbery! I never told anyone to kill my brother. My brother's death was voluntary manslaughter that resulted from his management mistakes."

"Robbery? Steal? You tainted my honor. Consolation money of 500,000 pounds, and a fine of 500,000 pounds for your repeated perjury—a total of 1,000,000 pounds will be recorded in my book."

"Wh…what nonsense are you talking about!" Nick leaped in his seat.

That b*stard was worse than Shylock. Shylock was a fair businessman who lent money and claimed rights by utilizing contracts. Still, that b*stard acted like a debtor and even went out of his way to steal the wealth in his homeland. What kind of evil man was that! He would be robbed off of his entire wealth. Nick grew determined to fight.

"A pig is done according to the butcher's will. I'll decide whether this makes sense or not."

Boom—

The air in the room stirred once.

Whoosh—

The air surrounding Nick swirled. His resonance waves compressed the air like it was rolling up a scroll.

"Ugh, what, what is this? Hu-hup."

Nick's face turned red as he struggled to breathe. Black Mamba glared at the lifeless-looking Nick, who was trembling. He'd never seen such a greedy b*stard like him in his entire life. Not even his uncle could measure up to that b*stard. He wondered whether the man's greed could overcome the fear of death.

"Kugh-kugh!"

Nick's face turned blue. He was experiencing acute respiratory failure due to the lack of oxygen.

"Nick, do you still not understand? I've already looked into the wealth that you moved over to England. The apartments under your son's name, Andrew, are worth 2,000,000 dollars alone. Won't your wealth mean something only when you're alive?"

"Please save me!" Nick nodded frantically.

His eyes, which had rolled to the back of his head, reflected the overhead lights as they flickered like a zombie's.

"Very well, I'll let you live."

Whoosh—

The air that rushed out from the compression swirled in the surrounding.

"Kuh, kuh, kegh-egh."

Nick forcibly inhaled despite his teary eyes and runny nose.

"Nick Wayneright, can't you endure a little curse as a noble of England?"

Ughhh, this guy's the devil.

Nick didn't have the leisure to answer him. Despite experiencing a respiratory failure, his brain was still busy recovering from the pain lingering in his nerves. The words of the b*stard across him whirred as though he was underwater.

"I, Dong-bang-bull-pae, am the great priest who can suppress a guy like Barungo with a single finger. I can put a curse on you without even touching you, as long as you're on Earth. This is a test-run. You get what I mean?"

"I…I get it. Hoo, uugh!"

Having experienced the fear of death, Nick nodded his head frantically.

"Confess the details of your plan, about how you cooperated with spellcaster Barungo to kill sir Colton. If you don't remember certain details, I'll help you remember them immediately. Hahaha!"

Black Mamba smiled wickedly. 30 minutes had passed. Black Mamba's face creased as he looked through the confession.

Black Mamba grabbed the riding crop hanging on the wall. The riding crop was a stick made from rattan wood, then hardened with natural rubber sap. The all-torture technique would work well with that tool.

"You were threatened by Barungo and didn't realize he'd kill your brother? What a tenacious human you are. A human's brain is truly mysterious. Do you know that one can unlock the memories in their subconscious mind before the door of death? It's very annoying for me, but I'll help."

Nick's face creased devilishly. Just thinking about the golf stick that Namir used caused goosebumps to rise on his skin. Those b*stards were all barbaric and psychos—like boss, like subordinates.

"L…look. I am a noble of the Great British Empire. Don't you think I should protect my honor too? You'll have a hard time cleaning up if you harm me. I'll give you 500,000 pounds. Let's compromise."

"I'm the one who should be threatening, but you're threatening me instead? I don't care about complicated matters since I'm someone who uses my body. Not even the great warrior, Namir, can stand three minutes against me. I need you to think harder than that. There's not enough time."

Black Mamba glanced at his watch, then raised the riding crop.

Whoosh—

A powerful impact rang in the air.

Crack—

The riding crop swept past an iron donkey statue, which decorated the living room. The donkey's head landed on the floor.

Thud—

"Uh!"

Nick was shocked. The devil b*stard had to be a magician who could perform many tricks. A light riding crop turned into a fearsome weapon in his hands. He'd forgotten that before him was the devil who sliced down 100s of people. The remaining pride he had as a noble of the Great British Empire quickly crumbled.

"Kuaaaaak!"

Just then, a dreadful scream rang throughout the mansion. It was Barungo's scream. Nick felt his hair rise.

"Aaaaaaagh!"

Another overwhelmingly long scream followed. He finally realized what the b*stard meant by rough subordinates. The British court was far away, while the devil's fist was before him. He'd become disabled or lose his life from stubbornly fighting back.

"Fine. What do I need to do?" Nick muttered helplessly.

"First, write the share transfer agreement. It will involve 90 percent of the Samaria farm shares under your name. The receiver will be Sbard Gulbeig."

Huu, this b*stard's name means one who chased gold in the darkness. It's a perfect name for him, whoever named him. Scary b*stard, I hope he doesn't appear in my dreams.

Nick wrote and signed the contract. He lost 20 years of his fortune instantly. Nick's face aged at least by a decade.

A piece of white paper landed before Nick.

"State down the circumstances behind sir Colton's death once again. Your statement will be compared to Barungo's statement. Since you're an educated noble, you should know about the prisoner's dilemma. Whether you'll be beaten to death by a stick or live as a noble in Britain, it depends entirely on your decision."

"Whoo, you're not going to make me stand in court with the statement, right?"

"You don't have to worry about that. I hate judges, prosecutors, and lawyers more than a robber who killed his own brother."

"Hmph!"

Nick's face creased at his harsh words. The consequences of his greed were severe. He immediately lost 90 percent of the Samaria farm's shares, estimated at 150,000,000 francs. Moreover, he had to write a 1,000,000 pounds loan. He even had to write a statement about how he killed his own family member with his own hands. He'd basically lost his entire fortune and gotten himself leashed. Nick Wayneright frothed at the mouth and fainted the moment Black Mamba nodded in satisfaction.

While Nick Wayneright received a gentlemanly treatment, Barungo and Wadanka were severely tortured. Sun WooHyun released his pent-up anger on the spellcasters. A long statement was written. Barungo and Wadanka were messed up to the point that they could barely breathe.

[The farm owner, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, will execute overseer, Barungo, and butler, Wadanka, at noon. All employees gather at the mansion by then.]

The employees who received the news gathered in groups of three and five.

Waves of dark-skinned humans surrounded the front yard of the mansion. The overseer and butler were people who abused their unshakeable power. The employees were happy with the idea of escaping abuse and fear. People with eyes had all gathered.

In the middle of the grass yard were crosses where Barungo, Wadanka, and the cook were hung. Below the crosses were heaps of dried cotton branches.

"Ombuti, the number of employees is less than expected."

According to the lackey, the number of employees and their families living on the farm totaled up to around 2,500 people. Including children, the people who had gathered were less than 1,800.

"The remaining Vodou followers and leaders all fled. Thanks to wakil, we've been relieved of the task of picking out rotten date palms."

"That's nice. How many more employees are required to operate the farm normally?"

"We've employed 1,500 people from the company, and 2,000 from those outside the farm during harvest season," Sun WooHyun replied.

"Mohammad!"

"Yes, Mohammad is here, sir."

"Your brothers in Toulon, do they have experience in cotton farming?"

"Syria and Hatay produce Asian cotton. While it is of a different variety, they're people who farmed cotton their entire lives."

"That's good. Move the Orthodox Christians and the Kurd tribe here, all of them. I'll prepare the transportation."

"Thank you, God! Praise Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa. My brothers without a home have finally gained one."

"There is no God besides Allah! I thank Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa for your grace. Bismillah!" Ibrahim and the rest bowed down together.

"What, I'm only doing this so we can all survive together."

Ombuti read the verdict.

[Eight years ago, Barungo, the Vodou spellcaster, conspired with Nick Wayneright. He killed the previous farm owner, sir Colton. He spread a forbidden religion, created a Vodou sanctuary in the church basement, sacrificed 45 people, used 43 people as spellcasting materials, and turned 20 people into zombies. He attempted to kill the legal farm owner, Rudrey Edel, and created the evil drug yorunba, injecting it into 500 people. For attempted murder of the legal farm owner, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, he will be executed by fire. As Barungo's disciple, the Vodou spellcaster, Wadanka, will be executed by fire. The cook, Kajay, worked with the evil spellcaster as a Vodou follower and attempted to kill the farm owner's representative. He will also be executed by fire.]

No one spoke as Ombuti continued reading.

"Ddu-bai-buru-pa, please order the execution."

"Proceed!"

The employees poured oil over the piles of cotton branches. Sun WooHyun threw in a torch.

Crack—

The flames roared.

"Kuaaaaa!"

"Ddu-bai-buru-pa, curse you! You will be loved but be incapable of love, and have a wife but remain childless. You'll be praised by countless people, but you will still live a lonely life!" Barungo shouted.

"Whatever, b*stard, worry about yourself," Black Mamba mumbled as though he couldn't care less.

Although it was a faint cursing, he felt offended.

"Hooray, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa!"

"The armbands disappeared! We're free!"

"God, thank you for sending away those Vodou devils."

Gruesome screams and cheers echoed in the night sky. The waves of dark-skinned humans circled the crosses. They were the employees who had been abused by the 10-member and 100-member representatives. Their cheers and screams of freedom shook the night sky.

With a gloomy expression, Black Mamba looked down at the people cheering and the people burning. The 1,000s of employees cheering were those who had praised Barungo, the person currently burning on the cross.