The Wrath of the Unchained
Chapter 56 - The Silent Reckoning

Chapter 56: Chapter 56 - The Silent Reckoning

Lusweti and his men split into three distinct teams, each one tasked with a critical objective. The operation had to be swift and silent. They were deep in enemy territory, and every second counted.

Lusweti himself chose the most dangerous route—the streets. There, he would cleanse the filth that walked freely, the mercenaries who brutalized innocents without a second thought. Though fury burned in his chest like molten lava, he locked it deep within. Now was not the time. The streets would run red, but not from recklessness.

He crouched down beside the group of young tunnel runners—the kids who’d bravely helped them navigate this twisted underbelly of Kilwa. "Stay here, hidden," he whispered. "What comes next is chaos. But we will return."

Their eyes, wide and uncertain, nodded back silently. Even the smallest among them held a deep understanding of the danger that brewed in the air.

Team One – Leader Irungu

Mission: Palace Recon and Rescue

Irungu led his unit with grim precision, navigating the narrow tunnels toward the palace’s underbelly. The air grew colder as they advanced, the scent of mildew and iron clinging to the walls. They finally reached the dungeon cells—and what they saw halted them.

There, barely clinging to life, were Mshale and the other four delegates.

Their bodies were gaunt, ribs protruding under torn garments. Bloodied welts marred their skin. Lips cracked from dehydration. Their eyes, once bright with purpose, were dull but still flickering with something faint—hope.

"Open the damn cells," Irungu growled, voice trembling with both fury and reverence.

One warrior knelt beside Mshale, offering water from a leather pouch. Mshale took it weakly, unable to speak, tears trailing down his dirt-smeared face.

"Monsters did this..." whispered a younger warrior, his voice tight.

"Irungu, how can we let this go unpunished?" another hissed.

"We won’t," Irungu said coldly. "But we strike with purpose, not vengeance. Get them out. The children in the tunnels will care for them while we move forward."

One warrior snarled, "Why should we help these people? They let this happen."

Irungu turned sharply, his eyes steel. "We are not here for revenge. We are here for justice. Nuri does not trade humanity for hatred. We end this, and we do it the right way."

The team lifted the broken delegates, carrying them carefully. Then, cloaked in shadows, they entered the palace.

Inside, gold-lined walls glimmered under dim torchlight. The scent of incense clashed with the stench of wine and unwashed mercenaries. Laughter echoed through the halls.

They found the first group of mercenaries gambling and drinking. Their armor lay scattered, their weapons leaned against the wall.

Irungu gave the signal.

Silent as ghosts, the warriors moved.

Knives slashed throats before alarms could be raised. Arrows pierced hearts mid-laughter. One mercenary managed a strangled gurgle before being slammed into a pillar and silenced. The palace became a tomb of whispers and shadows.

They hid the bodies beneath tables, behind drapes, inside closets. The blood was smeared away with discarded cloth. Every step was deliberate. Every breath, measured.

Team Two – Leader Oduor

Mission: Docks and Fort Surveillance

Oduor’s team emerged from the sewers near the docks. The smell of salt, fish, and sweat struck them hard. They crouched behind crates, observing.

Gigantic warships swayed in the moonlit harbor. Fires blazed in barrels as mercenaries laughed and celebrated under the stars. The docks were alive with cruelty.

Then they saw them.

Hundreds—maybe thousands—of Kilwa’s people crammed into metal cages, their bodies twisted unnaturally to fit. Mothers clutched children who had stopped crying days ago. Men stared blankly through bars, their spirit eroded. Silk robes turned rags. Wealth and class meant nothing here.

Oduor gritted his teeth. One of his warriors muttered, "They treat them like cattle. We must free them."

"We will," Oduor said, voice hushed but firm. "But not now. They are bait. If we charge now, we all die—and so do they."

They slinked around the edge of the harbor to the fort—Almeida’s stronghold.

Stone walls loomed like giants, cannons mounted along the ramparts. Dozens of armed guards patrolled. Muskets. Explosives. Precision.

A warrior whispered, "This place is a death trap."

"We’ll need more than swords to break it," another added.

"Then we’ll find a way," Oduor said. "But first, we regroup."

They retreated back into the tunnels, their eyes lingering on the enslaved.

"We will come back for you," Oduor whispered, the promise etched into his soul.

Team Three – Leader Lusweti

Mission: Street Elimination

The night air in the streets of Kilwa was thick with moisture and bloodlust. Lusweti’s team wore the silence like armor, moving through alleyways like phantoms. Any mercenary they saw met a swift, silent end.

One leaned against a wall, relieving himself. Lusweti’s blade slid into his side, hand clamping his mouth until he collapsed quietly.

Another group played dice near an empty market. A warrior threw a stone in the opposite direction—when two turned to check, the others pounced. Swords across throats, necks twisted, muffled gasps.

A patrol of four marched through the square. Lusweti gestured, and his warriors surrounded. They attacked from the shadows—one impaled from behind, another dragged into a nearby cart and smothered.

A third tried to raise an alarm.

Lusweti hurled a small dagger that pinned his hand to the wall. Before he could scream, the hilt of a sword smashed into his skull.

The warrior beside him hissed, "These men kill children for sport."

"They won’t get another chance," Lusweti said, dragging the body into the darkness. "We end this before dawn."

Meanwhile

In the heart of the fort, General Almeida stood on the upper balcony, watching the moonlight dance on the water.

He had noticed something strange.

Fewer reports. A scout late. A patrol gone silent.

He sipped from a goblet, unease coiling in his gut like a snake.

"Where is Captain Jano?" he asked a soldier nearby.

The man blinked. "He was posted to the palace, sir."

"No one returns from that palace," Almeida muttered.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He peered into the darkness beyond the walls. "So... they’ve come."

He turned to his second-in-command. "Sound no alarms. But double the guards. If Nuri is here, they will not live to see the sun."

Still, a chill spread through him. The silence had become too loud. And silence was the weapon of ghosts.

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