The night crackled with fire and chaos. Smoke coiled into the air like serpents, and the stench of blood and gunpowder clung to the battlefield. Amidst the storm, King Nzinga and his strike unit crept closer to the enemy’s heart, Lumingu’s main camp.
Baraka raised his hand, signaling the n to stop. In the flicker of torchlight, they could see the outline of the command tent, guarded by a wall of ard soldiers. Shadows moved, the Restorers, Lumingu’s most loyal killers.
"They know we’re coming," Baraka murmured, eyes narrowing.
Nzinga unsheathed his sword. "Then we finish this."
Before the words faded, the Restorers attacked, bursting from behind the tents like wraiths. Blades glead, and steel t steel in the night.
Baraka spun his twin daggers in his hands curved, slender, and deadly. One Restorer lunged at him, his blade aid for the throat. Baraka ducked, twisting low, then drove his knee into the man’s ribs. A sharp counterstrike followed, his dagger slicing through the tendons of the Restorer’s arm.
The enemy growled, switching grip, but Baraka was faster. He parried a second blow, turned the motion into a sweep, and sent the man sprawling into a burning cart. Flas caught on the Restorer’s cloak as he scread, rolling in agony.
Another ca from the flank — bigger, faster. Baraka’s scouts intervened, one firing a short-range musket shot that tore into the man’s leg. Baraka leapt, spinning midair, and brought both daggers down in an X-strike that finished the fight. His breath ca heavy, but his eyes never wavered.
Elsewhere, General Kazadi faced two Restorers at once. His massive fra towered over them, a wall of muscle and armor. His weapon of choice was a heavy cleaver-like sword, and in his hands, it looked like an extension of his will.
The first Restorer lunged low; Kazadi deflected with his forearm guard and slamd the hilt of his sword into the attacker’s jaw. The second tried to strike his exposed back, but Kazadi twisted, parried, and sent a crushing elbow into the man’s throat.
One staggered back, spitting blood. Kazadi pressed forward, his strikes precise despite his size. A downward blow shattered a Restorer’s guard, and the second parry disard the other completely.
"Tell Lumingu," Kazadi growled, blade at the man’s neck, "his kingdom of lies has fallen."
He drove the hilt into the Restorer’s temple, knocking him out cold. Around him, Nzinga’s n fought with renewed purpose. Within minutes, the last of Lumingu’s defenders had fallen or fled.
The tent stood unguarded.
Nzinga entered first, sword raised. Lumingu was inside, pacing frantically. His rich robes were stained with sweat, his eyes wild and bloodshot. The illusion of command had left him, he looked less like a ruler and more like a cornered animal.
"You... you have no right to be here!" he shouted, backing away. "You’ve dood Kongo! The Portuguese will crush us all without !"
Nzinga’s expression hardened. "They already have, Lumingu. You just helped them do it."
"You don’t understand!" Lumingu scread, voice cracking. "You think your ideals, can stop them? They are gods! They have ships that fly over the sea, fire that devours from miles away! I gave them what they wanted so Kongo would survive!"
Kazadi entered behind the King. "By selling your people like cattle?"
Lumingu turned, desperate. "They would have taken them anyway! At least this way, we had control!"
Nzinga stepped closer. "Control? You call chains control? You’ve dood our na for generations."
Two of Kazadi’s n rushed in and seized Lumingu. He struggled, shouting curses, but they forced him to his knees before the King.
"I am disappointed in you, Lumingu," Nzinga said softly, sheathing his sword. His voice was tired, not angry, not cold, just weary. "So much death. So much suffering... all for your petty ambition."
He sighed heavily. "You will pay for your cris before the people of Kongo. You will see their faces, hear their grief, and know the pain you caused."
Lumingu glared at him through strands of sweat-matted hair. "You’re weak," he hissed. "You and that Nuri boy, drears. You think you can fight the world with hope? You’ll fall without acomplishing anything. "
Nzinga t his gaze calmly. "Perhaps. But I’d rather die free than live as a slave."
He turned to Kazadi. "Bind him. No more blood today."
***
They erged from the tent to the rising dawn. Kazadi mounted a small hill and raised his horn.
A deep, thunderous blast echoed across the valley.
The fighting stilled. Confused cries turned into hesitant silence as both sides looked up. The Kongo banners were lifted high, but this ti, they were lowered again, a sign of surrender.
"Cease fighting!" Kazadi roared, voice cutting through the still air. "By order of King Nzinga, Lumingu has fallen! The war is over!"
A ripple spread through the battlefield. n dropped weapons. Others fell to their knees, exhausted and disbelieving. After days of death, the end had finally co.
Nzinga stood before his generals, Kazadi, Nsamba, Kabemba, and Mbele. The weariness on their faces was heavy; they had all lost n, brothers, friends.
"I have failed Kongo as its king," Nzinga said, voice solemn. "I let greed and ambition rot our house from within. Our soldiers lie dead in this field because I was blind to the poison in our ranks."
He turned toward Lumingu, bound and silent. "Let this man’s fate be a lesson. We will rebuild, but we will not forget. We will rest for a few days, tend to the wounded, and bury the fallen. And when we return to the capital, we will begin again, not as conquerors, but as sons of Kongo."
The generals exchanged looks, sha in their eyes. Nsamba was the first to speak. "We should have seen it sooner. We thought him only greedy, not treacherous."
Kabemba nodded grimly. "We danced to his tune like fools."
Nzinga placed a hand on Kazadi’s shoulder. "We all did. What matters now is what cos next. Kongo will rise again — not through deceit, but through strength and honor. n like Lumingu will never sink their fangs into our kingdom again."
***
Not long after, a Nuri scout arrived, his cloak torn and face streaked with ash. He bowed low before the King.
"Your Majesty," he said breathlessly. "Prince Khisa... he was gravely injured in battle. The dics say he’s alive, but only barely. They are preparing to return him to Nuri for recovery."
Nzinga’s expression darkened. "Injured? How bad?"
The scout shook his head. "Bad enough that he cannot stand. Ole Samoei sends word — once they reach Nuri, envoys will be dispatched for a diplomatic eting. The Shadow Guard will withdraw from Kongo and regroup. In the anti, Nuri asks only that you rebuild."
Nzinga nodded slowly. "And Khisa?"
The scout bowed again. "He said to tell you... ’The alliance has only begun.’"
Nzinga’s gaze softened. "That sounds like him," he murmured.
The scout saluted and departed. For a long while, Nzinga stood in silence, the sounds of weary soldiers tending to the wounded echoing around him.
He looked toward the east, where the light was breaking through the clouds.
"I will not waste your trust, Prince Khisa," he whispered. "Get well soon. We still have work to do."
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