The Imperial Hunter - 167: Beasts of the Tropics (7)
The group that included Awakened Ability Users turned out to be Duqun and Pawang shamans. Calling in shamans to perform rituals when building factories or drilling oil wells was a routine part of daily life for people in this country. Unaware foreign businessmen often panicked at the sight. In a nation where the vast majority were devout Muslims, what kind of idolatry was this?
"Begin."
At the Sultana's command, the shamans bowed their heads respectfully and set up the ritual site. They placed a cow's head wrapped in cloth at the front, spread out a mat before it, and arranged a modest offering of food and ritual items on the mat like a sacrificial altar. Assistants played a stringed instrument resembling a gayageum and bamboo flutes to accompany the rite. The elderly male shaman chanted spells in a singsong voice, while the middle-aged female shaman bent her hands like eagle talons and performed eerie movements in front of the mat. Each jerky pose carried some symbolic meaning.
The chanting shaman meticulously rolled a cigarette by hand. The filling included unidentifiable bone dust and animal fur.
"How much does a ritual like this cost?"
I asked, and the Sultana answered nonchalantly.
"In the old days, summoning one potent shaman cost around 1.5 billion rupiah, but prices have risen lately—over 2 billion now. If a highly spiritual shaman prepares an equally potent offering, they can demand up to 3 billion."
"Highly spiritual" meant a large mana field, no doubt. That cow head up front must have been from an Awakened Being in life. Three billion rupiah was about $200,000 USD. As a mage, it was amusing to think such worthless shamanistic spending formed one pillar of global Awakened Being hunting demand.
"So how much did preparing this site cost?"
"I'm not sure exactly—I left it to my subordinates. Wait a moment."
After exchanging a few words with her attendant, the Sultana gave the precise figure.
"A total of 11.5 billion rupiah."
"More expensive than expected."
"I summoned multiple shamans, so it's unavoidable. Pawang Harimau to ward off tigers, Pawang Buaya for crocodiles, Pawang Hujan for floods, and Duqun to drive out termites and evil spirits. Bringing in four renowned ones for 11.5 billion is actually a bargain."
"Still not cheap. I'll cover half the cost."
At that, the Sultana let out a soft laugh.
"My friend, I appreciate the sentiment, but this is a rite I need for myself—you needn't concern yourself. I simply wish to prevent any complaints later about outsiders bringing bad luck if something goes wrong. Thus, this falls under purifying the people and steadying their hearts, a duty befitting me, the ruler of this land. A sovereign's qualification stems from responsibility. How could I share that burden with another?"
"……."
"Though we've all been thrust into this unforeseen age of mystery, I do not believe the shamans' prophecies that 'malevolent tiger spirits' lurk behind beasts that harm people and all manner of natural disasters. It would be easier to accept if they blamed the 'True Ones.' Therefore, this ritual is ultimately a formal act of governance, and the expenditure is merely one branch of administrative costs."
With a touch of cynicism, the Sultana puffed on her cigarette and waited for the rite to end. The shamans concluded by digging a hole, burying the cow head, and chanting the final spells while stamping barefoot on the earth. Each took about ten minutes, so by the time it finished, it was time for afternoon prayers to Allah. The call to prayer echoed from distant mosques, mingled with alarm clocks ringing here and there. Watching the shamans who had just offered to spirits now unroll their prayer mats and face Mecca was, to an observer, quite amusing.
Next, we headed to the Laskar armory.
"I'll assign guides, so feel free to select weapons and gear for the excursion. I'll change and join you shortly."
She couldn't very well trek through the jungle in her glittering traditional attire. Leaving two Laskar members behind, the Sultana departed with her attendant. Kyung-tae poked around the weapon racks and spoke in Korean.
"If she's going herself, the odds of a trap are slim... Maybe she just wants to gauge our skills? Wonder how much value we'd have as an armed alliance in the new era?"
Krut's interpretation was English to Indonesian, so our Korean conversation stayed private. Still, I checked for any sign he'd understood before replying.
"Could also be her showing off her own prowess and investment potential. To prevent me seeking other partners later and make me view her proposal more favorably."
"That offer did come out of nowhere."
"I held off to avoid rushing into a mistake, but I don't see any downside to accepting."
"Got it... Huh, what's this?"
What caught Kyung-tae's eye was a rod with a bomb attached to the end. Switching to English to ask what it was, the Laskar member explained via Krut's translation.
"That's called a bom-tombak. An Awakened Being hunting bomb spear. Pull the safety pin at the end and hurl it at the prey. It's a shaped charge—even a Dark-Eyed Elephant drops dead in one hit if it lands right. But range control is tricky, and accuracy's tough... So only brave ali-sikaris use it to show off their daring."
"Dark-Eyed Elephant? Ali-sikari?"
Kyung-tae tilted his head, and Krut noticeably stumbled. The explanation revealed another case where no direct word-for-word equivalent existed between languages. "Dark Eyes" or glap matta distinguished wild Awakened Beings driven by blind rage from ordinary ones—animals possessed by the "malevolent tiger spirit" hantu belian, their eyes shrouded in darkness. Originally a term for frenzied humans, it shifted to popular use after some news report. And ali-sikari meant a highly experienced hunter. There were various titles like tuqang-sikari, ali-sikari, tuqang-pembrus, ali-pembrus based on skill and role, all just "hunter" in English—making interpretation a headache. Explaining in full sentences every time was impractical.
Satisfied, Kyung-tae hefted a spear, tested its weight and balance, and grinned. "Oho."
"Like it?"
"They say it's great for showing boldness, so as the guy handling hyungnim's face for the organization, I gotta throw one. What do you think of the craftsmanship, hyungnim?"
"Not shoddy. Won't go off accidentally."
"Good enough. I'll grab a couple—just in case... Hey, Krut, ask them how they usually carry these bom-tombak spears? They don't just dangle 'em loose."
The latter was in English. While Kyung-tae questioned the Laskar members again, I handled the spears myself, feeling their grip by type. Despite their crude look, they had unexpectedly fine balance regardless of size—the sweet spot for throwing was precisely where the center of gravity sat. The can-like warhead contained a funnel-shaped shaped charge. "Shaped" because it was molded into form. This concave explosive focused 30% of its pressure straight forward on detonation. Add a metal plate to the funnel, and you had the explosively formed penetrators (EFPs) the Black Sea Party loved. The rounded tip, accounting for air resistance, had a simple pressure fuse on springs. The tight pin was the only safety.
Definitely finicky on range. Too far, and it misses—its hefty inertia made it sluggish against agile cats like tigers, even non-Awakened ones dodging on pure instinct. Too close, and the hunter himself entered the blast radius. The base was reinforced, but depending on angle, fragments could hit the thrower.
I set the spear down.
Not for me.
The risk was manageable, but it lacked dignity. For hunting with a pre-modern old-timer, the organization's head needed a more "refined" weapon. Mine waited deep in the armory, segregated from the rest. Opening the rectangular case of rifles, Kyung-tae—who'd already picked his main and sidearms—whistled as he caught up.
"Whoa... That's one hell of a classic."
A stately double-barreled hunting rifle, side-by-side, with the artisan's signature engraved. Custom masterpieces from makers like England's Holland & Holland, Ireland's John Rigby, Spain's Grulla Armas, Italy's Fabbri, Austria's Peter Oberhammer Jagdwaffen—longtime bespoke-only firms where top-line models started over 100,000 euros. That's at least 130 million won. And money alone didn't guarantee purchase; build times ran 1-3 years, leading to backlogs and used pieces fetching more than new.
The Sultana's collection boasted thirty-one such lavish rifles in various calibers, but courtesy demanded I ask.
"Mind if I use this?"
The Laskar member replied instantly upon translation.
"Of course, Bapak Anonymitas. You're to have whatever you wish."
"Appreciated. I'd like to test-fire. Prepare, please."
"Right away."
While one fetched live rounds, I assembled the separated barrel and stock, securing the carry sling. Even these simple straps came bespoke from brands, sometimes pricier than the gun depending on the artisan's leather and craft. The member returned lugging a heavy ammo crate topped with a dedicated loader. Crack, thud! He snapped the wire and pried the lid. Inside gleamed massive golden cartridges: .700 Nitro Express. Famous for shattering thick skulls of elephants or rhinos in one shot—heavy, high-velocity rounds. Pure kinetic energy-wise, they yielded to .50 BMG machine gun rounds, but their mass and stopping power made direct comparisons meaningless; they bludgeoned prey to death. At exactly 1,000 grains bullet weight, nicknamed "A Thousand Grain."
Click.
The sound of Suyeon loading her rifle. She'd chosen a bolt-action box-magazine shotgun for Nitro Express—intent on portable one-shot-kill firepower for any Awakened Being, beast or human, in close-quarters jungle. Plus, elegance to please the Sultana. Add a trauma kit for casualties. As we donned body armor from the armory and slung bandoliers, the Sultana returned in practical garb, sans pipe. Seeing my rifle, she smiled warmly.
"Oh, the 18-pound H&H. Splendid piece. Some masterpieces defy time's passage. You look just like Arjuna with it."
Hindu gods' names were common idioms here. Calling someone Arjuna meant handsome, loyal, pious, brave, strong of spirit.
"Was about to test-fire. Care to join?"
She gestured amiably.
"Go ahead. I'll follow shortly."