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Chapter 399 - Chapter 40 Episode 22: Ituri, Fist of Justice




Chapter 399: Chapter 40 Episode 22: Ituri, Fist of Justice
“Hehehe, I can feel the bonuses rolling in. At least 10,000 francs per remain would do. 100,000 francs for the survivors? No, I should just leave this to Bonipas. Perhaps, he’ll mistake my intentions again this time.”
Black Mamba smiled as he stared at the Chinook’s tail that flew further away. He suffered but gained nothing from the mouth of Houngan Kran. He had no intention of scolding Samedi for blowing up his head either.
The spellcaster, who lost his king snake and zombie, gave up his life. Torturing the old man’s body would only take a toll on his humanity. That had all started because he needed the money. He earned his money, and that was enough. Black Mamba sorted out the negative situation simply, as always.
On the third day after leaving Olonge’s village, they journeyed through the forest without much trouble after escaping the swampy region. Ulumbo became Samedi’s lunchbox once again because of his low stamina. Olonge and Kidamba found paths like ghosts, while Samedi took care of the predators and venomous snakes, which allowed them to move 40 to 50 kilometers a day.
“Ulumbo, how much further until Kidamba’s village?”
“Well, I’ll ask him, but-”
Ulumbo’s face creased as he answered. His head automatically hurt at the thought of talking to Kidamba. The Pygmies, who had no concept of time or numbers, couldn’t give him the answer he desired. Just as Ulumbo expected, the answer he gained was very vague.
“I’m sorry, great master. He says it should take us about the time a gorilla finishes its nap to reach the village.”
Ugh, it’s not like I can separate him from the group. God, he’s driving me mad from frustration.
Black Mamba’s face creased. How was he supposed to know whether the gorilla would sleep all day or for 10 minutes?
“How many hours does a gorilla sleep? No, how much further do we need to walk? No, never mind. I’d rather die than suffer through a conversation again.”
Black Mamba laughed at himself for asking those questions. Well, the village must be nearby since gorillas didn’t sleep all day. Knowing that they were closer to their destination gave him strength. His desire to complete the operation quickly and take a warm shower for a good night’s sleep was strong.
“Great master, the water tastes strange.”
Ulumbo’s face creased as he drank the water. Samedi took the water bottle from him and drank it.
“I can’t tell.”
Black Mamba grabbed the water bottle from Samedi, took one sip, and spat it out.
“It’s spoiled. Throw it all away.”
Of course, it was spoiled. They filled up the water bottle with water from Olonge’s village. There was no way water would remain fresh for three days in the forest’s humid temperature.
“Olonge, find some water.”
In Rome, one had to ask the Romans for directions, and in the Ituri Rainforest, one had to ask the Pygmies. Olonge, who was looking around, stood before a large tree with exceptionally wide leaves. Its overall appearance resembled a banana tree.
“Hibitor!”
“Hibitor?”
“Abyo!”[1]
Olonge slashed the Hibitor’s wide leaf stem. Clear liquid poured out. Kidamba folded the Hibitor leaf with skilled hands and made a cup out of it. Half a cup of sap poured out of a leaf into the small cup. There was a substantial amount.
Samedi drank the sap first, then handed the cup made of leaf to Black Mamba. Saps shouldn’t be consumed recklessly in the Ituri Rainforest. Ever since they entered the Ituri Rainforest, Samedi tasted everything, be it fruits or roots, before handing it to Black Mamba.
“It’s drinkable.”
Its slightly salty but sweet taste was like an energy drink. That was a great find.
“Olonge, are there many Hibitor trees?”
At Ulumbo’s question, Olonge spread his hands wide to show 10 fingers.
“He says he can find as much as his fingers when he walks around for a day.”
“So there’s not a lot, but it isn’t rare.”
Black Mamba was getting used to the Pygmies concept of quantities. The fact that he got to know about the Hibitor trees was a huge gain. Whether it was the desert or the forest, the first condition for survival was water. Securing water was equivalent to securing more lives. Olonge and Kidamba filled their water bottles with Hibitor sap.
“Wakil, I smell burning meat.”
Samedi’s nostrils flared. Black Mamba stopped walking and concentrated. Eyes and ears weren’t of much use in the forest. Their sight was blocked, and all kinds of animals distorted the sound they heard. There was a combination of burning protein and ammonia smell in the air. A smile rose on Black Mamba’s face. That meant the village was nearby.
“I suppose gorillas nap for 30 minutes.”
Now, he knew one thing. When the Pygmies said it would take as long as a gorilla finished its nap, they meant 30 minutes.
After climbing up a ridge, the group could see smoke rising from the ground. Natural forest fires were impossible occurrences in the Ituri Rainforest. The smoke had to be man-made. Kidamba started talking excitedly.
“Wakil, Kidamba says that’s his village.”
“Sh… be quiet!”
Samedi pressed Ulumbo’s head down. Samedi’s ears detected the sound of a jungle knife cutting away branches. Olonge and Kidamba had already disappeared and were nowhere to be seen. Their movements and senses were just like the forest people. The two had grown to understand signals and movements better during the time they traveled together.
“Wakil, it’s the smell of LSA.”
“Hehehe, we finally have a tail.”
Black Mamba was beaming with happiness. The b*stards who walked around carrying guns were most likely the kidnappers and associated with the Vodou religion. He realized something after going through several events. No ordinary rebellion group could wander around the Ituri Rainforest easily. They were b*stards who had protective measures prepared against poisonous insects and predators.
“One should be enough, right?”
“Bring a smart one.”
Samedi handed his machete over to Ulumbo and fled from the Senna alata bush like an eel.
“He’s gotten better after all that trouble.”
Black Mamba smiled. The Pygmies’ body movements had integrated into Samedi’s Fearless Steps. He realized that both humans and animals drastically improved after they were put through extreme circumstances.
Kola tree?
Samedi tilted his head before the 30-meter tall tree. The fruit that looked like almond with leaves and felt like leather was definitely a kola tree. Something he knew but had no memories of? It was an ironic situation.
The kola tree, which the locals called niania, produced fruits that contained kolanin and caffeine—both stimulants.
The niania fruit was called cola hurutz because Coca-Cola used it as their main ingredient for Coke. Beverages from the Coca-Cola brand were made with the extracts of coca leaves and kola tree fruits.
Samedi realized that the b*stards’ aim was the kola tree. The effects of the kola tree included chasing away sleep and increasing libido. It was sweet, so it was nice to drink too.
Samedi climbed up the kola tree. He kicked off the tree bark like how a black bear would climb up trees, jumped, and immediately hid between thick branches.
Rustle—
Crack crack—
Even before he could finish counting to 10, people clearing away bushes with their jungle knives appeared. They were tall Black people carrying their rifles upside down with red bandanas across their foreheads.
Ugh!
Samedi covered his nose. When the four Black men appeared, a repulsive stench rushed in. He almost fell off the tree because of their stench.
One knocked on the kola tree branch with a long stick. Those b*stards had really come to gather kola fruits. They tried their best to collect as many kola fruits that had fallen to the ground.
“Damn b*stards, they should at least wash up. Even leopards wouldn’t want to eat you.”
Samedi dropped down with his limbs spread wide open. The one he decided to interrogate was the most good-looking one among the four. Samedi was someone who regained his senses in Korea, where appearances determined everything. The dogma that equated good-looking with smart was also ingrained in him.
Bang—
“Kugh!”
The pretty one, who received the full brunt of his 120-kilogram butt’s landing on the back from 15 meters above, turned into a smashed rice cake.
Whoosh—
His iron-like legs made a large circle. The Black people who appeared on his radar had their chests broken. The backspin elbow, which came after the leg swing, got caught on the face of a Black man who was about to stand up.
Crack—
The Black man couldn’t even scream as his face was crushed.
“Quezenzani?”[2]
A Black man, who finally registered the situation, grabbed the rifle slung over his shoulder.
Whoosh—
The foot that had been hovering in the air came down like a scythe reaping grains. His foot dug between the nape of his neck and shoulder. Surprised, the Black man instinctively raised both of his arms.
Crack—
“Agh!”
A scream broke out for the first time. The ulna and radius bones of his arms broke instantly, alongside his collarbones and neck bones. The man whose neck was tilted at an abnormal angle fell. Three men lost their eyes in one breath.
Samedi looked down at the three corpses with eyes full of pride. He believed that he took care of them very well. However, his master wasn’t watching. He suddenly felt mortified.
Wallaby, who had fainted, regained consciousness at his friends’ scream. Once he understood the situation, he pretended to be dead but slowly reached out to grab his rifle.
“Do you have a strong mentality? Do you not have a brain?”
There was no way that Samedi, who could hear an ant crawling by, was unaware of Wallaby’s movements. He jumped and crushed the hand on the rifle with his foot.
Craaack—
“Aagh!”
Wallaby let out an ear-piercing scream at his finger bones breaking.
“Shh, pretty!”
Samedi tried to warn the guy, but his body language didn’t convey it well. If anyone could stand the pain of their finger bones breaking, they were at the level of Buddha.
Slap—
Pretty’s eyes regained focus after he was slapped with a thick hand. Samedi lifted a finger to his mouth and pointed at the corpses lying around. Pretty’s mouth shut like a clam. Violence was truly more effective than words.
Samedi kicked the corpses away like they were soccer balls. The corpses flew into the thick bushes like empty cans. After getting rid of three corpses, he grabbed the rifle’s lock and barrel. He crushed the connecting point.
“Hhhhh-”
Wallaby’s black face bleached white. Samedi broke all four rifles, threw them into the bushes, and lifted Pretty up onto his shoulder before disappearing. Several parasites appeared and wiped the kola fruits clean off the ground.
“Wakil, I caught Pretty.”
Samedi threw Pretty down before Black Mamba’s feet. Olonge and Kidamba appeared again like ghosts once they realized that the situation was over. The Pygmies’ ability to avoid danger was enough for their survival in the Ituri Rainforest.
“Pretty? Ugh!”
Black Mamba covered his nose. That was a different kind of stench compared to the Pygmies who suffered from skin diseases. It was the kind of stench that was worse than feces, causing vomit to rise up his throat. That wasn’t the smell of an ordinary human. Samedi’s face was scrunched up badly too. He asked Ulumbo, who seemed unbothered by the stench.
“Ulumbo, doesn’t something smell weird?”
“They don’t smell worse than those guys.” Ulumbo pointed to the Pygmies.
I see!
Black Mamba realized that the origin of the smell wasn’t from their bodies but their souls. That was the smell of a contaminated soul. That guy ate something he shouldn’t have and was subjected to some weird religion’s beliefs. He didn’t even want to touch the man’s dirty body. He kicked the man away with his toe and let him rest against a tree.
“Ulumbo, check if this guy’s the one we’ve been looking for.”
The man didn’t answer Ulumbo’s question. Ulumbo kicked and slapped the man out of anger, but he acted like it was just the neighbor’s dog barking. Ulumbo grew tired of the man’s red-eyed glare.
“Samedi, you chose the wrong thing.”
No matter how he said it, the guy was either mad, did drugs, didn’t feel pain, or was just bad in general.
“He’s wrapped the most nicely… Should we just throw him away?”
Samedi glanced at Black Mamba. He had been doing well in Korea, but ever since he entered the forest, his efforts took a turn for the worse.
“Injigane badla ku eck awen ga weh,” Kidamba said, pointing to the man with his finger.
“What is he saying?”
“He said that this is one of the men who steamed a child to death to eat.”
“I see!”
Black Mamba nodded. Leprosy patients frequently visited the bridge village to beg for food. The adults cursed them and chased them out of the village. Some leprosy patients were also beaten to death with sticks. During his childhood, there had been rumors that leprosy patients ate children.
Whether they really ate children, he didn’t know. The villagers did say that leprosy patients had red eyes because they ate children. He only figured out the cause of their red eyes later. It was because bacteria had infected their eyes, causing color changes or keratitis. Ignorance and violence went hand in hand like thunder and lightning.
He couldn’t tell whether their eyes had turned red from eating children, but their souls exuded a stench that only special people like Samedi and himself could smell. Teacher was truly a great person. The Tight-Fillet Spell was conditioned by a person’s soul. However, the headband wouldn’t activate if the soul was foul.
“Wakil, I’ll take care of the one I dragged here.”
Samedi recalled one method among his master’s many torture methods that he could use. He stepped on Pretty’s thigh and covered his mouth with his hands. Wallaby twisted and turned at the pain of his broken thigh like a frog under a bull’s foot.
“You started from the left middle finger, right?”
His military combat boots had already crushed the right hand. Human fingers were too weak to withstand Samedi’s strength. With a crack, the guy’s left middle finger was plastered right on his wrist.
“Kuuuuu!”
Wallaby’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he trembled. Not only was the pain extreme, but the visual effect was also brutal. Fear flooded Wallaby’s eyes at the sight of his bones poking out of his white tendons and palm.
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“One, two, three!” Samedi counted.
The moment he counted three, blood gushed out of the broken middle finger.
[1] “Yes!”
[2] “What the heck?”