Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 417

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Black Mamba looked down at the corpses with holes between their collarbones and in between their brows. There wasn’t a single person or spider on the dock. Of course, they’d fall asleep nearing dawn. How could the men who got beaten up and the beaters imagine that they’d die from 12 grams worth of metal? Life was just unpredictable.

Samedi checked the dead guards’ necks. They did have a skull necklace, but it was shattered by the bullet. That meant each guard post had one skull necklace.

“It’s unfortunate!” Samedi pounded the ground.

“What’s unfortunate?”

“Wakil, these necklaces block sound and smell.”

Samedi handed him the skull necklaces he had collected. Black Mamba frowned. They were human skulls downsized to the size of an egg. An evil aura emanated from the skulls.

“Hm, this was why it was hard to find those b*stards. It’s not a good object, but it’s hard to call it cursed either.”

Spellcasters made all kinds of objects. The problem was that it wasn’t some mind-controlling or threatening spell but an object with physical effects. While it was cultish as it was immoral, it wasn’t cultish as it wasn’t some half-a**ed object.

“I managed to find those guys who were hiding thanks to this.”

“Really? I could smell their foulness even if I couldn’t hear them. Let me see.”

He took out the Angel’s Egg from his emergency pouch. Once he laid them side by side, the rock shone in blue. If he covered the skulls, the light disappeared. Something was affecting the Angel’s Egg. He couldn’t tell whether it was the spell or the environment. Anyway, it seemed like it could break the spell or perhaps not.

“I don’t need it.”

Black Mamba threw aside the skulls. Nothing good would come out of carrying around a cursed object.

“Fine then. I’ll give it to Miss Edel.”

Samedi hung two necklaces around his neck.

“Yeah, right, she’ll totally love it.” Black Mamba smiled and raised the satellite phone.

It was 03:30. He punched in the passcode and started a call.

“Mother sandpiper, it’s baby sandpiper.”

“Baby sandpiper, I hope you’re doing well. No problem?”

Paul’s reply came two seconds later. The voice message was transmitted as a coded file to the receiving side, and they would listen to the coded file after it was converted into a voice message. The process took around two to three seconds.

“Non problem! Hostage detention point confirmed, 12 guards at one post erased, going in.”

“Baby sandpiper, w… wait a moment. I’ll transfer you to Holland.”

Paul was frightened. If there were 12 per guard post, how big was their main army! It had to be the size of a battalion. The conversation was beyond his authority.

“Baby sandpiper, this is Holland. I’ll transfer you to the headquarters now.”

Holland spoke very politely.

“Got it.”

Black Mamba smiled. Those who liked to bully others had to be bullied for them to come to their senses.

“Baby sandpiper, this is Ariba. There are three surviving GIGN members, and we recovered 32 remains. Firstly, I would like to congratulate you on your amazing progress.”

“F*** that. Are you running for council elections? Pass the phone to the director before I punch you.”


A suppressed, monotonous voice escaped. He knew Bonipas was listening.

“Old man, you were sleeping on the office field bed again, weren’t you? Go sleep on an actual bed before you faint.”

Bonipas felt his heart warm up. His words were harsh, but he felt his sincerity.

“Hehehe, this field bed’s better than the floor that you must be sleeping on in the Devil’s Forest, Dubai. There’s no need for formalities between us. Tell me the coordinates.”

“Apadombe, the meeting point of Ituri and the Eplu River. There’s a lower bank that the Pygmies call Katanga in Apadombe. Coordinates Standby two Gazelles, a Chinook, and a medical team.”

“Alright. Have you confirmed the hostages?”

“According to Karungo, there are 20 survivors.”

“Ola, god! Thank you. Mitterrand would cheer in joy. But, you caught Karungo?”

“Hehehe, the great DGSE gets it wrong every time. The kidnappers are Hutu guerrillas who separated from the Mai-Mai. Their leader is the Vodou priest, Kamuge. I’m guessing there are around 550 soldiers.”


The conversation stopped briefly. Black Mamba grinned from ear to ear. He could almost see Manager Ariba’s surprised face and Bonipas’ rotten expression.

“Baby sandpiper, do you need reinforcements?”

“No. I want you to send over medical reinforcements in time for sunrise, even if I don’t request it.”

“I knew you’d say that. The helicopter is expected to arrive at the coordinate points at 06:15. I wish you luck.”


Black Mamba smiled in satisfaction as soon as he finished the call. He could imagine the DGSE headquarters and Bunia officials jumping around like peas on a stove.

“Samedi, you can go on a rampage as much as you want as soon as we secure the hostages. They aren’t of any help to this world, anyway.”

“Great master worries about wakil a lot. Master should rest. I’ll take care of them all. Hehehe!”

A predator’s satisfied smile after securing its prey made its appearance as his offensive nature arose. His vile expression under the moonlight was like the Rakshasa, just as it was about to capture some evil spirits.

“Brat, Yeon Soon keeps saying she can’t eat because you laugh like that. All the women would run if they saw it,” Black Mamba scolded.

Even he got creeped out whenever Samedi smiled with his fangs poking out. He had to marry him off, but he felt like no normal woman would be able to stand him. Perhaps, the muscular Chui Mi Sook could stand him?

Samedi stopped laughing.

“I don’t want to get married. I want to live with wakil.”

“Ugh, I’d rather die than think about that. Just laugh like you usually do.”

His serious face was even more frightening.

Black Mamba was like the night goblin as he flew through the sky. Samedi chased after him with an MP5. It wasn’t hard to find the Damballa’s base. They only had to follow the foul smell coming from the dock.


A log fell. It was a rough trap, secured by a nail on a thick bark. Black Mamba’s waist bent 90 degrees backward.


The log swept past his chest. An activated log was no different from a swing. Samedi tapped the log as he passed by.


The ground opened up, and Samedi was sucked in. It was a turning trap door. Sharp spears or rusty knives stood upright in the hole. The lid would turn if someone stepped on the trap. The lid would swing back to its place after smacking the person’s head and shoving them deep into the hole. Once caught, the sacrifice would certainly die.


The thick lid broke. Samedi jumped out of the hole. No one could catch a tiger with a trap made for a rabbit.

Traps made of natural objects continued to appear. Spears flew down from the trees, nets swung up from the ground, and arrows were shot from all around. Black Mamba and Samedi advanced as they crushed each trap. That was because avoiding them would take time.

“This is strange. Why are all the traps familiar?” Black Mamba mumbled as he slid past a trap of collapsing logs.

These traps, which combined natural and man-made objects, were eastern-styled, not western.


The Damballa’s base was revealed too easily. There were buildings in between the trees that shot up toward the sky. They were long tents made of weaving wood and grass.

He looked up at the sky. A dense canopy covered the sky. That would render aerial reconnaissance useless. Kamuge had played it smart and mocked France by using natural obstacles to conceal himself.

“Wakil, this is too easy. There are no outlying guard posts either,” Samedi whispered.

“It’s a different story when you take off the skull necklaces around your neck.”

Samedi removed the skull necklaces.


The tent-like buildings and water supply facilities that were right before his eyes disappeared. The eerie forest was filled with waves of fog. When he put the necklaces back on, the original landscape returned.

Although Kamuge tried his best to be on guard, there were unpredictable matters in the world. He couldn’t have imagined that an item made for his defense would end up in the enemy’s hand and reveal his base.

“Ah, damn it! I want to be a Vodou follower too.”

Samedi admired the spellcaster’s abilities. If he hadn’t found the skull necklaces, he would have wandered through Katanga all night in search of Kamuge’s base.

Katanga was nestled deep in the Ituri Rainforest, which didn’t tolerate any intruders. A horrible swamp surrounded the island, and his base was concealed with spells. How could anyone find it, aside from the master himself? He really was suited for the position of wakil’s lackey.

“Erase the guard posts surrounding it. You must maintain secrecy until I have secured all the hostages.”


Samedi closed his eyes and made up excuses for himself to Monk Dae Woo before acting.

“Great master, I don’t kill people. I only kill people who master said are animals. The animals I will kill are not innocent animals but evil creatures in the guise of humans. I think these b*stards aren’t any better than creatures. These devils kill innocent people, kidnap them, cut off their hands and feet, and boil children to eat. Master said if violence is forgiven, it will only return as a greater form of violence.”

Samedi continued. “He said that violence must be crushed with greater violence. He said to put trust in my gun instead of God. He said that what saves those poor people from violence isn’t belief but a gun. He said that one evil person could torment 1,000s of kind lives. He said that such b*stard doesn’t deserve prayers but needs to be killed. Great master said I need to do everything that wakil tells me to do. You can’t scold me. Master told me to do everything. Namu Amita Bul!”


Black Mamba was at a loss for words when he heard Samedi mumbling. Fearing that his head would explode due to the Tight-Fillet Spell, he made up all kinds of excuses like how his master had taught him and how he was only acting as ordered. The Tight-Fillet Spell didn’t activate unless he took a certain action. Samedi, who was unaware of the fact, made up useless excuses that only made him laugh.

Samedi wasn’t wrong, however. B*stards who believed that power came from guns wouldn’t blink at the onslaught of criticisms and curses. Violence must be suppressed with greater violence. Vietnam protected its pride and knocked down the Goliath France and the U.S. with pitchforks and booby traps. They should have picked up pitchforks during the Japanese colonial period instead of shouting “Hoorah.”

Samedi smiled and disappeared toward the outer border. Black Mamba infiltrated the base. Endless buildings with wooden frames and walls and roofs covered with thick, broad leaves appeared.

There were 12 buildings that looked like living quarters and three other buildings of which the purpose was unknown. Most of the buildings were stilt houses of at least 50 centimeters above the ground. There were piloti-type houses 1.5 meters above ground supported by thick pillars too.

The living quarters were quite large, measuring five meters in width and 30 meters in length. If redesigned like the Korean military’s living quarters, one was big enough to accommodate 50 to 60 people. Based on calculations, there were at least 600 of them.

At least it’s less than 1,000.

Black Mamba flinched. Since when did he start thinking of human lives as numbers? Did he just dismiss 600 lives as nothing? Samedi’s words were no longer something to laugh at.

Black Mamba slid into the living quarter’s pillar’s shadow.


Two guards walked by. The pillar’s shadow stretched out.

Bang bang—

The guards, who were slapped on the back of their heads with his palm, couldn’t scream at all. He kicked the two Black men, who had collapsed, under the pilotis like they were empty potato sacks.

He tore off a little from the wall of a stilt house he presumed was their living quarters and looked inside. It had one room with no partitions. There was a narrow corridor in between the two wide beds like the Korean military’s living quarters. For some strange reason, the bed’s legs were in bowls filled with water. It was a small measure to protect themselves against poisonous insects.

There were 42 of them, and all of them were naked except for the lower half of their bodies. One guy who had kicked his bedsheet aside was also sleeping. As he expected, it was the guerrillas’ living quarters.

He searched the other three buildings of different shapes first. He was wrong this time. The house with the clay walls was a goat house, and the building next to it was a cafeteria. The building he thought was Kamuge’s living quarters housed 10 women covered in black one-pieces like a burqa, and they were sleeping soundly. A foul smell came from the goat house and the cafeteria. The building where the women were sleeping had a foul smell too. It was a relaxing yet rotten feeling, like some kind of drug.

I see. They are the Vodou female followers.

The female followers’ clothes looked like the mambos he erased at Samaria farm. Black Mamba, who had raised his MP5, lowered it and turned away. Now wasn’t the time to make a scene.

Black Mamba held back his frustration from finding nothing valuable even though he searched all 12 living quarters. His nose ached at the smell originating from the Vodou followers, and he ended up killing a few guards. Six guards and nine from a squadron had their heads bashed in or necks sliced with the Kukri.

Where were the hostages? A mere leftist spellcaster wouldn’t be able to fool his senses. Black Mamba was impatient. There were countless Vodou cults in East Africa. Perhaps, he was poking around the wrong Vodou guerrilla group who weren’t Areva company’s kidnappers? The horrifying possibility made his head hurt.

No! He screamed out of nowhere.

The anger from catching the wrong kidnappers would make him go mad.


He forgot that Kamuge was a Houngan. His confidence had gotten the better of him. The b*stard had the ability to conceal a specific area with spells. Although the hidden guards were exposed because of the smell at the dock, the smell was now hindering their investigation. The pungent smell coming from each building made his nose ache.
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