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🕑 Added 2025-05-12 17:08:09 +0000 UTC*Chapter 336: Motion Sickness*
"Maybe I can help you."
Looking at Angela, who was surrounded by several Haitian border inspection officers in the distance, Joey spoke to Amanda and the others.
This scene at the airport was not part of the planned script.
Clearly, it was an improvisation by the Haitian border inspectors. However, neither Joey—nor Allen—was particularly surprised by this turn of events.
After all, this was the same place that a future U.S. president would notoriously refer to as a "shithole."
As one of the most infamous third-world countries, Haiti had been in a constant state of chaos for years. Nearly every president had come to power through military coups. In such an unstable and underdeveloped nation, one could hardly expect the laws in place to have much authority.
A law enacted by the current president might become completely meaningless within a few months.
The current Haitian president had also risen to power through a military coup against his predecessor. However, unlike his predecessor, this president seemed to have even greater ambition.
He replicated the tactics of François Duvalier, choosing to strengthen his regime by leveraging the power of Vodou.
François Duvalier was the most infamous president in Haiti’s history. His family controlled the country for thirty years, using Vodou teachings to present himself as the high priest of the faith. Through fear-mongering, rituals, and propaganda, he kept the population in a constant state of terror. In fact, it was during his rule that Vodou reached its peak influence in Haiti.
Although the current president did not wield the same level of absolute power as Duvalier, his fusion of political rule with Vodou belief still allowed him to consolidate his grip on the country.
As a result, Haiti had become even more chaotic.
Even government officials, such as border inspectors, were solely focused on personal gain, resorting to extortion and blackmailing travelers without hesitation.
...
"It's all up to you now, Voodoo Doll."
Taking out the *Voodoo Doll* hidden in his backpack, the Fortune Teller patted its fuzzy head and pointed toward Angela.
Having just emerged from the dark confines of the backpack into the brightly lit airport, the *Voodoo Doll* seemed a bit disoriented. It rubbed its button eyes and glanced toward Angela, then turned back to Joey with a puzzled expression.
"I mean..."
Meeting the *Voodoo Doll*’s red button eyes, Joey took a deep breath and patiently explained.
"Do you understand now?"
Under the Fortune Teller’s expectant gaze, the *Voodoo Doll* nodded its fluffy head little by little.
Then, it turned around in Joey’s hand, faced the direction of Angela and the border officers, and waved its tiny trident with a fierce expression.
Thud!
At that moment, a traveler in the queue suddenly lost his footing and fell heavily to the ground. Within seconds, a group of security personnel rushed over, pinned him down, and—ignoring his protests—dragged him into a small interrogation room.
"Not him, *Voodoo Doll*."
Seeing this, Joey smacked his forehead and sighed.
"It’s those guys over there—the ones surrounding Angela."
The *Voodoo Doll* tilted its head, then nodded firmly.
In the next moment, an entirely unrelated water pipe burst, drenching several passing travelers.
Feeling the increasingly skeptical gazes from Amanda and the others behind him, the Fortune Teller quickly attempted to explain.
"Normally, the *Voodoo Doll* doesn’t make mistakes like this. Maybe it’s just feeling a bit motion sick after the long flight. That’s why it keeps missing the target."
"Motion sickness? The *Voodoo Doll*?"
Hearing Joey’s flimsy excuse, Phil couldn’t help but glance at the toy-like doll in his hands.
He found it impossible to associate motion sickness with a stuffed doll.
"If that’s the case, I hope it recovers quickly—because Angela is about to get taken away by those guys."
Regardless of whether Joey’s words were true or just an attempt to cover up his embarrassment, Agent Zhou couldn’t ignore the worsening situation. He watched the border inspectors surrounding Angela, noting their growing impatience.
Exchanging a glance with Amanda, they prepared to intervene.
If they made a move, it would mean the end of their covert operation.
"Don’t worry—this time, I won’t miss."
Feeling the urgency in Agent Zhou’s voice, Joey instinctively tensed.
He firmly grabbed the *Voodoo Doll* by its yarn head, aligning its button eyes precisely with Angela’s position, and spoke with utmost seriousness.
"Those guys right there, *Voodoo Doll*. Don’t get it wrong this time."
Held tightly by Joey, the *Voodoo Doll* squirmed slightly, and its tiny trident wobbled in its grip.
"Please cooperate with our inspection, miss..."
"We suspect you are carrying illegal items."
"I refuse."
At the inspection area, the border officers surrounding Angela spoke in an obviously malicious tone.
They reached out to grab her arms, but she swiftly dodged their grasp.
Although Angela wasn’t a combat specialist, as a member of the BSI squad, she had received basic hand-to-hand combat training—enough to prevent herself from being easily subdued by these men.
After several failed attempts to seize her, the officers grew visibly irritated. While they often used these methods to extract "benefits" for themselves, causing too big a scene could backfire, potentially even costing them their jobs.
Exchanging silent glances, they came to a mutual understanding.
The next moment, they lunged at Angela all at once.
Seeing them pounce, Angela instinctively prepared to evade.
But before she could react, one of the border officers suddenly tripped—his footing slipping just enough to send him rolling forward like a ball, crashing straight into his colleagues.
Thud!
"Ahh!"
With a series of muffled impacts, one of the officers clutched his leg and let out a pained wail.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 337: Terrible Public Security
Due to the "accident" involving the security personnel, the remaining staff naturally lost interest in giving Angela a hard time.
In fact, to prevent the situation from being exposed, a few of the security personnel hurriedly helped Angela pass through. Judging by their rushed behavior, their previous concerns about prohibited items had completely vanished.
She had been stopped for no apparent reason, and then, just as inexplicably, was allowed to pass.
*"What exactly just happened?"*
Angela approached the team with a bewildered expression.
*"Just a little incident, but it's not important now."*
Seeing Angela emerge unscathed, Amanda finally relaxed. When questioned by an agent, she simply shook her head and scanned the crowd at the airport.
*"Our top priority now is to find a suitable location for our temporary base of operations. And most importantly, we need to locate our target destination."*
As she gave her orders decisively, Amanda instinctively turned her gaze toward the fortune teller.
Since he had foreseen the disaster occurring in Haiti, perhaps he could provide some valuable clues for their next search.
*"I've already said it—prophecies of the future are incomplete. Besides, all I saw was a wasteland. There's no way to extract any useful information from that vision."*
Faced with Amanda's expectation, Joey simply shrugged, his expression indifferent.
Although she had anticipated this answer, Amanda couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
Taking a deep breath to suppress her emotions, she looked at her team and said,
*"In that case, we'll have to take things one step at a time. First, let's secure a temporary base."*
---
*"Anyone headed to Port-au-Prince? There's one spot left!"*
*"Only 20 gourdes! Just 20 gourdes for Haiti’s most famous specialty products!"*
*"Need a SIM card? Only 100 gourdes each!"*
*"Currency exchange! One U.S. dollar for 70 gourdes, one euro for 40!"*
*"Hotels, bars—just 500 gourdes for the most comfortable guided experience!"*
Stepping out of the rundown Haitian airport, they were immediately hit by a wave of hot air.
As an island nation in the Caribbean, Haiti has a typical tropical rainforest climate, with temperatures ranging from 72 to 82°F (22–28°C) year-round.
With the heat came the bustling crowds at the airport entrance, accompanied by the endless shouting of vendors.
Due to scarce resources, Haiti’s economy relies heavily on agriculture. However, the tropical rainforest climate makes it difficult to grow many crops, so tourism has become a vital part of the local economy. Naturally, this has led to a rise in various tourism-related occupations.
Compared to the predominantly Black locals, Amanda and her team stood out.
Noticing their tourist-like appearance, the surrounding vendors immediately swarmed toward them, eagerly trying to sell their goods.
Among them, however, were a few with less-than-honorable intentions. Blending in with the crowd, they discreetly reached for the team's backpacks.
*"Watch yourself, buddy."*
These were seasoned pickpockets who lurked around the airport, preying on unsuspecting tourists.
However, this time, they had chosen the wrong targets.
With a firm grip, Agent Zhou caught a hand reaching into his pocket. His expression remained cold as he issued a warning.
At the same time, he tightened his grip, making the pickpocket cry out in pain.
*"To be honest, your technique is pretty sloppy."*
Spike casually patted another thief on the shoulder. In the next second, the wallet that had been stolen was back in his hands. He smirked, shaking the wallet as he critiqued the thief's skills.
Realizing that several of their fellow thieves had been caught, the remaining pickpockets quickly sensed something was off.
Exchanging glances, they discreetly backed away and slipped into the crowd.
*"I knew Haiti’s security was bad before we arrived, but this is ridiculous. These guys are robbing people in broad daylight, and no one even seems to care."*
Phil dusted off his hands and released the pleading thief, watching him flee in panic.
For pickpockets to operate so openly spoke volumes about the dire state of public security in Haiti.
It reminded him of his time in Michigan.
*"Maybe this actually works in our favor."*
Unlike Phil, Agent Zhou saw the situation differently.
A broken, lawless Haiti would make their mission easier. If security were too tight, their operations would be hindered. After all, their mission was not authorized by the Haitian government—technically, it was an illegal operation.
*"Fair enough, you might have a point."*
Phil shrugged, acknowledging Zhou's reasoning.
Glancing at the crowd, he couldn't help but ask,
*"So, what’s our next move?"*
*"Leave it to me."*
Hearing Phil's question, Joey stepped forward confidently.
Walking into the bustling crowd, he raised his voice and said,
*"I need a guide."*
The noisy crowd fell silent for a few seconds.
Then, several dark-skinned Haitians immediately stepped forward, speaking in broken English:
*"Pick me, sir! I know all the tourist spots in Haiti, and I can get you the best hotel deals!"*
*"Choose me, sir! I know people in the bars—I can take you to the most thrilling places!"*
*"Only 300 gourdes, sir! That’s the best deal you’ll find! I can provide accommodations and meals, too!"*
*"Sir, pick me! No matter what you're looking for, I can get it for you. In fact, I have information on many young Haitian girls—if you're interested, I can..."*
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 338: The Tour Guide
In front of Megratte International Airport, Haiti.
A group of five or six Haitians surrounded Joey, speaking broken English as they eagerly tried to attract customers.
Due to colonial influences from the past century, Haiti’s official languages are primarily French and Haitian Creole. However, in recent decades, with the growing influence of the United States, English has gradually become a common language for locals to learn—especially for vendors near the airport.
These vendors, having interacted with tourists from all over the world for years, had naturally picked up some basic conversational skills.
Taking a few steps back to put some distance between himself and the overly "enthusiastic" crowd, Joey scanned their eager faces before selecting the one that seemed the most trustworthy to be their guide for the trip.
"You’ll do."
"Thank you, sir!"
The chosen Haitian man, with dark skin, immediately lit up with excitement. He eagerly extended his hand, attempting to take Joey’s luggage.
"I prefer to carry it myself."
Joey deftly avoided the man’s outstretched hand. His backpack contained a voodoo doll, so he naturally didn’t want to let anyone else handle it.
The guide showed no sign of displeasure at Joey’s refusal. Instead, he continued to smile broadly.
"I understand, sir. In fact, I was just about to remind you—when traveling in Haiti, always keep a close eye on your belongings. If you're carrying something, make sure it’s within your sight or wear your bag on the front."
"In recent years, due to droughts and earthquakes, crime here has worsened. Many tourists have had their belongings stolen as soon as they left the airport. Because of these incidents, fewer people are visiting Haiti, and our businesses have suffered greatly as a result."
From the guide’s words, Joey got a rough understanding of Haiti’s current situation.
Last year’s devastating earthquake had crippled the local economy. Even for a wealthy nation, a disaster of that scale would have been catastrophic—let alone for Haiti, a country with no real ability to rebuild. The government at the time had completely collapsed.
Hundreds of thousands were left homeless. The ensuing chaos and riots ultimately led to the downfall of the previous administration.
However, the newly formed government was no better.
The new president had solidified his rule with the support of voodoo practitioners, instilling fear in the people and suppressing any opposition.
"If I remember correctly, after the earthquake, many countries around the world donated aid to Haiti. The U.S. alone contributed over a hundred million dollars in relief funds, didn’t they?"
Hearing the mention of the earthquake, Angela, who was standing nearby, couldn’t help but speak up.
"Donations? That money never reached us. No matter how much aid the world sends, it all ends up in the pockets of the government and the president. If you visit the disaster-stricken areas, you'll see—they haven’t changed a bit since the earthquake. The so-called 'international officials' come here, take a few photos, and leave. They don’t care whether we live or die."
It was clear that dissatisfaction with government corruption had been brewing among Haitians for a long time.
In fact, every new president promised to fight corruption before taking office, only to turn around and fill their own pockets once they were in power. Over time, the Haitian people had completely lost faith in elections.
After venting his frustrations, the guide suddenly realized that he had been complaining instead of doing his job.
"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen…"
Fearing that he might scare off his rare customers, he quickly adjusted his expression and flashed a bright smile, revealing his white teeth.
"Despite the damage caused by the earthquake, the downtown area of Port-au-Prince has been mostly restored. Your travel plans won’t be affected. From now on, I, San Chedrou, will be your guide. You can just call me San."
Having a local Haitian guide indeed made things much easier for Amanda’s team.
With San’s help, they boarded an old minibus and set off toward Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti.
As they drove, they saw many people wandering the streets, dressed in tattered clothes with blank, lifeless expressions. On both sides of the road, collapsed and crumbling houses were everywhere. Some Haitians were still living in the ruins, using nothing more than pieces of cloth as makeshift roofs to shield themselves from the sun.
"…"
Although Amanda’s team had read various reports about Haiti’s dire conditions before their mission, witnessing it firsthand was an entirely different experience.
The weight of what they saw settled heavily in their hearts.
Sensing the somber atmosphere inside the minibus, San, who had been enthusiastically introducing different landmarks, tactfully fell silent as well.
For the next several minutes, they traveled in silence.
Gradually, the scenery outside began to change. The number of collapsed buildings decreased, replaced by signs of life—street vendors hawking their goods, lively chatter, and even the occasional tall building appearing in the distance.
"Alright, esteemed guests, we’ve now entered Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti. This is the country’s most bustling city and a major tourist destination. Many attractions are located here, though some have been damaged by the earthquake."
Through the minibus windows, Amanda and her team could see vendors lining the streets, selling local snacks, fruits, and vegetables. Small groups of Haitians moved among the stalls, carefully selecting their purchases.
Some of the products even had familiar English labels, a reminder that, as Haiti’s industrial center, Port-au-Prince had industries such as sugar refining, rice milling, cement production, pharmaceuticals, shoemaking, and garment manufacturing. However, due to foreign investment, these industries were now largely controlled by American businesses.
"In a moment, I’ll take you to your accommodations. Once we arrive, you’re free to rest or explore at your own pace. There are many local vendors near the hotel, so feel free to shop around. However, keep in mind that they often overcharge tourists. In general, the price of local snacks or small goods shouldn’t exceed thirty gourdes."
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 339: Investigation*
Inside the minibus, Sang used his broken English to introduce Amanda and her team to the key tourist attractions in Haiti.
If they had been regular tourists, they would have naturally listened with full attention. However, Amanda and her team were only disguising themselves as tourists for the sake of their mission.
From the moment they boarded the vehicle, the team had been observing everything around them, searching for clues that might aid their upcoming operation.
Unaware of the group's lack of focus, Sang continued his explanation.
"There are certain places in Haiti that regular tourists cannot approach..."
Upon hearing this, Spiker, who had been looking outside the vehicle, withdrew his gaze and asked, "Could you tell us which places those are, Sang?"
His question drew the attention of the others, bringing them back to the conversation.
"Of course," Sang nodded and began explaining. "Mainly, these are government buildings, such as the presidential palace, as well as Vodou temples. There's a well-known saying in Haiti: 'Better to offend the rich than to offend Vodou.' Vodou is the most powerful religious force in Haiti, and everyone here believes that Vodou priests wield powerful magic. So, if you see someone dressed differently from the locals, there’s a high chance they belong to the Vodou community."
"At that point, you must never provoke them. If you anger a Vodou priest, they might turn you into a terrifying 'zombie' under their control."
From Sang’s description, it was clear how deeply Vodou was embedded in Haitian beliefs. Even the average Haitian citizen understood its power and influence.
However, while Sang's warning was meant to be helpful, Amanda’s team was more interested in what he had said about the Vodou temples.
The fortune teller had previously warned of a great disaster looming over Haiti, one that was linked to the prophecy of the "Rise of Darkness."
The term "darkness" seemed to align closely with Vodou. After all, a faith that ruled through fear hardly seemed like a benevolent force.
...
"Alright, guests, we have arrived."
As the group was processing the information Sang had shared, the minibus finally arrived at their accommodation after navigating the narrow and bumpy streets of Port-au-Prince for over ten minutes.
After collecting his payment and handing a local SIM card to Joey, Sang flashed a grin, showing off his signature bright white teeth.
"If you need anything else, just give me a call."
Though Sang would have liked to continue accompanying Amanda’s group and earning more money, Joey had already made it clear that they preferred to handle the rest of their trip on their own. Reluctantly, Sang accepted his payment and, with a hint of regret, added, "Also, if any of you are looking for local girls to keep you company, I can—"
"Thank you, Sang. If we need anything, we’ll call you," Amanda cut him off coldly, signaling it was time for him to leave.
"No problem, my phone is always on. My number is on the paper I just gave you."
Making a phone gesture with his hand, Sang reluctantly took his leave, glancing back multiple times as he walked away.
Watching him go, Amanda let out a sigh of relief.
Having a guide had helped them avoid some trouble, but at the same time, it had restricted their movements. After all, they weren’t really here for sightseeing.
...
"The situation is bad, boss."
After a brief rest, Amanda’s team gathered to assess their current situation.
"I asked the hotel front desk and found out there's no internet access here. Also, the electricity gets cut off every night at 8 PM. I’m trying to use the SIM card we got from Sang, but the network is extremely unstable..."
As the team’s intelligence expert, Angela’s abilities would be significantly weakened without internet access.
"I also checked out the surrounding area," Phil added. "Finding suitable transportation won’t be easy. Many locals still rely on walking, and renting a car isn't simple either. There aren’t many rental agencies here. Maybe we should ask Sang if he can help."
Listening to Angela and Phil’s reports, Amanda’s frown deepened.
Haiti’s poor infrastructure was creating serious obstacles for their mission. Without resolving these basic issues, they wouldn’t be able to search for the location mentioned in the prophecy.
With a furrowed brow, Amanda turned to Spiker.
Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, he looked every bit the carefree tourist. Noticing Amanda’s gaze, he shrugged and said, "The situation is worse than I thought. Haitians don’t seem to drink tea. They prefer Coca-Cola."
"..."
Hearing that Spiker was concerned about such a trivial detail, Amanda felt an oncoming headache.
Taking a deep breath to suppress her frustration, she turned to the fortune teller, Joey.
"I spoke with Sang earlier. Because of electricity shortages, many buildings in Port-au-Prince experience power cuts at night—except for a few special locations, including a nightclub that’s popular among locals."
"So, that’s the intel you gathered? Don’t tell me your vision showed us partying in a nightclub," Amanda replied, barely restraining her irritation. Their mission was to prevent a disaster, yet the psychic and the fortune teller were behaving as if they were here for an actual vacation.
"I did see you all there," Joey admitted, "but that’s not the most important part. I asked Sang why, despite the electricity crisis, the nightclub always has power. He told me it’s because the club is controlled by the Vodou order."
"Vodou doesn’t just dominate Haiti’s religious landscape—it controls its economy too. Even the government wouldn’t dare cut off power to their establishments."
Hearing this, Amanda’s expression grew even more serious.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 340: Papa Legba
*Late Night, Port-au-Prince, Haiti*
Scattered lights dotted the Haitian capital. Due to the country's lack of electricity, residential power was cut off at night, leaving only a few select buildings—such as the presidential palace, wealthy neighborhoods, and areas controlled by Vodou practitioners—with limited power supply to sustain nighttime activities.
Out in the pitch-black sea, the chugging sound of an engine echoed as an old, worn-out fishing boat pulled into the harbor of Port-au-Prince.
“We’ve arrived at Port-au-Prince.”
On the boat, a dark-skinned Haitian fisherman, his skin rough from years at sea, called out in heavily accented Creole to the figure standing at the bow.
“Thank you.”
Carrying a black satchel, the monster hunter nodded slightly at the fisherman before leaping effortlessly onto the dilapidated dock, landing with a dull thud.
The fisherman muttered something in thickly accented Creole before starting up the engine again. The boat churned up waves as it quickly disappeared into the vast darkness of the ocean, vanishing from the monster hunter’s sight.
Watching the fisherman and his boat disappear, Geralt retracted his gaze and looked down at the crumbling dock beneath his feet.
Unlike Amanda and the others, who had chosen to enter the country through legal channels, the monster hunter had opted for a more direct—and forceful—approach.
Thanks to Haiti’s poor security and struggling economy, it was typically Haitians who smuggled themselves into other countries, not the other way around. After all, under normal circumstances, people sought to illegally immigrate to more prosperous nations. For a country as impoverished and underdeveloped as Haiti, even its own citizens faced dire hardships. Anyone smuggling themselves into Haiti would find no opportunities—only deeper despair.
As a result, Haiti’s border control was lax at best. Or rather, given the nation’s weak military power, it simply lacked the ability to enforce strict border security.
After all, they were already struggling to maintain order within their own country. How could they possibly afford to worry about their borders?
Standing on the dock, the monster hunter glanced toward the scattered lights flickering in the distance.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigar and lit it. The faint ember glowed in the darkness, briefly illuminating the tattered dock. Gripping his black satchel, Geralt took a step forward, heading toward the distant lights.
---
### *Inside a Vodou Temple, Somewhere in Haiti*
"Come forth, come forth, O mighty Empress, I pray for your gaze… O great Papa Legba, guide us, you who dwell at the crossroads, lead the Empress’s soul..."
A dimly lit Vodou temple flickered with dancing firelight.
Numerous Vodou priests, cloaked in robes, surrounded a central fire, chanting strange incantations under their breath.
At the heart of the ritual, a Haitian man lay motionless upon a fire-lit altar. His body was covered in intricate white symbols, his face painted completely in white. His closed eyes and eerily still form gave him an unsettling presence.
Had Lin Jiu and his group from London been present, they would have recognized the man immediately—he was Narcisse, the Vodou sorcerer they had previously clashed with over the zombi cadaver.
“Papa Legba, I offer this sacrifice in prayer for your guidance...”
The priests danced in a strange, ritualistic manner around the fire, their bodies adorned with various charms and trinkets—most of them made from bleached bones.
At the front of the altar, an elderly, frail-looking high priest knelt on the ground. A dried, shriveled head, roughly the size of a clenched fist, hung around his neck. Before him, a decapitated dog’s head rested on the altar, its lifeless eyes staring into the void as he bowed in devotion.
As the high priest prayed, the dog’s head began to change.
Thick, black blood oozed from its empty eye sockets, emitting a putrid stench. Slowly, the once-fresh head shriveled, as though something unseen was draining its life force. Within seconds, it disintegrated into a wisp of gray smoke, vanishing into the air.
The Vodou priests’ chanting grew louder, their voices filled with fervor at the sight of the vanishing dog’s head.
The high priest lifted his head. Through his clouded vision, he saw a figure emerging from the dissipating smoke—a dark-skinned man dressed in tattered clothes, leaning on a wooden cane.
*Papa Legba.*
In Haitian Vodou, Papa Legba was the gatekeeper of the spiritual realm, the intermediary between mortals and the powerful Loa deities. Every Vodou ceremony began and ended with offerings to him.
The dog was his sacred symbol.
“Papa Legba…”
Upon seeing the deity, the high priest pressed his forehead firmly to the ground.
As the Vodou high priest, he wielded great power and influence. But in the presence of a god, all earthly authority meant nothing.
Especially in a faith like Vodou, which thrived on fear and submission. The gods they worshipped were far from benevolent beings. Papa Legba, the ruler of crossroads, streets, and fate, was known to grant divine messages—but he was fickle and often led people to their doom.
“I know why you are here.”
Papa Legba limped forward, his cane tapping against the ground.
From the high priest’s perspective, all he could see was the god’s ragged, worn-out shoes, riddled with holes.
Under normal circumstances, a beggar dressed like this would have been cursed by Vodou practitioners for daring to enter their sacred temple.
*And yet…*
Not a single trace of disrespect appeared on the high priest’s face.
“The time has not yet come.”
Papa Legba’s voice was raspy and sharp, like a blade slicing through the high priest’s ears—yet at the same time, it felt like a whisper brushing against his soul.
“The countless souls consumed by despair will form the key to unlocking the gates of Hell. When the time comes, I will reveal my prophecy to you.”
Hearing Papa Legba’s words, the high priest’s expression shifted slightly.
Pressing his forehead harder against the cold, stone floor, he summoned his courage to ask, “Then, Papa Legba, when will that time come?”
“You will know when it happens.”
Papa Legba did not answer. Instead, he grinned, revealing a mouth full of decayed, rotting teeth.
From within the dark crevices of his gums, tiny, writhing insects could be seen squirming about.
“……”
As Papa Legba’s voice faded, the high priest once again heard the rhythmic chanting of his fellow priests.
Cautiously, he lifted his head—only to find that the god had already disappeared.
The high priest let out a small, shaky breath, relieved yet unsettled.
Turning his gaze back to the other priests, he realized that none of them seemed to have noticed what had just transpired.
---
*(End of Chapter)*
