Through their scopes, the distant silhouette of a gunner was the only thing keeping them pinned to the ground. Everything glowed green beneath their night vision goggles, turning the empty field into a ghostly landscape of shadows and static. Cold pre-dawn air brushed against their faces as insects buzzed softly through the darkness. Somewhere far away, the faint rumble of engines echoed across the dry terrain.
"Hold your fire."
"Copy that."
"Not every situation deserves engagement," Renji whispered through the comms while keeping himself low beneath the brittle bushes at four in the morning. No one moved. Ahead of them, the gunner sat behind a mounted ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft cannon, its twin barrels pointed toward the night sky like the fangs of a monster waiting to wake. Even from this distance, the weapon looked monstrous. One burst from that thing could shred the entire field apart. The team silently monitored him, bodies pressed flat against the cold dirt to avoid exposing their silhouettes. Behind them, Lee Joon adjusted the scope of his suppressed sniper rifle after spotting movement in the distance.
"Truck incoming. Ten o'clock. One hundred yards."
Renji kept his eyes forward.
"Team, wait for my signal. we were going to crawl slowly."
"Copy, sir."
Slowly, headlights emerged from the darkness. A dusty pickup truck rolled toward the gunner, its engine growling softly through the silent field.
waited. Patient. Watching for the smallest opening. Then the gunner turned his head toward the approaching truck. "Go, go," Renji whispered into the radio. Immediately, the seven mercenaries began crawling in formation, dragging themselves carefully through the dirt. Every movement was slow and controlled — elbows digging into the hard ground, rifles held tightly above the dust. Then suddenly— A flock of wild ducks exploded from the tall grass. Violent wings thundered through the darkness as the birds scattered into the sky. Every man froze. Not a single breath. The gunner immediately turned toward the disturbance. He grabbed the large flashlight beside his feet and switched it on, sweeping the beam slowly across the field while tightening his grip around the AK-47 hanging from his shoulder. The light moved closer. Closer. Then— A coyote burst from the dry grass and sprinted across the field. The gunner tracked it with the flashlight for several seconds. Meanwhile, the seven mercenaries remained completely motionless beneath the dead bushes, fingers tense around their weapons, waiting for the moment gunfire might erupt. The beam passed dangerously close over Renji's position. But the thick shrubs and uneven terrain concealed them well enough. For a few long seconds, the gunner kept staring into the darkness. Then a voice called out behind him. "Hey, this the mosquito coil you were asking for." One of the militia fighters had stepped out of the truck carrying a small box. The gunner clicked off the flashlight and slapped a mosquito against his cheek before turning away, already dismissing the disturbance. Renji slowly raised part of his face above the dry bushes, eyes locked on the two distracted fighters. He waited. One second. Two. The moment their attention shifted completely toward their conversation, Renji spoke. "Team, continue." Without another word, the mercenaries resumed crawling through the darkness, Without another word, the mercenaries resumed crawling through the darkness, dragging themselves silently across the cold earth. Dirt clung to their sleeves and gear as they advanced inch by inch beneath the cover of night.
After putting roughly sixty meters between themselves and the militia position, the team finally stopped.
Renji slowly raised his head and scanned the distance through his night vision. Everything glowed in shades of green. Then he spotted it — a lone tree standing several meters ahead, its branches swaying gently in the wind.
"Team, we move to the tree at three o'clock, one at a time. Nikolai, standby," Renji whispered into the comms.
"Copy, sir."
"Copy."
The wind swept across the dry terrain while the distant cries of nocturnal birds echoed through the night. Far behind them, the militia fighters they had bypassed now looked barely larger than half an inch through Renji's vision. Even so, a single mistake could still expose all of them.
"Once we reach that tree, that's where we can finally start walking," Renji said in a low voice. "Elias, you go first."
"Copy."
Elias immediately moved out, keeping his body low while gripping his rifle tightly against his chest. He advanced carefully, stopping every few seconds to listen and scan the surroundings before continuing forward again.
Step by step.
Closer.
Until he finally reached the tree and crouched beside it.
Renji moved next, following the exact same pattern Elias used. Then came Dang, followed by Hazlan, Lee Joon, and Kamon Kao.
Once positioned near the tree, Lee Joon slowly raised his sniper rifle toward the distant militia gunner. Through the scope, the gunner's head rested perfectly inside the crosshairs. His finger hovered near the trigger, steady and patient.
"Your turn, Nikolai," Lee Joon said quietly over the comms.
Still lying flat on the ground, Nikolai tightened his grip on his submachine gun before slowly pushing himself forward. Staying low, he began advancing toward the tree with careful, deliberate movements.
No sudden motion.
No unnecessary noise.
Because out here, one careless step was enough to get everyone killed.
Once the entire team finally gathered beneath the tree, they allowed themselves a few precious seconds to rest. Heavy breaths escaped through their masks as they tried to calm their nerves after the tense crawl across open ground.
Renji scanned the horizon before speaking over the comms.
"We move now. Once the sun comes up, we'll be completely exposed out here."
No one argued.
They immediately pushed forward again, disappearing deeper into the wilderness before daylight could betray their position.
The Jungle Region of Zarakhanda
7:30 AM
After several kilometers of nonstop movement, the team finally reached the outer edge of Zarakhanda's rugged steppe. Endless dry grass stretched before them toward distant snow-capped mountains.
Dang pulled the tablet from his tactical backpack, powered it on, and swiped across the screen. The full map appeared, showing their current position. Renji leaned in closer to study it.
"Forty kilometers before we reach the village," Dang said, pointing beyond the mountains. "Do we contact the insider yet?"
"Not yet," Renji replied. "We'll reach out to him later."
"Team, take a short rest and eat."
Beside a rocky outcrop, they set up a small portable cooker and began reheating their ready-to-eat meal packs in boiling water.
"When I was still in the service, my team used to cook taro leaves in fresh coconut milk we harvested straight from the jungle," Elias said, sitting on a rock while waiting for his turn.
"Field food always tastes better when you're exhausted," Kamon Kao added. "After walking twenty kilometers, even plain leaves feel like a feast."
While Dang set up his small solar panels to charge the drone, Hazlan finished his meal.
"Make sure it's Halal!" Dang teased. Nikola chuckled softly.
"Relax," Hazlan replied. "If you ever see me chasing goats across the plains, then you can start worrying."
Everyone laughed quietly, careful not to make too much noise—except for Lee Joon, who was positioned forty meters away, hidden in a patch of dry grass, keeping watch over the area.
After they finished eating, Dang powered up a portable laptop and connected to the satellite link. He searched for news about Zarakhanda, then typed "Faruq Zarakhanda."
An image appeared: an elderly man seated with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a white turban and a loose, dark robe. He was barefoot.
The caption under it read: "The next leader of Zarakhanda."
"This is the man we're after," Dang said.
"Yeah… and it looks like he has a future," Renji replied.
" West is seeking for a new supreme leader," Nikola added.
"We'll take him down anyway if necessary" says Renji.
Renji tapped Dang on the shoulder.
"Start contacting the Informant," he said, already preparing his backpack.
"Copy, sir."
The team began packing up. They carefully brushed sand over their footprints, erasing any trace of their presence.
An hour later, Renji spotted a pickup truck in the distance through his telescope. It was an old red 1992 Toyota pickup racing across the steppe straight toward their location. two men were riding in the back, armed with AK-47s, their faces covered. They looked like militia fighters from Zarakhanda.
The pickup slowed as it neared their position, its tires cutting through the dry grass and dirt, leaving a long trail of dust rolling across the steppe behind it. The engine growled before the vehicle finally came to a stop roughly twenty meters away from their position.
No one moved.
The two armed men in the back kept their rifles ready but lowered toward the ground. One of them climbed down from the truck bed and scanned the area cautiously.
"Sandstorm" he shouted across the open plains.
Renji narrowed his eyes and stepped slightly forward from behind the rocks.
"Flies at night."
Silence.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. The wind swept across the dry grass while both sides stared at each other. Then the militia fighter gave a small nod and raised his hand.
"It's them."
The tension eased instantly. One by one, the team stepped out of cover and climbed into the pickup without wasting another second.
Meanwhile…
In southern Zarakhanda, Faruq's compound lay hidden like a wound the forest refused to heal. High reinforced fences surrounded the base, with watchtowers at strategic points where armed guards scanned the endless green jungle. Inside, the layout was orderly and efficient, yet the air remained thick with tension.
A Toyota Hilux pulled up to the compound. A fighter jumped out and rushed toward a large tent.
"Commander!"
Inside the tent, a man slowly opened his eyes, still half-asleep.
"Commander, an entire village is refusing to cooperate!" the fighter reported urgently.
Faruq said nothing. He stepped back inside the tent for a moment, then emerged again.
"They refuse because you are incompetent," he said coldly.
In one smooth motion, he raised a 9mm pistol and shot the fighter in the head. The man dropped heavily to the ground. Everyone nearby froze, eyes wide with shock as fear rippled through the compound.
Faruq turned and went back into the tent. He wrapped his turban around his head, grabbed the AK-47 hanging on the wall, and stepped out again. As he passed the bed, he struck the bare back of the woman lying face-down. She jolted awake.
"Where are you going?!" she asked.
Faruq ignored her and walked out.
Outside, fighters were already pouring out of nearby tents and climbing into the pickup trucks. At the front, one man carried a white flag bearing a flaming sword and an Arabic emblem.
Engines roared to life.
Seven pickup trucks sped out of the compound, carrying more than sixty militia fighters armed with M4 rifles and submachine guns.
-Back on the Mercenaries
11:30 AM
The ride became rough almost instantly. The truck bounced violently over uneven ground and scattered rocks, forcing everyone in the back to hold tightly onto the metal rails. Dry grass brushed against the sides of the vehicle as they passed beneath the shadow of low hills.
Several minutes later, the pickup slowed near the foot of a hill and finally came to a stop.
"This is as far as we go," one of the militia fighters said.
The team climbed down one by one, their boots crunching against dry soil and loose stones. The pickup wasted no time after dropping them off, its engine roaring as it pulled away and disappeared behind the uneven terrain.
After only a few hundred meters of walking, Renji suddenly raised a hand, signaling everyone to stop.
Before reaching the edge of the elevated ground overlooking the area below, the team slowly lowered themselves and carefully scanned the surroundings. No one spoke. Only the wind moved through the dry grass around them.
Then Renji noticed movement in the distance.
One man.
Then another.
Then a third.
Three figures standing below, spread apart as if guarding the approach to the village. Their rifles hung loosely, but their eyes remained alert, watching the area.
"Lee Joon, stand by," Renji said quietly.
Lee Joon immediately adjusted his position and brought his sniper rifle forward, resting it against the ground as he aligned his scope toward the men in the distance.
Meanwhile, Renji, Kao, and Elias began moving forward. Slow. Silent. Their rifles raised as they disappeared into patches of dry grass and uneven rocks. Behind them, Dang and Hazlan stayed in position, waiting for further instructions while keeping watch over the area.
Minutes passed.
One by one, Renji and the others reached their positions without making a sound. Hidden among rocks, grass, and shadows, they became nearly invisible against the terrain.
Renji pressed a finger against his earpiece.
"Your turn."
Lee Joon's finger slowly tightened around the trigger.
Thump.
The suppressed shot barely made a sound.
One of the fighters suddenly jerked before collapsing face-first into the dirt.
The other two barely had time to react. Confused, they turned toward the fallen man—
Then hands suddenly clamped over their mouths from behind.
A blade drove into one fighter's side. Another struck flesh a split second later. Their eyes widened as muffled sounds escaped their throats before their bodies went limp.
At the same moment, Renji rushed forward, grabbed the sniper's target by the vest, and quickly dragged the body away before anyone farther ahead could notice. He pulled the dead fighter behind a thick patch of dry grass and dead vegetation, hiding him from sight.fter clearing the area, one by one, lumapit sila sa edge, in silent movement, as they standing beyond the rise of the land, a small village came into view of the mountains, its scattered houses sitting quietly at the foot of the hills like they had been hidden from the outside world. Smoke rose from a few rooftops while narrow dirt paths cut through the settlement.
After clearing the area, the team moved forward one by one in complete silence. Keeping low, they approached the edge of the rise and carefully looked over the terrain ahead.
The village finally came into view.
A small settlement sat at the foot of the mountains, its scattered houses looking almost forgotten, isolated from the rest of the world. Thin streams of smoke drifted from a few rooftops while narrow dirt paths twisted between the homes.
Then they heard it.
Faint voices.
Distant shouting carried by the wind.
The team exchanged glances immediately. Something was wrong.
"Elias, Kao, Nikolai, Hazlan, with me," Renji said quietly.
He turned toward the others.
"Dang, I need eyes from above."
"Copy, sir."
As the five mercenaries began descending from the high ground, Dang dropped to one knee and pulled a compact drone case closer. Lee Joon sat beside him, watching the surrounding area while Dang quickly powered the device on.
His fingers moved across the screen.
Several systems came online.
He activated signal masking and anti-detection measures to reduce the drone's visibility against surveillance and satellite feeds.
A few seconds later, the small drone lifted silently into the air. It climbed steadily, its movements smooth and controlled as it disappeared into the sky where almost nobody would notice it.
On the monitor, the movements of the five men on the ground became clear as they entered the village.
Renji's eyes shifted toward a cracked concrete wall nearby. Painted across it was a large smiling portrait of President Emmanuel.
WE WILL PROSPER
The faded words stretched across the wall beside him.
The team continued moving carefully along the sides of the houses.
Several civilians froze after noticing them. Fear immediately appeared in their eyes.
Renji quickly raised a hand and gave a small hand signal. Friendly. Stay quiet.
A woman standing near a doorway stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding. She tightened her arms around her husband and child without saying a word.
Dang's voice suddenly came through the comms.
"Eclipse, multiple Tangos moving toward your position. Recommend maintaining concealment."
"Copy."
Renji immediately signaled toward a nearby house.
The team slipped inside.
The moment they entered, they saw an old woman sitting beside a young girl. Both of them looked frozen in fear, staring at the armed strangers that had suddenly appeared inside their home.
Elias slowly raised a finger to his lips.
"Shhh."
Neither of them moved.
They simply stared back.
Then...
BANG!
A loud crash echoed from outside.
Then another.
BANG!
Several militia fighters were kicking open doors from house to house, dragging civilians outside. Angry shouting echoed through the village. Crying followed shortly after.
Renji looked toward the little girl sitting beside her grandmother.
"Hey..." he said quietly, waving his hand toward her.
"Come here. Come."
The little girl hesitated, looking toward her grandmother first. The old woman slowly nodded.
The child stood and walked toward Renji with small, nervous steps.
Renji gently guided her behind him as the others quickly moved into position.
Hazlan and Elias pressed themselves against the wall beside the doorway. Kao crouched near a cabinet with his rifle raised. Nikolai slid behind a stack of old wooden crates while Renji lowered himself near the corner, keeping the little girl hidden close behind his back.
Everyone stopped moving.
Everyone stopped breathing.
Heavy footsteps approached outside.
Then came another violent kick.
BAG!
The wooden door burst open.
Several militia fighters stormed in.
For a split second, Renji's muscles tightened.
One wrong movement.
One glance.
That was all it would take.
But the fighters only saw the old woman sitting alone at the table.
She looked back at them with tired eyes, unmoving.
One militia fighter stared at her for several seconds.
The tension became unbearable.
Renji could hear the little girl's breathing shaking behind him.
Then the fighter clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Forget it."
He turned around.
A few seconds later, the footsteps faded away.
Only then did the team slowly release the breath they had been holding.
Renji moved slowly to the window and carefully peeked outside.
From his position, he saw rows of civilians being herded through the street. Armed men surrounded them on both sides, guiding them forward like prisoners.
He raised his hand to his ear and pressed the radio.
"Dang, where are the civilians being taken?"
A brief pause.
Inside the drone feed, Dang zoomed in on the movement below. A large group had formed in the open area of the village—clearly a controlled gathering point, surrounded on all sides by armed guards.
Dang zoom out the village on the monitor, His voice was steady, but focused. "They're being pushed toward the central open field. Coordinates match the village's gathering zone."
A few seconds passed as he adjusted the feed.
"Renji, listen carefully," he continued. "There's heavy militia presence forming a perimeter. They're not just moving civilians—they're consolidating them."
Another pause.
" Take the east alley behind your position, stay close to the wall line. It'll lead you toward the edge of the field without crossing the main street."
The drone camera shifted slightly, highlighting a narrow route between two buildings.
-At the Village open field
"Where is the pastor?" Faruq shouted.
His voice cut through the village square like a blade. He paced slowly in front of the crowd, boots crushing the dry dirt under him. Around the civilians stood armed militia fighters, rifles raised, sealing every possible escape. Mothers held their children close. No one dared lift their heads.
"I will bury every one of you!" Faruq roared, his eyes burning with fury. "Where is the pastor?!"
Suddenly he fired his rifle into the air.
BANG!
Screams broke from the crowd. Some dropped to their knees, others covered their heads in panic. Dust rained down from nearby roofs as fear spread through the square.
Then a man slowly stepped out from the line of civilians. His hand rose into the air.
Silence followed.
Faruq turned his head to the right and stared at him. For a moment, his expression changed—not calmer, but curious. Like a predator finally seeing movement from its prey.
He walked toward the man until they stood face to face.
"So you're the reason these people are about to die?" Faruq said quietly, almost smiling.
The pastor looked directly into his eyes.
"Even if I tell them to submit to your religion..." he said, his voice steady, "...they would rather die than betray their God."
The smile on Faruq's face melted away like wax under flame. Without breaking his stare from the pastor, he barked over his shoulder.
"Amiri!"
A fighter came running.
"Commander," Amiri said, breathing hard.
"Get the gasoline."
A ripple of terror swept through the crowd. Their cries rose into a single, haunting wail that echoed across the dry field. Two militants slung their rifles behind their backs, snatched heavy gallon containers from the truck, and sprinted toward the tightly packed civilians. They unscrewed the lids and waited, eyes fixed on Faruq.
"You've had enough time!" Faruq roared, walking slowly in front of the trembling crowd. His right hand gripped his AK-47, barrel raised to the sky. "Yet you still refuse the one true god!"
He locked eyes with the men holding the gasoline and gave a single, sharp nod.
The fighters began pouring. The sickening smell of fuel flooded the air as streams of gasoline soaked the shoulders and heads of the civilians. Women threw their faces to the heavens and wept openly. Men clutched tattered Bibles, reciting verses through cracked voices while their children screamed and clung to their legs.
Faruq's voice rose above the chaos.
"I will give you one last chance!"
-Meanwhile
From the second floor of a nearby abandoned house, Renji and his team had a clear line of sight.
"Looks like a public execution," Hazlan muttered, peering through his scope.
Renji snatched the telescope from him. His jaw tightened as he watched the second batch of gasoline being poured.
"Look more genocide" Then his gaze locked onto one man—white turban, AK-47 resting casually on his shoulder like a trophy.
"Son of a bitch," Renji whispered. "It's Faruq." He passed the scope back to Hazlan. "Jeanne's probably not in that group."
He keyed his comms, voice low and firm. "Team, hold your fire. No one moves, no matter what you see. This is not part of the objective."
-Back with the crowd
Faruq's blood boiled. Not a single person was looking at him. Every face was turned upward—hands raised, tears streaming, lips moving in desperate prayer as if they expected salvation to descend from the sky itself.
"Watch!" he snarled into the pastor's face.
"Amiri!"
"NOW!"
Amiri pulled a lighter from his vest. The flint sparked. A small, deadly flame danced to life.
He drew his arm back to throw it—
CRACK.
His hand exploded in a mist of red. For one horrifying second, Amiri stared at the ruin of his wrist, eyes wide with disbelief. Then the pain hit. His scream tore across the field while holding his risk that has no hand.
"SNIPER!" someone bellowed.
Chaos erupted. Fighters scrambled to shield Faruq, firing wildly into the air and toward the distant. Bullets cracked overhead as the crowd screamed and dropped to the ground.
"Burn them! Burn them now!" Faruq roared, even as his men dragged him backward toward the black Toyota Hilux.
One fighter broke away, sprinting toward the vehicle. He snatched a box of matches from the dashboard and turned back toward the soaked crowd, determination carved across his face.
Suddenly, his head snapped sideways. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Another militant raised his rifle toward the civilians—
A round punched through his skull. He dropped instantly.
A third fighter tried to ignite the fuel.
Before the flame could even leave his fingers, a bullet tore through his head and sent him crashing to the ground..
"RUN! BACK TO THE BARRACKS!" one of the Militants shouted.
They shoved Faruq into the back of the Hilux. The driver slammed the accelerator to the floor. Tires shrieked and spun violently before catching, launching the vehicle forward in a roaring cloud of sand and dust that swallowed everything behind it.
The moment the convoy broke, panic exploded through the crowd. Three of the five militant trucks tore away at full speed, leaving the rest of the fighters stranded. A few terrified militiamen ducked behind their parked vehicles, rifles clutched in shaking hands.
"The Christians are escaping!" one fighter screamed, crouching beside a truck wheel. In rage, he whipped his rifle up toward the fleeing civilians, but a single high-powered round punched through his skull. He dropped instantly, limp and lifeless.
From the shadows of a narrow alley, Renji and his team emerged like ghosts—silent, lethal, and coordinated. They advanced in tight formation, rifles raised, unleashing disciplined semi-automatic fire. The sharp, staccato cracks of their weapons ripped across the open field.
From the right flank, Elias squeezed off precise shots. One militant spun violently as a bullet tore into his chest. Another fighter tried to return fire, swinging his barrel toward the team—only to have his head explode in a red mist as Hazlan's round struck from the left.
Two more militants tried to fight back but were cut down in seconds. Their bodies convulsed violently as the bullets tore through them, then collapsed in a heap behind the trucks.
The last fighter suddenly threw his rifle aside and raised both hands high.
"Surrender! Please, I surrender!" he begged, voice shaking.
Renji kept his M4 trained on the man's head. The field fell deathly quiet. Then, without hesitation, Renji squeezed the trigger.
The fighter dropped sideways, dead before he hit the ground.
"We won't gain anything from prisoners anyway," Renji said flatly, lowering his rifle. Sweat streamed down the team's faces under the blazing sun.
He tapped his earpiece. "Dang, status on the surrounding area?"
"Civilians are scattering — most ran back to their houses or inside the church," Dang replied. "No hostiles in sight."
"Where's Lee Joon?" Renji asked as Nikolai searched one of the bodies.
"On the rooftop, 180 meters out. We're coming to you now."
Moments later, Dang and Lee Joon emerged from the alley, walking calmly toward the group. Lee Joon's sniper rifle was slung casually over his shoulder, and a small, satisfied smirk played on his lips. The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly as the full team regrouped.
Renji started walking toward them.
Then — without a word, without even breaking stride — Renji's fist cracked hard across Lee Joon's face with brutal force.
The sharp impact echoed like a gunshot. Lee Joon's head snapped sideways as blood sprayed from his split lip. The whole team froze in stunned silence.
Nikolai lunged forward and grabbed Renji's arm. "Whoa—!"
Dang quickly stepped between them, arms outstretched. "Easy!"
Lee Joon staggered but stayed upright, slowly touching his bleeding mouth, eyes wide with shock.
"You knew the consequences," Renji snarled, chest heaving, voice low and venomous. "But you still pulled that trigger. They might execute Jeanne because of what you did!"
Lee Joon said nothing at first. He only stared back, blood dripping down his chin.
"My orders were clear!" Renji shouted.
"I couldn't just stand there and watch them burn those people alive," Lee Joon finally answered, voice quiet but firm.
Elias exhaled heavily.
"Enough. Let's just hope Faruq pins it on a rival faction."
"His rivals also hate these people!" Renji added sharply.
His words hung in the air. The entire team fell into a heavy, uncomfortable silence