The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 55 - Ashes and Vengeance

General Simiyu exhaled, the weight of the mercenary threat finally lifting off his shoulders. One enemy had been neutralized, but another loomed large. Malik. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

From what he knew, Malik was a proud man, one who would not bend simply because of intelligence handed to him by an enemy. Persuasion would not be enough. To secure victory, Malik had to be eliminated.

But first, he needed to get him to the negotiating table.

King Lusweti and his ten warriors arrived in Kilwa under the cover of darkness. Their route through the ruins had been carefully planned, allowing them to slip into the city unnoticed. However, nothing could have prepared them for the devastation that awaited them.

The once-thriving coastal city had been reduced to a graveyard of ash and bone. The scent of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Rotting corpses littered the streets, their lifeless eyes staring into oblivion. Blood had dried in dark stains along the walls and pathways, as though the city itself had wept for its fallen.

Children lay in their parents’ embrace, their tiny bodies stiff and cold.

One of the warriors covered his mouth, his stomach churning. "By the spirits... what happened here?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Another man clutched the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. "This isn’t war. This is slaughter."

Lusweti sat atop his horse, his body rigid with fury. The reins trembled in his grip as he forced himself to keep his composure. His people had suffered in this war, but what had been done here was beyond cruelty. Innocents had been butchered.

"Who did this?" Lusweti’s voice was a low growl, filled with barely contained rage. "These people were non-combatants! Who dares stain our battle with such dishonor?"

"My King," one of his men urged, eyes scanning the ruins warily. "We need to get off the streets. If the ones responsible are still here, they may be watching."

Lusweti clenched his jaw. Every part of him wanted to storm the Kilwa palace and demand answers, but that would be reckless. Charging into an enemy’s stronghold blind was a fool’s move.

"You’re right," he admitted, voice strained. "We move to the tunnels. We gather intelligence first, then we strike."

The tunnels beneath Kilwa were damp and narrow, the scent of seawater mingling with decay. The flickering light of their torches cast long, shifting shadows on the stone walls as they moved in silence. The deeper they went, the stronger Lusweti’s unease grew.

Then he heard it—a faint, muffled whimper. A tiny sound, almost swallowed by the tunnel’s stillness.

Lusweti raised a hand, signaling his men to halt. He slowly approached the source of the noise, sword drawn but held low. When he turned the corner, what he saw made his heart tighten in his chest.

Children.

Ten of them, huddled together against the wall, their thin bodies trembling. They were covered in grime, their tear-streaked faces pale with fear. One boy, no older than eight, clutched the hem of a ragged cloth, as though trying to disappear into its folds.

Lusweti sheathed his sword and lowered himself to one knee, his imposing form softening. "My name is Khayo Lusweti," he said gently. "I am the King of Nuri. My men and I are not here to harm you."

The children curled in on themselves, their eyes wide with terror.

"Please... don’t kill us," one whispered. "We don’t want to die."

Lusweti’s heart twisted. What kind of world had these children known, where even the mere presence of a warrior meant death?

"No one will hurt you," he promised. "But I need you to tell me what happened here. Help me so I can stop this."

A boy, smaller than the rest, stepped forward on unsteady legs. His face was streaked with dried tears and dirt, his voice barely above a whisper. "You promise?"

Lusweti met his gaze. "I swear it."

The boy swallowed hard before speaking. "It was a normal day... until the foreigners came. They grabbed people from the streets, chaining them like animals. If anyone fought back, they were killed on the spot. My friends were killed." His voice cracked. "Please... help us get revenge."

Lusweti’s fingers curled into a fist. The heat of his fury burned through his veins. To slaughter civilians was one thing. But to turn children into vengeful ghosts? That was unforgivable.

"Are there other survivors?" he asked.

"No one else," the boy murmured. "Only street kids like us knew the tunnels well enough to escape. The others... they’re all captured."

Lusweti exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. He placed a hand on the boy’s head, his touch firm but reassuring. "You’ve been brave, all of you. You survived, and that matters. But you don’t need to fight this battle alone anymore. From now on, you are under my protection. You will come with me to Nuri, where you will know nothing but safety and laughter."

The boy’s lips trembled, his expression crumbling as he let out a choked sob. "Really?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Really," Lusweti affirmed.

The child collapsed into Lusweti’s arms, sobbing. And one by one, the others followed, their small frames shaking as they clung to him.

Lusweti closed his eyes briefly, his grip tightening around them. No child should have to know this pain.

When they finally calmed, he turned to his men. "We have work to do. Almeida has gone too far. His life is forfeit."

The warriors straightened, their eyes burning with righteous fury.

"I want his head within three days. Our people are still imprisoned in the dungeons—we will find them and set them free."

"How should we proceed, My King?" one of his warriors asked.

Lusweti stood, his presence commanding. "We split into teams. One team will infiltrate the palace and map the enemy’s defenses. Another will scour the docks—if Almeida is moving slaves, that’s where we’ll find evidence. The rest of us will hunt down his enforcers in the streets and eliminate them quietly. No mercy. The ones responsible for this massacre will pay."

His men nodded, their eyes cold with determination.

"If you find any of Almeida’s men," Lusweti added, voice like steel, "kill them. Every last one."

With that, the warriors dispersed into the tunnels, their hearts heavy with vengeance.

Almeida’s reckoning had begun.