Africa, a continent of drought, wilderness, and mystery.
The advent of the supernatural era seemed to mean little to the more than fifty countries on this continent.
Major, powerful, and wealthy nations established their own supernatural search and countermeasures departments. Some African countries followed suit by picking a random office, hanging up a sign, and stuffing a few people inside, and that became the relevant department.
After all, in Africa, where tribal conflicts and wars never ceased, many military governments and makeshift administrations struggled even to perform normal government functions. How could they possibly have the money and manpower to pour into this bottomless pit?
In a hillside cave beside a desert in an inland African country, a unit of nongovernmental tribal fighters was stationed.
This tribal militia possessed a dual nature: depending on the Beacon Nation's needs, they could switch freely between freedom fighters and terrorists.
Unfortunately, today it was their turn to play terrorists.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!"
"Bang!"
Fierce gunfire and dazzling muzzle flashes erupted throughout the dark cave, and the air reeked of choking gun smoke and pungent blood.
"Fuck, is this Superman?!"
A heavily bearded Black militiaman huddled in a passage around a corner, clutching an AK-47. His face was filled with terror, and he could hardly believe what he had just seen.
A small figure in a tactical helmet and combat uniform had suddenly charged into the cave carrying a heavy machine gun. Its bullets had swept through like a raging storm, shredding several of his companions into scraps of mangled flesh.
How was that possible?!
That was a heavy machine gun! Firing one while carrying it in bare hands-the recoil alone could knock someone unconscious.
Yet that little figure, who appeared no taller than a meter and a half, could move freely with the heavy machine