Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 303
Black Mamba smiled with the Vajra in hand. According to his limited physics knowledge, the Vajra was an incredible item as it divided the composition of atoms. He was sure that the Concretus had invented it for a specific purpose.
He’d only used the item as a weapon ever since his escape from Aleppo’s underground cave. He was the modern human who couldn’t figure out the purpose of the object created millennials ago, and the modern human who had dug it out of the ground and used it as a killing weapon.
It was no different from a chimpanzee using a fountain pen to dig up a white ant’s nest. He was nothing but a slightly stronger existence in the chimpanzee world. That was also the reason why Black Mamba didn’t consider himself special.
“Shall we see what those smelly b*stards are up to?”
He shoved the Vajra into the iron door. It went right through as though the door was made out of mud.
As if it was water, the iron door was sliced apart. A circle, which was the size of a manhole, appeared.
The three middle-aged men gasped. While they were aware of Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s abilities, iron was iron and not water or mud.
Black Mamba got into position and moved his resonance waves.
The resonance waves, which swirled once around his body, flowed into his right fist like a tide.
His fist propelled like a shell out of a cannon.
The sliced circle disappeared. A hole, which was big enough for a person to pass through, appeared.
Ombuti and the rest caught their breaths once more. The iron door, which was as thick as one’s fist, was dismantled instantly. It was hard to believe, even after they had witnessed it happening before their own eyes. Ombuti shook his head after checking the door’s thickness. It was 120 millimeters thick.
“Allah al-hayat, Allah al-hayat! Only Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s power is fair in this world.”
Ombuti and Ibrahim kneeled and began to pray. Ombuti looked up at Black Mamba in awe, as he stood like “Abu l’hawl.”
Hoo, master’s grown even stronger. How much stronger will he get?
While Ombuti had witnessed many abilities beyond that of a human in the Sahel, he felt that Black Mamba had grown even stronger in the past year.
That person’s my master! He grew proud, as though he was the one with the abilities. Ibrahim and Mohammad were no different, also infected by the Ombuti disease.
A faint light poured out from inside. A horrible stench that induced nausea followed them. The combination of the musty smell and the tanginess of blood attacked his senses.
Before anyone started protesting, Ibrahim and Mohammad glanced at each other and jumped into the hole. They couldn’t let their master jump into a place filled with unexpected dangers. Although they couldn’t imagine anything capable of harming their master, servants had their own duties.
The two separated to the right and left respectively and started searching.
Black Mamba nonchalantly entered the hole. An underground space, which was at least two times larger than the building outside, showed itself. The rows of weak oil lamps on the wall struggled to chase away the darkness. The smell of burning oil stabbed at his nose.
In a hall made of bricks where 100s of people could participate in a ritual, there were isolated spaces on both sides. There was a large wooden cross painted in red at the center of the hall and an open-mouthed skull at the top. The dirty symbolic items that were spread across the floor seemed more childish than strange.
There were all kinds of life-sized wooden animal carvings along the wall, and skulls and femurs surrounded the parody painting of Christ and his 12 disciples.
Enveloped in the childish yet eerie atmosphere, he could hear the curses and wailings of lingering souls. It wasn’t rhetorical but literal. The cries of countless ghosts sacrificed by other humans’ greed and arrogance rang in his head.
“Lackey, you f*****, what exactly did you do?”
Black Mamba let out a sigh. His dimensional sight didn’t work properly in the underground temple. A dimensional sight that couldn’t see through objects was even more useless.
He left the searching up to the two old warriors. The old men grew frustrated if he didn’t assign them any work, complaining that he treated them like elders. There were many cases of males past their prime meeting their ends after forcing themselves to fight against enemies in the wild. They were trying their best not to be pushed away by younger, stronger ones. It was the same for humans. With age, one became more desperate to prove their existence.
“It would take more than a decade to build an underground facility this large…Those b*stards’ roots must be deep.”
“It’s as spooky as their bad reputation. People practicing Vodou often disguised themselves as Catholics to avoid the government’s surveillance. We should investigate all the workers.” Ombuti’s face grew serious.
If he left rotten date palms in the basket, all the other date palms would rot too. It would take several months to investigate the 1,000s of workers.
“That b*stard called the head of rites is really something!” Black Mamba exclaimed.
No farm owner would tolerate Vodou on their farms. The priest who had built such a facility to avoid being watched was a brilliant person.
“There are b*stards luring people of other religions with falsities, and there are real ones too.”
“Hm, Ibrahim and Mohammad can’t find anything.”
He activated his dimensional sight. The image that was spreading like a concentric circle got distorted. The strange aura that surrounded the entire basement interfered with his dimensional sight. Black Mamba was troubled. It wouldn’t be easy to locate the hidden priests at that rate. They were at a point where they had to use a hoe to reap the field due to a broken cultivator.
“Wakil, there are no explosives but plenty of cottonseed oil in the storage. Should we burn everything?” Ombuti suggested a rather drastic solution.
“No. They’re b*stards who use strange spells. I won’t be surprised if the spellcasters turned into smoke and escaped. I need to execute them openly.”
Even Ombuti started searching.
The sound of dry bones cracking under his feet was heard. Ombuti, who had been moving his hands across the wall, flinched. He picked up the object under his feet. It was the wrist bone of a bodiless human.
“Wakil, look here.”
Ombuti called Black Mamba over.
“It’s the wrist bone of a 10-year-old child. What of it?” Black Mamba said in an indifferent tone after looking at the bone that Ombuti handed him.
While he was amazed by the fact that all of its finger bones were attached, that was all. There were plenty of bones in the basement.
“It’s a mennang that the houngan uses in a summoning ritual. A girl, 10 years old or younger, has to be locked in a dark room until she dies. Once she dies, they cut off her wrists and melt her body.”
“They’re b*stards who need to be killed. The child must have wandered around the dark, searching for a way to escape with her hands until she died. Does this mean the child’s life force and soul are concentrated in the hands?”
There was anger in Black Mamba’s voice. There were also cases in Korea whereby shamans locked and starved a child to death inside a pot to connect to a god.
“You’re right, wakil. Mennang is the symbol of protection for the priest. It’s always carried around by the spellcaster. Won’t there be any kind of clues around?”
“Seems like it.”
Black Mamba’s eyes gleamed in blue. The oil lamps on the walls provided plenty of light. He followed the wall and found a thin crack in the shape of a square’s sides. That was the trace of a freshly built mud wall with a torn down entrance.
“Old mice really do chew through jars faster…”
“What does that mean?”
“Ah, nothing. Let’s see what this is.”
The old man had bright ears. Embarrassed, Black Mamba released his emotions onto the wall.
The billion’s water armor struck the wall. The wall crumbled instantly.
Ombuti moved back, blocking his nose. Ibrahim and Mohammad ran over, startled by the sound. Black Mamba’s eyes gleamed in blue. The dust settled. A sight beyond words revealed itself.
Corpses filled the small room of about 10 pyungs. There were mummified corpses, rotting corpses, and even fresh corpses.
“It’s a zombie making room or an operating room where the houngan absorbs their life forces. The priest uses human sacrifices to increase his spellcasting skills. The brain fluids and blood are used to make yorunba, too.”
“It’s a drug used to create zombies and leave followers in a trance. It’s 10 times more addictive than opium. A follower addicted to yorunba won’t be able to betray the religion.”
“Those b*stards really shouldn’t be alive.”
Black mamba’s eyes gleamed in blue. The mad followers who had been running around the cotton square must have been yorunba addicts. Drugs destroyed the human soul. They turned people into animals.
“There’s a high chance that this place is connected to the spellcasters’ hideout. They must have dropped the mennang while in a rush.”
“They would show themselves if I break everything.”
Black Mamba answered Ombuti’s question with his billion’s water armor.
The room’s walls met with a disaster. The walls shattered and crumbled with every hit.
The stone walls crumbled. Dust rose and covered the dim oil lamps. A new space appeared, just like that. Black Mamba smiled in amusement.
The two b*stards who had fled were hiding there. Their palms were pressed against two naked women on the table, specifically on their chests and lower regions. The two women were already dead.
“Oi, were you recovering?” Black Mamba smiled widely.
Chui Do Shik used to consume women’s life forces using the same method. Why were cults so similar in that part of the globe and other sides too?
“Ugh, Baron Samedi!”
“H…how could a French dog break down Baron Samedi’s spell?”
In a daze, Barungo and Wadanka looked up at Black Mamba.
“Baron Samedi is the head spirit of the lwa of death, Petro zete. If one casts a protection spell, the room turns into an entirely different dimension. Those b*stards wouldn’t have realized the happenings outside since wakil didn’t know their hiding place.”
“What a funny skill.”
If Ombuti’s words were accurate, that was an incredible skill. It explained why he couldn’t find them with his dimensional sight. The world was truly vast, and there were many people with unique abilities.
“Ack!” Wadanka shouted.
The knife on the table floated up and flew rapidly toward him. It was the agili spell, which was Wadanka’s specialty.
“Ho, even psychokinesis!”
Black Mamba snatched the floating knife from the air effortlessly.
The knife in his hand broke into pieces. Wadanka’s face creased.
“Exactly what kind of being are you?” Barungo asked calmly, befitting of his position as head priest.
“Ddu-bai-buru-pa? Is that a god of another world?”
“I’m Asura, who beats up mere ghosts like you.”
“How did you find this place?”
Barungo rolled his red eyes. Although the head priest was a spellcaster, he was also a wise person who sought wisdom and knowledge. He sincerely wanted to know.
“You dropped your mennang.”
Barungo’s face creased devilishly. He glared at Wadanka. That had all happened because of his idiot disciple.
“Now, let’s start with a hit.”
Black Mamba’s body stretched forward.
“Hmph, Amule Amule Bakan, shield of Damballa!”
Barungo shook the scepter.
A shield, invisible to the eye, deflected Black Mamba.
“This damned thing!”
Black Mamba’s eyes flashed. He shoved the billion’s water armor into the invisible shield. He felt something sticky.
“Kehehe, I do admit that you’re strong, but you can’t do anything to Damballa Wedo’s shield.” Barungo cracked up.
“You thought such cheap mischief could stop Dong-bang-bull-pae?” Black Mamba’s shout echoed.
Using the billion’s water armor, he grabbed the shield and tore it apart.
Barungo shouted and rolled on the floor. The shock from the spell that was forcibly broken hit him. Blood trickled out of Barungo’s mouth, his body lifeless. Even Wadanka, who was muttering a spell while waving the scepter, stopped moving.
Wadanka’s face aged by 10 ten years as he muttered those words. He could do nothing to such a being. How could he fight against a being that ripped apart the Vodun Houngan’s best weapon, the shield of Damballa?
Black Mamba’s temper died down at the spellcasters’ forfeit, even before he could beat them up. He glared coldly at the limp Barungo and Wadanka.
“Lackey, no, is the farm owner’s representative dead?”
“Ugh, Namir! I should have taken him as a hostage.”
Wadanka’s face creased. He’d completely forgotten about Namir.
Black Mamba barked and laughed. Sun WooHyun was someone who loved showing off. With the title of Namir, he must have ruled over them like a king.
“Did you kill him?”
“He’s in jail.”
“It wouldn’t have been easy suppressing him,” Black Mamba said, breathing a sigh of relief after hearing the news that he was still alive.
“Hmph, he may have lost to you, but sir Barungo’s an amazing spellcaster. That kind of idiot is nothing. We’ve only waited for the right time.”
“You were summoning ghosts with chants, and you’re saying that’s amazing? You guys are nothing if you can’t cast spells.”
He mockingly struck and dislocated Barungo and Wadanka’s jawbones. He did so to prevent them from casting spells and from committing suicide.
Barungo and Wadanka shed streams of tears. When a person’s lower jaw joint was forcibly dislocated, it would stretch out the lower mandibular ligament. That pain was indescribable.
“Disgusting. You b*stards cry over such small pain when you take other people’s lives and pain for granted?”
Black Mamba glared at the priests as though he was about to swallow them. He wanted to tear them to shreds immediately, but first, he had to gather information before killing them. He wanted to leave the dark basement, which was surrounded by stale air, immediately.
 Allah is life!
 Sphinx in Arabic. It also translates as the father of dread.