Mercenary Black Mamba

Once the calcium channels opened up, Wazalan's heart was subjected to electrical shocks, causing his heart rate to gradually rise.

Ba-dump, ba-dump...

The faint little contractions gradually gained momentum. The heart began pumping more and more blood, and his dying lung cells began to revive. Wazalan's body temperature rose higher, and his limp diaphragm became taut again.

Mu Ssang sensed a life breathing again through his palm. What a relief that he was not too late. Feeling relieved now, Mu Ssang withdrew his hand. The satisfaction from knowing he had saved a life filled his chest to full.

His teacher used to worry about accidentally killing slugs and worms with his shovel while digging up the ground. What the teacher taught him back then was right – Mu Ssang killed a hundred villains, so he should do a good deed in return by caring for at least one living creature.

Wazalan ended up receiving a baptism of purification in his heart. And now, he would never have to worry about any cardiovascular issues again for the rest of his life. He must have saved a village or something in his previous life, because his luck proved to be as good as Chairman Margerie's.

Wazalan's diaphragm expanded, pushing his lungs upwards.

"...Kuk, cough!" He coughed and wheezed heavily as his eyes shot wide open.

"Woaaaah! Group leader came back to life!"

The operatives of the vigilante corps and the strike force cried out loudly. A dead man had come back to life. Everyone in the crowd that witnessed this miracle all went on their knees and started prostrating.

"Our king has arrived!" Ombuti roared loudly. "Let Lord Dubaiburupa's glory be eternal!"

The Yoa Lake's surface trembled from the roars of dozens of people.

*

Walter made his move while the commotion at the back garden's entrance was still in progress. He smirked insidiously while scanning the empty banquet venue. Even the chefs had rushed over to the entrance, leaving the place empty.

"Looks like even the heavens don't plan to forgive the bastard and the slut!"

Whether it was yesterday or today, things seemed to be going his way. Walter pulled out a cigarette case from his inner pocket. His hand cut the tip off a Cohiba Siglo, trembling ever so slightly. Getting poisoned by Langsam Tschüss meant a certain death.

He pried open countless people's chests, removed their organs and even severed their limbs all in the name of saving their lives. Never before in his life did Walter use his own hands to kill someone.

Nothing was better than his favorite cigar to calm his mind. The aromatic and flavorful smoke filled his lungs. His boiling chest cooled down rapidly.

The problem moving on would be Novatopia's sages and the 'god's warriors' sitting near the seat of honor. It had only been a week since he was assigned to this post, but even then, Walter already heard all the rumors surrounding them.

Once Black Mamba and Edel were dead, they would start suspecting Walter since he was the only one left behind at the venue.

'I am too nervous.'

Walter, who was wordlessly circling the seat of honor, began blaming his excessive mysophobia. Even if Black Mamba's subordinates began focusing on him later, all Walter had to do was play dumb. Circumstantial evidence was not good enough to convict him of the crime.

Walter filled the wineglass with about 10cc of Akra and carefully removed the capsules of Langsam Tschüss from the cylindrical ampoule. He then dropped them into the booze. The solvent for Langsam Tschüss was alcohol, and Akra was a pure hard liquor boasting 42% alcohol content.

The coloring of curare included in Langsam Tschüss began dyeing the colorless Akra, turning it a slightly bluish hue. With this, Akra was no longer a figurative booze strong enough to poison you, but a literal poison that could kill ten elephants with its toxicity.

Walter finished this series of actions, then wiped away the thick droplets of sweat caking his forehead with his palm. He has crossed the line of no return now. Black Mamba and Edel deserved to die, yes, but Walter was still supposed to be a doctor. He derived no pleasure from the preparation of killing humans. He felt this sudden thirst claw his parched throat, and even hunger began voicing itself.

An appetizing aroma began stimulating his olfactory senses. The origin of that aroma happened to be the bowl of bouillabaisse by Black Mamba's seat, meant to be served as the main dish. The rich broth boiled down after hours of heat and those large prawns were whetting Walter's appetite.

He then recalled the conversation between the chefs.

'That's the bouillabaisse Edel cooked!'

Unfortunately, that bouillabaisse was not meant for him, but for some ignorant yellow monkey of a mercenary, Black Mamba. Edel was not his woman, but a corrupted angel that cooked for another man.

His chest suddenly clogged up, and tears leaked out from his eyes. He did not mean to, but still ended up tasting the broth with a spoon. It tasted so wonderfully rich and creamy.

'It would taste even better to dip my hometown's garlic bread in this!'

Walter fell into a daydream of him having a meal together with Edel. Like a hypnotized man, he began gorging himself on the soup. A single streak of tears trickled down his dried cheek. He always believed that Edel would be his woman someday, yet that wish turned out to be unattainable.

A dead woman could not cook any bouillabaisse, after all.

"...Huh? Dammit! What the hell did I just do?!"

Even before he realized it, Walter had finished all of bouillabaisse's broth. The bowl now had only fish, chunks of potatoes and some other vegetables remaining. Everything would be for naught if Black Mamba noticed that something was wrong.

While feeling dismayed, Walter hurriedly scanned the table, and spotted a dish that looked similar to bouillabaisse. It was the maeuntang that Yijihana racked his brain and worked his butt off to recreate.

The difference between the two dishes was that, while you needed to brew the bouillabaisse's broth beforehand, you did not really need to do so with maeuntang. As for the broth itself, it was a mixture of miscellaneous meats and vegetables for both dishes, anyway.

"There's another bouillabaisse?"

Obviously, Walter did not know what maeuntang was. Although it did look a bit different outwardly, that dish resembled bouillabaisse so much with its thick broth and its dark crimson coloration. Without hesitation, he began pouring the maeuntang broth into Edel's bouillabaisse bowl.

"Perfect!"

Walter grinned in satisfaction. And so, all the broth of the saffron bouillabaisse meant for Mu Ssang ended up in Walter's stomach instead.

He wasted too much time getting lost in useless daydreaming. Walter quickly poured 80% of Langsam Tschüss' solution into the "bouillabaisse", then carefully coated the inside of the wineglass with the remaining poison.

The glass gleamed in this faint bluish hue. Walter then dried the wineglass with the heat from the fire meant to keep the food warm. Once the poisonous liquid dried out, even its color seemed to have disappeared for good.

"Adios. I hope you two end up in hell!"

Walter put the wineglass down by Edel's spot, and that was the end of his preparation.

He heard a loud cheering coming from the back garden's entrance. A bunch of black men that worshipped a measly little mercenary...? What a flabbergasting situation this was. But then again, this inferior race even deified a bloody lizard, so nothing was out of the imagination for them.

Walter genuinely thanked God for his Aryan bloodline.

"Cheers, my foot. It's tears for you, morons!" Walter snickered derisively while deeply sucking in the cigar smoke. Never mind eternity, Black Mamba's life was scheduled to be over in a month.

Walter scanned the banquet venue one more time and confirmed that no one had witnessed his actions.

"That damn Hippocratic Oath, you can feed it to dogs for all I care."

Walter reined in his momentarily-weakened mind, then turned around to leave. The only thing remaining for him was to spectate Black Mamba and Edel enjoying the taste of his Langsam Tschüss. This tingling anticipation shook him from the top of his head all the way down to his toes.

*

"Wazalan, you dumbass!" Aishe, thick tears dangling near her eyes, took a swipe with her palm.

Slap!

"Ouch?! Boss, that hurts so much!" Wazalan cried out after getting slapped in the face for no good reason.

"Wa-hahaha!"

Everyone exploded in peals of laughter then.

"Are you feeling alright now?"

"Yes. For some reason, my body feels so much lighter." Wazalan tilted his head in confusion.

"Wazalan. Lord Dubaiburupa saved your life today."

"Oh! Lord Dubaiburupa!"

Wazalan quickly got down on all fours to prostrate. This was his first time meeting Mu Ssang face to face. Wazalan's mind went haywire from the sudden entrance of his king accompanied by a massive divine beast to his right while commanding a red Genie to his left. A king that seemed like a human being yet not 'human' at the same time.

"Wazalan, congratulations on acquiring a new life. But you must treasure this new life Dubaiburupa has gifted you. You should retire for today and get some rest." Edel held Wazalan's shoulder and helped him stand back up.

"Ah! Miss, you mustn't use your precious hands to touch this lowly peasant!" Wazalan cried out in alarm when Edel supported his torso.

"Stop with such nonsense, Wazalan. Dubaiburupa said this before. There are no men above men, and there are no men below men. I'm merely a doctor that handles the blood of her patients, that's all."

While supporting Wazalan's torso, Edel began wiping away his snot, drool and foam caking his face and chest. Their current posture reminded observers of Michelangelo's Pieta.

"Woah! Our merciful angel, hooray!"

"Oh, our Lord Dubaiburupa's glory be eternal!"

Sparks seemingly began shooting out from the eyes of the soldiers watching. Some among them even began tearing up. Chefs joined them in shedding tears, too.

A prophet with the hand of God and his Miss with the hand of mercy. A saint who spent all of his fortunes to rescue refugees and an angel who unhesitantly handled the dirty foam of blood... The pair was their king and queen. Who would not be moved to tears by such a revelation?

"Edel, you might turn into a leader of a cult at this rate." Mu Ssang stared at Edel with a troubled look on his face.

"But love, you're already the leader of a cult. You can basically do anything you want besides figuring out what's in my heart, can't you?" Edel smiled softly with her eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

Mu Ssang looked up at the skies above with an embarrassed face.

They said that being out of sight made you grow distant, didn't they? He suddenly began missing Hae Young's pheromones that had gotten faint by now.

'Am I just another one of those males in the end, then?'

He thought himself a fool for thinking that a person could only fall in love once. On one hand, he felt far too unfamiliar with this face-tickling emotion.

Edel's expression became dreamy. That was the side of him she had fallen head over heels with. Although he was capable of performing unexplainable miracles, Dubai remained firmly as a human being, and she simply could not stop herself from loving him.

Once the night was over, the stories of Dubai would spread all over Novatopia. The reason behind him revealing his ability despite onlookers was quite simple – he wished to step into the light now.

Edel was indescribably happy that her beloved would not have to cover his hands in blood anymore.

*

Although a storm had come and gone, Wazalan's revival resulted in the banquet's atmosphere becoming even more lively. The MSF doctors began discussing passionately about Dubaiburupa's ability to resuscitate a dead person. After a round of well wishes and praises, the air surrounding the seat of honor was slightly heavier than before.

Mu Ssang asked a question. "Aishe, did Wazalan suffer from a chronic disease?"

He discovered that Wazalan did not seem to have any problems in his heart's blood vessels. In fact, his heart seemed clean and no foreign substances were clogging his blood vessels. That's why he could not understand the cause of a sudden heart attack.

"Sir. Wazalan is a healthy person. Members of the vigilante corps always undergo two hours of training and 20km-long runs every day. Such a training regime should be difficult for someone with a weak heart or problems with his blood vessels to endure. Honestly, I can't think of a reason either, sir."

"Mohammad. There is no such thing as a result without a cause. As soon as the day breaks, investigate this matter and report back to me."

"Understood, sir."

"Who is in charge of the hygiene and medicine of the vigilante corps?"

"Miss Edel is personally handling that, sir. In fact, Miss Edel is truly devoted to caring for the soldiers, and..."

"...Sounds like the discussion will get more complicated, then. Talking about unpleasant topics will only worsen the mood. I shall listen to your report in the conference room at a later date." Mu Ssang quickly cut Ombuti's words of praise and picked up his wine glass.

He kind of felt sorry for this old man, who was trying to become Edel's shield just in case some sparks of blame landed on her.

"Love, a historic day like this calls for strong liquor, don't you agree?" Edel began pouring a lot of Akra into his glass.

"How about some wine for my Rudrey, then?" Mu Ssang picked up the bottle of Sciaccarello.

"Alright. My wish came true today, so I'd like to get drunk for a change." Edel replied while pushing forward her wine glass.

'...Mm?'

Mu Ssang discovered minute imperfections in her wineglass just then. The wineglass's refractive index highlighted by the sodium lamps illuminating the back garden wasn't quite uniform.

His eyesight was eight times stronger than a regular person. More than that, a sniper's eyes were always observing too.

He activated his Inner Eye. The presence of a thin coating inside the wine glass became clear to him. It did not matter whether that was the result of chefs not properly removing the soap residues or not, a foreign substance remaining on the glass was not a desirable outcome in his view.

'...Cohiba Siglo!'

Mu Ssang's sensitive nose picked up the faint smell of Cohiba Siglo still lingering in the air. Quite a few among the Black Culture currently sitting around the seat of honor did smoke, but none of them was ballsy enough to smoke in front of Edel.

However, Mu Ssang did not want to sour the pleasant atmosphere. If there was something suspicious, he simply had to get rid of it, that's all.

Whoosh-

The wineglass in Edel's hand slipped out only to be replaced by another one. It was Mu Ssang's Stealing Guard of Hundred Hands at work. No one noticed Mu Ssang's sleight of hand just then. Not even Edel herself realized that the wineglass in her hand had been switched out.

*

"Dubai, how is the bouillabaisse?"

"Wow. It's amazing. I can pick up the flavors of both the bouillabaisse and maeuntang at the same time. I have to say, the chef's skill is something else."

Mu Ssang was impressed. The dish was supposed to be bouillabaisse, yet the broth was that of the spicy maeuntang. This had to be at the peak of a fusion dish.

"Hohoho. You're not lying, right?"

"Of course I'm not lying. I can taste the flavor of France and my hometown at the same time."

"Well, I cooked the bouillabaisse myself," Edel replied with pride clearly visible on her face.

"Huh?! Really?"

Mu Ssang's reaction was rather exaggerated.

"Yes, sir. Miss Edel gave it her best this afternoon." Ombuti chimed in, his face full of smiles.

Despite her best efforts so far, Wakil had been more or less lukewarm to Miss Edel, but he finally acknowledged her today. Sure, it was nothing official, but this was already something, wasn't it! It was a victory for Edel, then.

Ombuti raised his glass high and cried out. "For Lord Dubaiburupa and our Miss!"

"Cheers!"

The members of Black Culture downed their drinks in one go.

*

'Heeheehee. Enjoy your food and drinks while you can. You won't have many more chances to enjoy them, after all.'

Walter inwardly cried out in elation. Finally, those two despicable people had consumed his Langsam Tschüss. They would experience limb-distorting pain and die in about three weeks at the earliest, or five weeks at the latest.

His face was filled with a sadistic grin.

"Excuse me, Walter? Why is your face looking like that?" Harris, in charge of the gynaecology department, asked in a worried voice.

"What do you mean, my face?" Walter fumbled around touching his own face. His hand came away soaking wet. "...Huh? Why am I sweating so much?"

The desert's temperature dropped rapidly after sunset. Even in this part of the Sahara's Ennedi region, the air did get noticeably chillier in the evenings. In fact, the temperature would drop below 15℃ in the early mornings. So, him sweating like this? It was unthinkable.

"Harris, I think I have a cold. Do you have any aspirin on you by chance?"

"H-hey, Walter? Walter!"

Harris hurriedly grabbed and shook Walter as the latter began weakly mumbling some things, but none of his words was comprehensible by then.

"G-rrrr-rrrk!"

The sounds of phlegm gurgling leaked out from Walter's throat. Intense pain surrounded his heart and quickly swept across his entire body. His limbs became paralyzed while his nerve cells became separated from his muscles.

[Argh! But, why am I...?!]

His words remained trapped in his throat.