Chapter 405: Chapter 40 Episode 28: Ituri, Fist of Justice
On the 10th day of the Ituri Rainforest infiltration,
What Ulumbo said turned out to be true. There was no name for the vast land between Apwanza and Apadombe. It was just colored green on the map. That area where most skilled explorers had never set foot in was one of the roughest terrains with swamps and waterways intertwined, unlike the areas in the direction of Mambasa.
The deeper they traveled into Apadombe, the harsher Ituri became. Its vegetation changed first. Large trees such as mahogany, Sapele, moabi, and ocum covered with dark blue and green lichens and woody vines wrapped around those trees blocked the sunlight. The surfaces between the large trees were densely covered with thorny bushes and rough fern shrubs. It was hard to advance even a meter inside the forest without turning a lantern on.
The swamps covered with humus and fallen dried leaves were also a major obstacle because they were indistinguishable from dry land. The attacks of the boomslangs and black mambas, which were indistinguishable from branches, were also threatening. Wasps launched a blizzard attack as they buzzed out of stranglers[1], and poisonous moths the size of his palm spread poisonous dust everywhere. Ituri tried to replenish its nutrition by melting the foreigners in it. The forestâs entire ecosystem seemed to be in a frenzy to consume the sources of protein that entered its deepest areas willingly.
Olonge and Kidamba were no exception to threats even though they were forest people, and Ulumbo, who was said to visit the Ituri Rainforest frequently, was dragged into the swamp. Although Black Mamba and Samedi dealt with the predators and venomous snakes, they couldnât do anything about the poisonous insects and parasites. Samediâs jungle knife reeked of blood, and Black Mambaâs senses grew dull.
âSir, weâre out of rations.â
Ulumbo patted the slim backpack with his palm. Ulumboâs backpack had run out of C-rations. The 30 packs of rations in Samediâs backpack were all there was. According to their GPS, Apadombe was still 136 kilometers away.
âRun faster if you donât want to starve!â Samedi glared.
Ulumboâs face creased. Ulumbo was the only one in the group who cared about the rations. Black Mamba and Samedi could survive by hunting polar bears and seals even if they were in the Arctic, in the middle of nowhere. Kidamba and Olonge didnât mind eating caterpillars, army ants, white ants, bees, and even tiger tarantulas the size of their palm. Among inhumane people, only Ulumbo was pitiful. Ulumbo sped up, unwilling to be scolded any further at a single word of complaint.
âGreat master, save me!â
Ulumbo, who had gone ahead, ran back screaming just as Black Mamba entered Dzanga Bai.
Buzzzzzzzâ
Kuuuuuududududâ
A large bull that was frothing at the mouth appeared behind Ulumbo, less than 10 meters away. Its iron-like hooves trampled on the bushes and branches as it charged.
It was a tragic comedy, the way a human was running away from a charging bull that was swinging its large horns from side to side. The running bulls of Spainâs festival of San Fermin would make one laugh, but Ituri didnât give anyone the leisure to laugh.
âHuh, all kinds of things are causing trouble here. Where is Samedi?â
The Pygmies had an uncanny ability to remove themselves from danger. Olonge and Kidamba already went into hiding, but it was strange for Samedi not to appear. He didnât mind the bull because he trusted Samedi. He didnât expect that Ulumbo would drag it there himself. Their guide was truly a troublemaker.
It was said that boars were scary, but those were the words of people who never experienced a charging bull before. An excited bull charging was like a flood rushing out of a broken dam. He was almost trampled to death by a bull charging at a female cow in heat on a river island. The angry bullâs horns fractured the chest of his childhood friend, Jong Hwa. African cows could even kill lions. Ulumbo would turn into a rag if he ever got caught in its spear-like horns.
He took out the Dragunov that heâd left hanging on his backpack. It would be hard to pierce the bullâs thick skull with a nine-millimeter parabellum bullet. By the time he added the magazine to the Dragunov, the bull was already before his nose. Black Mamba, who got into shooting position, shouted.
âOi, you idiot, handero[2]!â
He couldnât shoot because Ulumbo was in his line of sight, in front of the bullâs head. There was no way a man from Africaâs Bashi tribe would understand the Gyeongsang-do dialect that came out of his mouth in a rush.
âRoulez le cĂ´tĂŠ!â[3]
Ulumbo, who was chilled with fear and couldnât understand French, continued to run straight. The bull with red eyes, which was three steps behind him, continued charging. The warm breath coming out of its nostrils reached Ulumboâs neck.
He couldnât. Not only was Ulumbo, who was sprinting, blocking his view, but the lush shrubs and tall weeds of Dzanga Bai also restricted his aim.
âAck!â
Ulumbo tripped forward. He sprained his ankle. He now had a clear line of sight, but Ulumbo was about to be trampled.
âTsk!â
Black Mamba clicked his tongue. The guide was a useless idiot. In the end, he fired without getting into a proper shooting position. He fired a restraining shot instead of a shot that could kill.
Clangâ
A 7.62-millimeter bullet hit the center of its left horn with an energy of 4,700 joules. It was a dimensional sight sniping that only Black Mamba was capable of.
Bangâ
The center of the bullâs horn snapped and flew off.
Oiiikâ
The bull stumbled at the shock, and Black Mamba took his chance to kick off the ground.
Crackâ
Black Mambaâs fist landed right on the bullâs head. His fist bore through the bullâs skull until he was wrist deep.
Uuuuuueâ
The bull let out a cry and kneeled on its front knees. He was one step away from Ulumbo. He sighed in relief, but the situation wasnât over.
Uuuuâ
Millions of tiny wings fluttered in the air. A swarm of angry killer bees appeared in the direction where the bull appeared. The hybrid of African and European bees was called killer bees, while African honey bees were always called killer bees. That was because they were more aggressive compared to European or Asian honey bees.
It followed 10 li when one fled and was tenacious enough to linger around the waterâs surface for several hours after one jumped in. While it was less poisonous than a wasp, people still died when they collectively stung.
âSeriously, what the hell.â
He could almost imagine it. The angry killer bees attacked the bull after it provoked their beehive. The angry bull just happened to see Ulumbo wandering around and lashed out at him instead.
Whooshâ
The Rakshasa stretched out from his backpack. There wasnât a better weapon than the Rakshasa to handle small flying creatures.
Whooshâ
A small whirlwind formed. The whirlwind soon turned into a tornado.
Tatatataâ
The killer bees that were sucked into the tornado fell like snow.
The killer bees outside of the tornado hurriedly fled. Others that were buzzing around the bullâs carcass also disappeared.
Woooâ
The tornado slowly died down. Black Mamba, who stored the Rakshasa back into his backpack, shook his head. If he didnât have the Rakshasa, he would have had to hide under a tarp just like how he hid from the grasshoppers in the Sahel.
Rustle rustleâ
Olonge and Kidamba crawled out from under the bushes. They always reappeared like ghosts after the danger had passed. The two, who found the collapsed bull, communicated loudly with their hands and feet. Black Mamba frowned. Their instinct to avoid danger was commendable, but he couldnât feel Samediâs ki.
âWhereâs Samedi?â
There was silence.
Surprised, both turned their heads.
âSamedi!â Black Mamba shouted.
No one could hide Samedi to the point that it would go unnoticed by him. He grew even more anxious.
âA-ool, wabella ik-sa pozi!â
Although he couldnât understand, the tone sounded urgent. Black Mamba motioned him to lead the way. They passed Dzanga Bai before Kidamba stopped a few meters away from where the bull appeared. It was no different from land covered with leaves, but it was a swamp. Samediâs backpack and machine gun were by the swampâs side.
âDamn b*stards!â
For the first time, Black Mamba felt his bloodlust rise because of the Pygmies. Those b*stards knew Samedi disappeared into the swamp but didnât inform him of the urgent situation. They irresponsibly directed all of their attention to the dead bull. The more he learned about them, the more he couldnât understand them.
Whooshâ
The Rakshasa swept the ground.
Crackâ
Crunchâ
Twangâ
All kinds of sounds were heard. The leaves and branches that were swept away by the Rakshasa flew, and the bushes and weeds were uprooted entirely. Even the arboreal tree was cut down.
Whooshâ
Waste that scattered into the air was pushed away by a gust of wind.
A swamp that was several 100s of pyungs wide appeared in the empty space. Rather, it was a mudflat that had turned into soup. The heavy rain had pushed the surrounding soil, creating a swamp of death with leaves piled on the surface. It was the scariest trap to exist in the Ituri Rainforest.
While he didnât know why Samedi was dragged into the swamp, it was an emergency. Although he was a former zombie, Samedi survived on land. 10 minutes had passed. He was unsure how long Samedi could endure it.
Ooooooâ
When he activated his resonance waves at full potential, the ground vibrated. His hair soared into the sky. His resonance waves covered the swamp. He felt like something was shattering his head. Although his control was remarkable, using it over a wide area was still difficult.
Resonance waves were similar to a batâs ultrasound and a submarineâs navigation sound waves. His brain analyzed the reflected wavelength, revealing the shape and size of the object. It was basically a biological radar. 10 meters, 20 meters, 30 meters, and finally, something seemed different at 40 meters. It was a sturdy bedrock.
Damn. That wasnât a swamp but a cenote. Cenotesâa deep puddle formed by the accumulation of groundwater in a doline of karst terrainâwere commonly found in South America. Unfortunately, the cenote that Samedi was dragged into was a swamp of death filled with waste and dirt instead of clear groundwater due to the heavy rain.
Black Mamba stirred up the swamp as though he was looking for an eel with his resonance waves. Countless dead creatures in the swamp hindered his work. His body broke out in cold sweat because he felt anxious, and there wasnât much progress.
Found him.
He found something jumping off the bedrock like a grasshopper. No matter how strong he was, Samedi wouldnât be able to escape the swamp that was 120 meters deep. He propelled himself up by three to four meters but sank back down due to the pressure. A monster was a monster. What kind of creature on Earth could resist the pressure of a swamp that was 120 meters deep?
âKeke!â
It wasnât the time to laugh, but laughter escaped out of him anyway. The relief he felt from knowing that Samedi was fine drew it out of him. He threw his backpack down and took off his clothes. Only a single pouch wrapped securely around his chest remained.
The emergency pouch, created after his experience of getting swept down by the dam water in Kaparja Valley, contained the bare necessities for survival and the Vajra. The pouch was made from aramid and carbon fibers. It was fireproof and resistant to knife tears.
Black Mamba tied the army rope to a large ocum tree that spread over the swamp and tied the other end to his waist. That wasnât a parachute anchor line but a diving lifeline. Black Mamba dived into the swamp without hesitation once he was ready.
Splashâ
Thick water splashed up. Although he had several experiences digging underground with his resonance waves, 10 meters was his limit. He wasnât a fish or a crocodile. Samedi was still fine after 20 minutes, but 15 minutes was his limit.
Gurgleâ
Black Mamba dug into the swamp just like a drill.
As expected, he couldnât descend fast enough. The swamp was much more difficult to dig into than land. The strong resistance hindered his fall. The mental exhaustion he gained from searching the location of Samediâs fall was also an obstacle. Once he reached 50 meters under, the swamp water turned into mud. His biological clock had already passed 10 minutes. His chest grew stuffy. Holding oneâs breath in a swamp was much more challenging than in water.
Should he return or dive deeper? Black Mamba contemplated until a headache came around. His mind shouted at him to give up, but his heart refused. He wasnât like his mother, who left her young son behind. He couldnât leave Samedi to die in a swamp. He was his family. He could descend faster in the muddy water than in the swamp water too.
After a moment of consideration, Black Mamba increased the speed of his descent to the best of his abilities. The swamp and mud water placed an unimaginable amount of pressure on him. An average human wouldnât be able to swim 120 meters underwater.
His chest was on the verge of exploding. His mind went blank. He had to live to save Samedi, but he was too greedy. His heartbeat slowed down. His consciousness began to fade.
Iâll be an Epidium fossil 1,000,000s of years from now. Hehehe! He laughed inwardly in resignation.
âHuh? What the heck?â
His consciousness returned. That meant oxygen was reaching his brain. His heart started pumping blood once more. The pain in his chest, which made him feel like he was about to explode, became bearable. Black Mamba was extremely confused for someone who knew his physical limitations in detail. He didnât gain any new ability recently, either. His teacher also said that his physical abilities had reached the limit.
Boomâ
He released his dimensional sight. He could answer those questions later.
Heâs fainted!
Samedi wasnât moving. He had been trying to escape the 120-meter swamp for the past 10 or so minutes. Even Nio would have given up.
Slapâ
Samedi flinched at the slap.
Crackâ
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He punched his forehead. Bubbles escaped out of Samediâs mouth.