Black Darapanan Night, Part 2

Abu Sayyaf pushed forward, spearheaded by their armored personnel carriers. The bullets fired by the BLF were repeatedly deflected by the armor, allowing the Abu Sayyaf soldiers to advance safely behind the vehicles into BLF territory.

Karim panicked as he watched Abu Sayyaf press their relentless advance. He had prepared extensively. He had stationed troops along every possible entry route and laid booby traps everywhere. He had believed this would be more than enough to inflict devastating casualties on Abu Sayyaf, but he was wrong. They kept coming, seemingly without end.

Abu Sayyaf's forces were far stronger than anticipated. Not that they were marching in bloodlessly without taking damage; they were suffering heavy casualties of their own. It was simply that their sheer numbers were so overwhelming that the losses barely seemed to register.

The BLF had indeed prepared thoroughly. The booby traps they had planted throughout the area successfully hindered Abu Sayyaf's progress, detonating one after another across the battlefield. They even managed to take out one of the armored vehicles. The ambushing BLF forces repeatedly struck and retreated, cutting down scores of Abu Sayyaf soldiers in the process. Yet, even this was not enough to halt the onslaught. Abu Sayyaf possessed top-tier manpower and weaponry.

Meanwhile, Amir's face contorted into a hideous scowl. This was not what he had envisioned. Their casualties were far too high. He had expected a virtually bloodless takeover, but something had gone terribly wrong.

Amir had made no secret of his plan to attack the BLF. In fact, he had actively spread the rumors, believing it would strike terror into their hearts. With Murad—their absolute spiritual pillar—now dead, he figured that an impending assault by Abu Sayyaf would cause the BLF ranks to fracture and desert. He expected them to scatter in search of survival, knowing their organization was doomed. There had indeed been signs of such movement, and his informants within the BLF had consistently sent reports confirming as much.

Thus, his plan was to put on a grand display of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠overwhelming firepower against a disorganized rabble of BLF remnants, then casually stroll in to claim his prize. True to his plan, he had used his armored vehicles to rain shells down on their headquarters from a distance. He assumed the area had been thoroughly swept and that anyone hiding inside the BLF base would have been obliterated.

But the BLF forces were positioned in places he had never anticipated, and their resistance was incredibly fierce. If anything, Murad's death had galvanized them, uniting them in a desperate, vengeful stand. The losses were already staggering. Those armored vehicles cost a fortune, and too many of his soldiers had already fallen. Yet, having come this far, turning back was out of the question. Retreating empty-handed like a whipped dog? That was absolutely unacceptable.

It could jeopardize his very position as the rebel leader. In a rebel faction, a coup could erupt at any moment. If a leader failed to maintain absolute, ironclad control over the organization, trouble was bound to brew. He could not retreat. Even if it meant bathing in blood, he had to push forward. He ordered his men to unleash their full arsenal. They fired everything they had, pouring every ounce of their destructive power into the fray.

"Boss, what should we do? Shouldn't we join the fight about now?"

"No, wait. All forces, stand by."

"All forces, stand by."

"All forces, stand by."

At my single command, two hundred Damaya soldiers held their positions. The Seoul National University study method truly was foolproof; there wasn't a single hitch. There was only one reason I ordered them to wait: the time was not yet ripe. Both Abu Sayyaf and the BLF still had fight left in them. Though both sides seemed rattled by the unexpected turn of events, they were merely shocked and disoriented, not yet depleted.

What I wanted wasn't a mere victory in battle. I didn't care about the hollow title of having fought and defeated Abu Sayyaf or the BLF. What I wanted was the absolute eradication of both Abu Sayyaf and the BLF. That was my sole objective. And, of course, to scoop up whatever lucrative crumbs fell from the table in the process. So, we had to wait for them to tear each other apart further. We had to wait for more blood to be spilled. Only when both sides had bled so profusely that they could no longer stand—that was when our war would truly begin.

Abu Sayyaf finally breached the BLF headquarters. Having fought tooth and nail to break through, the invading soldiers showed absolutely no mercy. Fueled by sheer malice, they sprayed bullets at everything in sight. Just when it seemed the BLF base was about to fall, the BLF forces that had been lying in ambush elsewhere retreated back to the main base. Previously, they had held off the intruders from their hidden positions, constantly shifting locations to inflict casualties on Abu Sayyaf. But now that the enemy had penetrated the heart of their headquarters, those ambush points were useless. They had no choice but to fall back to the main base and engage in a desperate, close-quarters brawl. A brutal cycle of killing and dying repeated itself endlessly.

Amir ordered an all-out assault. He commanded his men to leave nothing standing—to slaughter every last member of the BLF and leave no survivors. Karim's orders were no different. He didn't care how underhanded they had to be; they had to defend their home at all costs.

"The bombs have been planted, boss."

"Good. What about the Blue Team?"

"The Blue Team's mortars are ready as well."

"Excellent. Make sure they're ready to fire the moment I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠give the signal."

At this very moment, Abu Sayyaf and the BLF were squeezing out the last drops of their strength to slaughter one another. Neither side showed any sign of backing down. Keep it up. The night grew deeper, and visibility plummeted. Yet, the battle raged on, eventually giving way to a brief, exhausted lull. Everyone was spent. This was the moment we had been waiting for.

"Blue Team. Prepare to fire mortars."

"Ready."

"Three. Two. One. Fire."

"Fire!"

Just as the exhausted soldiers of Abu Sayyaf and the BLF were snatching a brief moment of rest, mortar shells began to rain down upon them. It wasn't just a single shell. Dozens, then hundreds, fell in a relentless barrage. Had the shells been concentrated in a single spot, they might have attempted to return fire or regroup, but the bombardment was coming from all directions. Encircling the BLF headquarters, a veritable deluge of mortar fire poured down from every angle. There was no way to counter it. The only option was to run for cover.

"Take cover! Get down!" "Find concealment!"

Karim and Amir both screamed at the same time as they witnessed the devastating bombardment. But their shouts were drowned out, unable to carry over the din. Countless men were mowed down before their eyes. Karim kept shouting, desperately ordering his men to take cover. But mid-shout, Karim suddenly collapsed. Even the man standing right next to him didn't realize Karim had been shot. The deafening roar of exploding mortar shells had completely shattered everyone's senses.

Amir, however, witnessed the scene. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. There's a sniper out there. That sniper was undoubtedly the one who had taken out Murad. They had been played. They had fallen right into a trap. No wonder everything had seemed to fall into place so seamlessly. He bitterly regretted his arrogance and his failure to question the situation. But it was already too late. He had taken a fatal step. I have to retreat. We need to pull back immediately— The moment the thought crossed his mind, a sharp sting pricked his forehead. He raised a hand to touch it. A massive, gaping wound that hadn't been there a second ago now marred his brow. Before he could even comprehend what kind of injury it was, Amir collapsed to the ground, dead.

"The boss is down!" "Amir is dead!" "Retreat! Pull back!" "Retreat! Retreat!"

Having lost their leader, the remnants of Abu Sayyaf hastily decided to retreat. Though their casualties were already catastrophic, they had no choice but to flee now that their commander was dead. But even retreating proved to be an impossible task. Bombs began to detonate along their escape route. It was the very path they had safely marched in on, yet now that they were trying to backtrack, explosions ripped through the earth. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! With every step Abu Sayyaf took, another bomb went off. Just when they thought they had miraculously evaded the explosions and escaped, they found Damaya's Red Team waiting for them right ahead.

By the time the heat from the rain of mortar shells finally began to dissipate, we descended into the BLF headquarters to sweep up the remaining hostiles. Standing on the ground, the scene was entirely different from what we had observed from above. It was far more gruesome and horrific than I had imagined. Well, that's why you should live an honest life.

The Damaya soldiers methodically eliminated the remaining enemies, flushing out the stragglers hiding in every nook and cranny. In the process, they gathered the spoils of war. Piles of rifles, heavy weaponry, and stacks of cash began to accumulate. The haul was surprisingly lucrative. We even secured the armored vehicles. Jackpot. And so, the dawn broke over the black Darapanan night.

"Good work, everyone."

In a single night, the rebel factions of Mindanao had been thoroughly dismantled. Although the preparations had taken a long time and cost a fortune, the results were spectacular. While a portion of our forces remained at the BLF base to clean up the battlefield, the rest marched straight to Abu Sayyaf's headquarters and completely ransacked it.

Since Abu Sayyaf had mobilized every single available soldier for this assault, their headquarters had been left completely unguarded. We walked right in without having to fire a single shot. After thoroughly scouring the base and seizing everything of value, we returned to the Damaya stronghold loaded with loot. We even secured all their documents. With this, the rebel threat was effectively neutralized.

Of course, the New People's Army (NPA) still remained, but they kept a low profile and were currently too weak to pose a significant threat. For the time being, we could leave them be. Not that we would ignore them entirely; we would keep a close eye on them. Our next move would depend on how they behaved. Besides, there was a need for caution before taking direct action against them. The Communist Party backed the NPA. There was no need to stir up a hornets' nest unnecessarily. Still, we would remain vigilant.

Simon's appearance had transformed. He now carried himself with the dignified air of a true rebel leader. Thanks to the war of the black Darapanan night, Damaya had emerged as the ultimate victor. Mindanao, one of the largest islands in the Philippines, had fallen entirely into Simon's hands. Damaya now occupied every corner of the region, absorbing all the influence previously held by Abu Sayyaf ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and the Bangsamoro Liberation Front (BLF).

We also seized the plantations, mines, and other assets that Abu Sayyaf and the BLF had operated. On top of that, we absorbed their political influence. The Abu Sayyaf crowd turned out to be surprisingly meticulous; they had kept detailed records of every transaction and favor exchanged with local politicians. It was all laid out in the documents we recovered. Thanks to that, bringing those politicians over to our side was a breeze.

Even without the blackmail material, the politicians had no choice but to side with us. Politicians are creatures that inherently need a powerful backer to lean on. The only thing that had changed was that their backer was no longer Abu Sayyaf or the BLF, but Damaya. Nothing else had changed. In Mindanao, there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was no longer any force capable of opposing Damaya. We had completely swallowed the island whole.

A flood of new recruits wanted to join Damaya. I intended to accept as many as possible, but the sheer volume of applicants was staggering. In fact, calling it "a lot" was a massive understatement. The response was overwhelming, akin to a major conglomerate's open recruitment drive. The competition was so fierce that we had to administer written exams and physical fitness tests. The primary draw, of course, was the promise of a steady salary.

In truth, the people we were hiring weren't meant to expand our combat forces. We simply needed laborers to work the plantations, mines, and logging camps we had inherited from Abu Sayyaf and the BLF. The original workers were gone, leaving those sites completely deserted. So, we needed hands. They would work the land, occasionally show up for military training, act as reserve rebel soldiers, and then go back to their agricultural duties. It was a perfect arrangement—a win-win situation for me.

Moreover, because many locals resonated with Damaya's past actions, the applicants felt a sense of pride, believing they were joining a righteous cause even though they were technically signing up for a rebel group. But honestly, isn't it only natural to get paid for your labor? Is paying a fair wage really enough to throw all of Mindanao into such a frenzy? This place is truly bizarre.

Of course, I wasn't the one paying their salaries. Simon would handle that. Damaya had just devoured two rebel factions that were several times its own size. The spoils gathered after the battle were astronomical, and we had seized all their businesses intact. In other words, Damaya was now financially self-sufficient. They could operate perfectly fine on their own without my financial backing, and they had more than enough funds to pay those wages.

Zamboanga, Philippines. I summoned Patrick to Zamboanga. Although the people around me might have seemed like a homogenous crowd of shady characters to an outsider, I kept them strictly categorized in my mind. Candy Tour, the hotels, and the travel agency formed one cluster. GoGo Casino, the online gambling platform, Candy Coin, the cryptocurrency exchange, and the money laundering operations formed another. The arms dealing and the rebel forces made up the third. As for the drug smuggling, that was just my own private, lucrative side hustle.

I did my best to keep these categories from overlapping. For instance, I would never assign Scott to handle GoGo Casino business, nor would I task Ana with arms dealing. I preferred to keep the affairs of each sector contained within its own boundaries. Since none of these were exactly noble pursuits, there was no reason to spread the word around. Of course, that was just my personal guideline, not an absolute rule. After all, I had asked Patrick to introduce me to various contacts on numerous occasions.

Patrick was incredibly versatile. I had occasionally considered keeping him by my side as a personal secretary, but I ultimately decided against it because I knew his talents were far more valuable elsewhere. I was well aware that Candy Tour's smooth operations were largely thanks to Patrick's efforts.

A brilliant graduate of the University of the Philippines and a master of networking with connections everywhere, Patrick had been acting as our de facto chief of staff. There was a very specific reason I had summoned him all the way to Zamboanga.

"Excuse me?"