Ch.508Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

A Reverse-Coup that Makes the Foreign Ministry Weep, the Defense Ministry Shocked, and the Intelligence Agency Faint. Countless people are witnessing this historic moment.

Six foreign wanted fugitives arrived in the capital driving a tank (again, emphasizing it was “voluntarily donated”).

The federal mechanized units and military police gathered to welcome the guests (who were never invited).

And diplomats who had finished evacuating civilians and non-essential personnel, wondering when they could leave this godforsaken place, came out to watch.

A cold silence hung over the street in front of the Presidential Palace.

Just one tank against hundreds of federal troops. The scene was reminiscent of the legendary moment when a certain general, famous for his long beard, broke through five checkpoints to find his brother.

“……”

The federal staff officer glared at the rebels with intense eyes. With reliable mechanized units like a hearty bowl of soup and sorcerers at their side, he believed they could win against any opponent.

At that moment.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m telling you. The Grand Magician…”

“Hmm…”

The commander, who had been whispering something with the sorcery commander, cleared his throat with a “Ahem” and spoke loudly.

“Everyone, charge!”

At this command, the federal sorcerers mounted their magic carpets and charged all at once.

Backward.

The so-called technical term “reverse propulsion,” an arcane technique passed down in the magical world since ancient times! (No such thing exists)

As the sorcerers charged (to the rear), the mechanized units and military police stationed in front of the Presidential Palace also began to slink away. (???: Sir! Move aside, the tank needs to pass! / ???: Who double-parked this truck? I might just run it over with my tank)

The engineers who had been diligently setting up barricades and razor wire for three hours charged away on forklifts. The infantry clung to the rear of the tanks and advanced with light, scurrying steps.

“…?”

“…What is this.”

Just as the watching diplomats and reporting journalists (foreign press, hiding for fear of arrest) were uttering bewildered sounds.

The lone tank left on the empty road moved its turret and suddenly fired a clean shot at the Presidential Palace!

Windows shattered with a crash. Concrete, glass, and wood fragments exploded and fell into the garden.

The turret spewed fire and the tracks crushed the iron gate as it passed. Like a North Vietnamese tank that demolished the Presidential Palace in Saigon, or like the armored division of a mustached art school reject who took France in six weeks.

As the six wanted fugitives fired celebratory shots (125mm high-explosive shells) to congratulate the birth of the new coup regime and began their house visit.

“Oh, fuck yes!”

The diplomats observing the situation couldn’t contain their cheers.

Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

Leaving behind screams like “Why do these things only happen during my term?” and “The diplomatic relations we’ve built over 16 years…!”

The tank (which had actually backed up) crushed the iron gate of the Presidential Palace and began to cross the garden.

Trees cracked! Statues crumbled!

After destroying all kinds of landscaping, the tank advanced vigorously and soon demolished the main entrance with a powerful knock, shattering the door with a “BOOM!”

“Run for your lives!”

The federal soldiers guarding the Presidential Palace screamed and began to flee in all directions, while the wanted fugitives, armed with metal pipes and maces, jumped out of the tank.

“Tell the boss to come out here!”

The spy gentleman raised his voice, making the lobby echo.

Judging by his extremely pissed-off voice (and the metal pipe in his hand), he appeared quite angry, and indeed he was in a very enraged state.

Since hospitality customs are a local culture that elevates the host’s honor.

After driving for six hours (actually, the driver did the driving) to celebrate the birth of the new military regime, the host was nowhere to be seen?

This was extremely displeasing as a guest! An atrocious act that was unbearable to witness.

Therefore, Frederick, a guest (who was never invited) enraged by such poor hospitality, called for the host while wearing “Barbara” and holding a metal pipe (prepared in advance).

“Kasim! Your son has returned! To deliver democracy to the Zamrian Federation!”

“For liberty!”

Camilla and Frederick burst into the Presidential Palace, causing a ruckus in tandem. Ignoring the sigh of the elderly magician.

Seeing this, the guards fled with even louder screams, displaying very unmanly, womanish behavior.

Bang-! Clang-! Thud…!

After subduing all the undisciplined guards with their impressive metal (pipe) skills, the group captured the federal military officers and had a manly_honest_conversation.

“Where is Kasim!”

“…? We don’t speak foreign-“

An officer claiming he doesn’t speak foreign languages! Could there be a more irresponsible excuse? Frederick, currently experiencing his second round of military service, couldn’t help but lament at the officer’s pathetic excuse.

Studying TOEIC all night for long-term selection, taking courses to be sent abroad. It seemed like just yesterday he was dancing around trying to learn as many foreign languages as possible. How could the officers of the Zamrian Federation’s military not properly speak even one foreign language!

“No, this is unbelievable!”

Of course, he too had been scolded by his intelligence agency seniors for his poor local language skills, but that wasn’t important now. Because currently, Frederick was not in the position of learning a foreign language, but in the position of scolding a junior who couldn’t speak foreign languages.

A busy bee has no time to grieve, and a grown frog has the right to scold tadpoles! (No such thing exists)

After tightening the loose frontal lobe screws of the federal officers with an 8-inch monkey wrench, Frederick decided to search for Captain Kasim himself, leaving behind the officers who had fallen into a deep sleep like new country children, with 8 weeks of recovery ahead.

Fortunately, the host was waiting for the guests not too far away.

“Official car…?”

In the backyard of the Presidential Palace. The familiar rebel leader seen on the news was busy working on a car, right in the guests’ line of sight.

Checking oil, gathering documents. Stuffing all his belongings into the trunk and seats while sweating profusely, he looked exactly like someone preparing for an urgent departure.

The guests’ tops blew off at the host’s shocking attitude.

Good heavens!

Guests have arrived, and instead of coming out to greet them, he’s busy preparing to leave!

“No basic manners! Very rude! Dishonorable!”

Akande, a local from the Mauritanian continent who had promised (though he never did) his foreign friends an awesome Zamrian Federation full course, was greatly angered and smashed through a window to rush out.

He ran out like a tiger, slapped the driver’s (rebel) face hard enough to burst his eardrum, while Lucia lifted the official car and flipped it over to protest to the host, and Francesca went even further by tying up Kasim and dragging him before them.

“Mmph, mph…!”

“Come on, man. I warned you to flee six hours ago, and you’re still in Umsalga? How outrageous…”

“Looks like he had no intention of running away!”

Camilla and Frederick surrounded the host and unleashed a torrent of harsh words. How could he still be in the capital when they had warned him to flee, this guy clearly had no intention of escaping! And so on.

For reference, according to his prior warning, the time allowed for escape was 24 hours in total, so there were still 18 hours remaining. But right now, they didn’t care whether it was 18 hours or 18 minutes.

They had driven for 6 hours to get here! Even fired celebratory shots! And this ungrateful host was trying to escape instead of welcoming his guests!

(Of course, if they had brought a normal car instead of a tank, magic festival fireworks instead of 125mm high-explosive shells, and gift baskets of snacks instead of metal pipes, Captain Kasim might have generously welcomed them and opened the front gate himself)

A vicious dictator and a host who mistreats guests. An unforgivable human specimen.

“Unacceptable! Insult, must be repaid with revenge!”

Akande, the local who had intended to show a Mauritanian full course more splendid than a Busan full course, was extremely angry.

With both hands full of jerry cans, he disappeared into the Presidential Palace, poured gasoline, and burned down the entire Presidential Palace along with the history that was no different from a symbol of dictatorship!

While Akande was busy burning down the Presidential Palace, Frederick was lost in a wonderful dilemma.

Military rebellion, hurting my feelings, being ungrateful, and various other charges. Considering all these crimes together, there was only one possible verdict.

As Frederick (not a military legal officer) was considering the sentence and pondering whether to use a metal pipe, an 8-inch monkey wrench, or a flanged mace (which Lucia would have to lend him).

“Just a moment, everyone.”

Saint Lucia, the only cleric among the six wanted fugitives, stepped in to stop Frederick who was about to open the rebel leader’s skull.

“We agreed on 24 hours in advance. Only 6 or 7 hours have passed. There are still at least 17 hours left.”

“So what?”

“Attacking now would be… somewhat cowardly, wouldn’t it?”

She was saying that one should not break one’s own promise. A righteous principle straight out of a moral textbook! (Promises should never be broken)

Even the Grand Magician supported the saint’s opinion, so the spy gentleman, who was about to perform “cranial surgery” (technically brain damage), could only let out a sigh of frustration.

“Can’t we just capture him now and announce it later? Everyone used to write their vacation diaries all at once a week before they were due, right?”

“…I question how smashing someone’s head can be compared to academy vacation homework, but I think the saint’s opinion is quite right.”

While heated debate (murder plotting) was going on about whether to crack his head now or 17 hours later.

“Well, how about we try this?”

Francesca, the intellectual of the magical society who had been quietly listening, cautiously raised her hand and offered a suggestion.

Everyone slapped their foreheads in realization and decided to follow her amazing proposal.

*

“Come on, Camilla, do it properly.”

“It’s my first time, what do you expect?”

“Have you never seen a welding torch before? The flame is leaking like the bladder of someone with urinary incontinence! Spray it strongly! Come on, blast it!”

Uncomfortable with the welding mask, Camilla adjusted it this way and that before focusing on her work again.

The flame shot out and the red-hot metal began to melt.

While Frederick was giving instructions like a supervisor, Camilla continued her work, applying the welding rod here and there.

“AAAAARGH! MY LEGS-!”

The rebel leader who witnessed the flame as hot as a blast furnace with his bare eyes let out a cheer.

Perhaps finding the sparks that landed on his bare skin pretty, his feet couldn’t stay still for a moment.

Seeing Kasim enjoying a lively tap dance, Frederick, who was sipping coffee under his welding mask, kicked the steel frame with his military boot and cursed.

“Shut the fuck up! We said we’d let you out in 15 hours, and you’re already making a fuss. Camilla!”

“Yes?”

“Finish the welding quickly and let’s go inside. Stop getting sunburned and let’s get some sleep.”

As Camilla smiled brightly and continued welding!

Just as all kinds of inventions are born from the hands of soldiers with seagull-shaped rank insignia.

Dozens of steel single-family homes (objects civilians call “cages”) for Captain Kasim and the rebel leaders appeared in the blink of an eye!

“EEEEEK!”

“AAGH! MY EYES!”

“Fuck, this is illegal detention!”

The rebel leaders who had achieved their dream of home ownership screamed with joy, and if that wasn’t enough, their eyes turned bright red and tears flowed.

Congratulations, congratulations.

The free housing supply (which would be dismantled after 24 hours) that the Zamrian Federal Government couldn’t achieve in decades was accomplished in just 5 hours by foreign philanthropists!

*

The 6-hour delivery of democracy was finally complete.

This was a more precise and swift delivery than the mustached art school reject Führer’s 6-week trip to Paris, the North Vietnamese government’s 20-year journey to Saigon, or the Iraq trips of the father-son US presidents who loved to break and destroy things.

Excited by the prompt, accurate delivery notification, local residents came out to the streets and cheered. They fired celebratory shots into the sky (with live ammunition), danced with police and soldiers (beating them up), and visited neighbors’ homes to share warm feelings (hunting down collaborators).

Federal government ministers imprisoned in military facilities near Umsalga were released. Resistant members of parliament and generals who had opposed the coup and been dragged to military prisons were also freed.

“…So Kasim has finally been ousted. Well then, who’s taken over the Presidential Palace this time?”

“G-General… Actually… It seems foreign fugitives drove a tank into the Presidential Palace.”

The released officials, who had endured harsh treatment for a week, could only raise question marks. They already knew that crazy Kasim had issued arrest warrants for foreign visitors. The announcement came out less than two days after his successful coup.

But what happened that made those foreigners oust the rebel leader?

Did Abas intervene? Or the Kiyen Empire?

Perhaps the Grand Magician stepped in to handle it.

But why was it over in just 6 hours?

I heard they stole a tank.

Why a tank?

Good grief, the country has gone completely mad…

So what do we do now? And so on.

The officials who barely managed to collect themselves hurried to converge on the capital. They needed to see with their own eyes what had happened.

And the scene of Umsalga, the capital of the Zamrian Federation, that appeared before them was.

“EEEEEK!”

“AAAAARGH!”

“AAAGH…!”

The former rebels screaming in metal cages set up in the former president’s backyard pool, being roasted by electricity.

-Whoosh…!

-Crackle…!

The Presidential Palace engulfed in flames and crumbling away.

As the stunned officials shed tears of emotion (not really) unable to say a word.

The dance of magnificent flames was a supreme spectacle, and the sight of colorful sparks flying in all directions and adorning the sky was like plum blossoms blooming modestly.

Ah, so this is the paradise that the corrupt politician exiled for drunkenness (in Korean history, this person is called “Songgang Jeong Cheol”) saw when suffering from alcoholism.

Frederick, who was cooking Zamrian-electric-fried-chicken by channeling magic recorded in “Barbara” through a metal pipe into the pool, took a drag from his cigarette and exclaimed in admiration.

“I didn’t know the Zamrian Federation had such a beautiful field-burning culture.”

The heartless hosts and rebel leaders were being roasted to a golden brown, and the history of dictatorship was burning in a handful of gasoline.

“…Dear God.”

One of the officials staring at the burning Presidential Palace closed his trembling eyelids and whispered in admiration.

Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!

The sight of him shedding tears of emotion (absolutely not) made everyone’s hearts swell. That’s why Camilla covered her mouth with an emotional expression, and the Grand Duke covered his face with his hands while muttering curses.

The six wanted fugitives drove the donated tank back to their hotel.

Leaving behind the night sky of Umsalga, which was hotter (due to the fire) and noisier (gunshots fired by citizens into the sky) than ever before.

The 6-hour “delivery of democracy” was thus completed in a peaceful and orthodox manner.

It was the moment when the dictatorial government that had tormented the Zamrian Federation for a week was completely finished!

*

“Major Frederick Nostrim. You are hereby dismissed from your position as Defense Attaché, effective immediately.”

“…What?”

But my attaché career is also over.