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Habib couldn’t believe the company commander’s report.

“A Kanma who had been shot down by an RPG swooped in uninjured? A machine gunner’s neck slid off automatically, and the assistant’s face was crushed with a swing of a hand? Does that make sense?”

Habib was shouting out loud. He was someone who had experience in battles as a field army sergeant. 120 soldiers were defeated by ten soldiers? No, he had seen too much in his lifetime to believe that they had been defeated by a single person. It was impossible unless Lieutenant Commander Payze lost his mind and gave his scouts reeds to hold onto instead of guns.

Habib’s stiff face refused to relax. The wounded soldier who had initially reported the situation was reported to have fallen into a coma. Therefore, there was a high possibility that he had been hallucinating. The person who had destroyed his scouts had disappeared without a trace. The names Azrael and Kanma kept spinning around in his head.

There wasn’t a soldier who survived after being a shot by the villain. On top of that, their traveling speed was miraculous. This was someone who showed the true meaning of a hit and run. Where was he going to find this villain who had disappeared? Although the Sahel region was vast, they’d have to find and kill this bastard or keep them alive!

Meanwhile, Tombye stared at Habib, who was fuming. He had been agreeable to the plan, which involved Gaddafi, from the beginning. However, there was no way a government manipulated by outside powers was going to be fine.

Tombye’s political goal was to establish a democratic coalition. He had believed that a coalition based on population was the only solution to uniting all of the tribes. On the other hand, the hawkish faction, led by Habib, had insisted on establishing an Arab-based government. Habib, who usually abused his strong military background, was the stone in his shoe and thorn in his side.

Now that he had lost a third of his forces, he was no different than a lion without its teeth. Watching Habib fly into a rage over his loss made Tombye want to buy a meal for those Ratel people. Unfortunately, Tombye’s amusement didn’t last long.

“Your Grace!”

His subordinate interrupted his musings.

“Your Grace, I can’t get into contact with the 1st Command. According to the local informants, Goukouni’s army isn’t in Zaura.”

“What? Goukouni isn’t in Zaura?!”

Tombye stood up from his seat, then collapsed back into it. His head was spinning. Habib’s prediction had turned out right. Goukouni was also plotting something. He clutched his haggard face with his two hands.

Unlike Makumbo, Goukouni was a large fish who had once been in presidency. The fact that Goukouni’s army wasn’t in Zaura meant that he was leaving the FROLINAT. He wouldn’t join France’s side immediately, but this served as his declaration to begin an independent line.

Goukouni’s army was the core of the FROLINAT’s strength. His army combined with Makumbo’s forces left them with only one third of their military force. If they switched sides, then the future of the FROLINAT was bound to turn bleak. Now, even the Council of 11 was about to fall apart.

“Ha!”

Tombye buried his face in his large hands and sighed.

Habib shot a hateful glare towards Tombye, who was in despair.

‘That stupid old man…’

Tombye’s careless countermeasures had thrown off his entire plan. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Perhaps this was fate challenging the FROLINAT’s existence.

“Habib, can you meet Gaddafi for me?”

Tombye asked this without meeting Habib’s gaze. Habib felt an urge to punch the old man in the mouth.

“No. I am going to capture the French special forces who were the cause of this entire mess. Including Makumbo, of course. The Sahel is the land of us Muslims, not the land of frogs. Chairman, you should meet Gaddafi yourself. You should make up for your own mistake.”

Tombye, who rubbed his face several times, stood up with a determined expression. No matter what anyone said, he was the Chairman of the dovish faction of the FROLINAT.

“I understand, I’ll leave immediately. You can handle your own work. Salāmu ?alaykum (May peace be upon you)!”

“I’ll be expecting Gaddafi’s reinforcements as soon as possible. Salāmu ?alaykum!”

When Tombye left, Habib called his butler.

“Bring Ahmud out.”

Ahmud had become visibly thinner during the past few days. Despite treating his subordinates’ lives like trash, Ahmud was someone who cared deeply for his own life. The few days he had spent shivering in fear in the underground cell had been hell. Ahmud raised his hand and praised Habib.

“Allah is our only God. My Wakil, you will be blessed and have a seat reserved next to Allah!”

A smile escaped from Habib.

“Ha. Ahmud, stop babbling and put on your military uniform. I’ll give you one last chance. Whether it’s the badgers or Kanma, I want you to bring their heads to me.”

“Oh, Allah, what a wise decision. May your fights on the battlefield be blessed.”

Ahmud stepped back as if her were moving away from hell’s door. He truly had a cockroach’s vitality. Ahmud left the office with a newfound confidence.

The reason why Habib returned Ahmud to his position was because there was no other commander he could trust. High ranking commanders like Musta and Payze, and several others, had been sniped by the bastard called Kanma.

“I will send those frog bastards to hell! Those heathens who bathe in pig’s blood will be sorry they ever messed with me!”

Habib, who was unable to hold back his anger, kicked the UAZ Jeep that was meant for him. The driving soldier, surprised, stiffened like a palm tree. At the sound of gritting teeth, the soldier’s body trembled. Habib was a violent boss. He was a man who killed his predecessor. The soldier felt as though he would wet his pants in fear.

The humiliation Habib had suffered before his competitor, Tombye, was burning his insides. How many soldiers had he sacrificed to those bastards? Over 500 of his soldiers had died. Although it wasn’t difficult to recruit that many soldiers again, it would take time to train them.

The situation would end with him or them dying. If Goukouni had fled Zaura, the northern army would begin to fall apart. Even his reputation had declined.

However, a desert warrior didn’t forget his revenge, even when everything seemed lost. Habib kicked the Jeep once more before he climbed into the car and left in a hurry.

Endoumi Doline, located south west on the edge of Djourab Erg, was 15 kilometers away from Ratel’s camp. Armed soldiers wearing sand colored gandouras climbed the dune like ants in line. The BTR152 also wriggled up the mountain of sand. Once they had climbed the 40-meter dune, they saw a piece of sunken land that was one kilometer in diameter.

“Line up according to your units. Platoon leaders, distribute Jenkems according to each group. The sandstorm will die down soon. Hurry up.”

Ahmud yelled at his soldiers while swinging his gun around. He was a man with extreme luck and had hit the jackpot once more. He had been defeated several times, had faked a report, and had been pummeled by Habib until dust flew. If the subordinate hadn’t stepped in, he would have had a bullet between his eyes.

Ironically, the crushing defeat at Er Ekdim Valley had given him another chance. Not only had he avoided death, he had also been reinstated into command. The Council of 11 had also given him a direct order to annihilate the Ratel team that was rampaging across the Sahel.

He had also received reinforcements from each army for the first time. That showed how much the Ratel team had managed to annoy the FROLINAT’s leaders. He had to take on as much responsibility as he had been given in authority. If not, Habib would shoot him in the head.

Ahmud’s face was dark. Whether it was raccoons or badgers, he’d have to catch them. He, after thinking about the destruction of Payze’s scouts, was frustrated.

However, his luck continued. He received a report that multiple pickup trucks carrying a strange group of people were moving across the Djourab. It was accurate information that reported eight people dressed as locals in three pickup trucks. Ahmud moved swiftly on his feet.

If those bastards went into hiding in the Ennedi Plateau, Ahmud would have problems. He gathered every mobile military force around the targeted region. He even received soldiers from other council members. The three days the Ratel team hadn’t battled were also the three days Ahmud spent gathering his forces.

The number of soldiers the FROLINAT had was more than enough for a brigade. However, Chad’s central northern region was far too large. Furthermore, commanding authorities were divided, making it difficult to mobilize the army. This was the limit of a joint military command.

The FAP’s 3rd army who had gone against the Ratel team had lost a total of 700 soldiers. The FAP’s 1st and 4th armies had also suffered major losses. On top of that, there was a limit to the number of armies which could be aided due to the fracturing higher-ups.

Ahmud, who sat on top of the BTR153 Cupola, gritted his teeth.

“I, Ahmud, was defeated and chased around by less than a dozen frogs?”

He remembered the moment he hid in the underground shelter of the command post at the BTR cabin. His body shook in humiliation. He nearly rolled over and puked in disbelief when he found out that the number of frogs that had entered Djourab Erg was less than ten. Now that he thought about it, those bastards only had three pickup trucks in Guradi Ridge and Ekiya.

His theory that there was a main special forces team behind them was his own cover up story. The bastards who had entered Djourab Erg were the French special forces. This was the conclusion he reached after going over their previous battles and combining the local reports. It was unbelievable, but it was the truth.

The crazy hyena of the Sahel, Ahmud, had been decimated three times by those few frogs. Even his house had been ransacked. There couldn’t be a worse joke or nightmare than this.

Ahmud looked around at the gathered forces around the Cupola. There were three BTR152 units, and a total of 265 soldiers. It was more than enough to crush a few frogs. If rumours spread about this, he would become a laughingstock.

Ahmud didn’t let his guard down. The Ratel’s strength couldn’t be measured in numbers. They were the Legion Etranger’s sniper team they had heard troublesome reports about. Thinking of the Kanma bastard who had flown around at Guradi Ridge, Toko Toom, and Coromunga made the back of his neck break out in chills.

The other bastards who were in the same special forces as the Kanma had similar fighting abilities. The one who had showered them with the mine throwers at Guradi was as fearsome as the Kanma. A villain who launched grenades as precise as a sniper was something daunting.

Ahmud clamped down on his teeth. Whether he was the Kanma or not, one sniper wasn’t capable of changing the battlefield. He, too, was someone who could die when shot by a bullet. He just had to be wary of that sniper. Being conscious of them, he moved every BTR152 he could mobilize in aid. Ahmud was someone who valued his life very much.

It was this or that. If he didn’t catch those bastards this time, it was the end either way. Habib had ordered him to shove a gun barrel into his mouth and pull the trigger with his toes if he failed on catching the Kanma again.

He wasn’t in a position to laugh at Musta. He had become an even more humiliating figure after being crushed three times and having his house stolen. He felt as though he could finally have his revenge once he peeled off those bastards’ skins alive and sprayed salt all over them.

“Commander, we’re ready.”

Receiving his sub-commander’s report, Ahmud’s face turned fierce. This was his fourth officer. He had lost three officers in the span of a month. The Kanma had killed those previous three. As long as the bastards’ positions were detected and being followed, this was the perfect chance to end them.

“Move out, let’s go catch those white pig bastards!”

The 265 soldiers began to move out with their panzer units at the forefront.

Emil left the camp because he was worried about his partner. He had volunteered to stand guard, but Black Mamba was still injured. He couldn’t help but to worry. When he finished climbing up the cliff, the sand in the wind slapped his face harshly. Even the stars began to blink in and out of sight within the strong Sahara winds.

“F****** s***, this wind is acting up tonight,” Emil complained as he stood at the top of the cliff.

He could see Black Mamba sitting down in that uncomfortable position as always. He had tried to mimic him before but had given up due to the pain it caused his legs. Not anyone could sit like a monster.

“Black, what time is it?”

“What, Emil?”

The glow-in-the-dark hand attached to his compass was pointing at three.

“It’s three. Why are you out?”