I Was Sent To The Zulu War Era With A System

  The township was lively as always and filled with endless activity. The smell of diesel from cars passing by mixed with vetkoek smells from tuckshops was a residual smell for the people. The sun was burning like hell but no one in the township seemed to mind since it was the norm, nothing new there. 

  

  

  

  

    Amidst all of this, children's laughter could be heard from across the road where some of them were kicking up dust with wooden sticks, reminding you of old days how Zulu kings and the Zulu culture in general fought. This, however brief, seemed to be the only joy children were allowed to experience in today's unforgiving world.

  

  

  

  

  

    Despite the sweat gleaming on his forehead, Lwazi had his hoodie up as he stood with his back against the crumbling wall of MaZulu's tuck shop. Now that he is twenty-two, he knows that surviving requires knowing how to trust and how to time things properly. As he sat and scanned the street, he looked more like a hawk on the prowl.

  

  

  

  

  

    Lwazi believed being a child of the township enabled him to one day dream of schoolbooks and soccer fields. As a man, those dreams have been replaced with knowing how to use a blade instead of a pen. The heat certainly didn't help, and coupled with the weight of a life that has become heavier with time, it certainly limited him.

  

  

  

  

  

    As soft as her voice was, when Nomvula spoke about the ancestors, the warriors, she encased her words with honor and courage. Lwazi's father Siphiwe taught him to find strength in patience. Siphiwe, a mechanic with calloused hands and a soft laugh, certainly equipped him with great lessons but ultimately, they meant nothing in reality. Lwazi had to endure the grim reality of the streets and claim power, unimaginably slowly but incredibly bloodily.

  

  

  

  

  

    Three missed calls and a text message from Musa, his oldest friend, lit up his phone with its shattered screen. 

  

  

  

  

  

    " Yo man, the job is on, Same time as always, and don't be late." 

  

  

  

  

  

    He couldn't push his thumb to the text. Given the troubles of their friendship, the one-time brother he shared lunch with and skipped class with, it's not like it would hurt him to be.

  

  

  

  

  

    "Get in shape man," Musa would lovingly taunt while also dodging imaginary blows from Lwazi. 

  

  

  

  

  

    It feels like an eternity ago now Lwazi only recalled the dark changes that descended upon him. The gang shifted everything, the relationships Lwazi had twisted everything into something razor sharp, ultimately savage. Due to so many complications, Lwazi finally suffered far more injuries than they had to just turn down a regular job.

  

  

  

    But the gang? Their hold was honestly, like cement. If you ever tried or ever attempted to walk away, you would think twice, second-guessing that decision It was not just losing your place or your pride. You're gambling with your whole damn life. That's the cost, and everyone knew, even if we act otherwise.

  

  

  

  

    "Still hiding under that hoodie like a tortoise?" Thandi's voice cut in, snapping Lwazi out of his spiral.

  

  

  

  

  

    She walked up, moving with confidence, her braids swinging from side to side, a cheeky grin on her face, half mischief and half true warmth. She leaned into the wall giving him that look, eyes sparkling with pure defiance, that look that got them both kicked out of MaZulu's shop when they were kids for trying to steal some sweets, and they ran until their sides hurt with MaZulu's curses and the broom waving in the air. Even then, the laughter followed them all the way home!

  

  

  

  

    "You're gonna melt in that thing," she teased, nudging his arm ."The sun's trying to cook us alive, and you're out here dressing like it's winter."She could always read him, like his face was a book and she'd already memorized all the chapters.

  

  

  

  

  

    For a moment, Lwazi almost forgot himself. He smiled without meaning to, his lips curved before he even realized it. Not the tight, tired smirk people usually got from him, but something softer, you could tell it was genuine 

      "Oh, better to melt than let the world see my ugly mug, lol." he quipped, voice dry, but there was a hint of the old playfulness, the same easy back-and-forth that used to come so easily. 

  

  

  

    "Ugh. Whatever. You just want to look mysterious. Ma says you're brooding again, Lwazi. She worried, you know."

  

  

  

    The latter stung a little more than expected - his mom, full of worry, cooking while this hummed to himself, folding him into her arms the times he was small... that stuff sticks to you, even if you try not to hold onto it.

  

  

  

  

    Nomvula's worry was always present, lurking somewhere in the background. Like a shadow you'd never quite shake off. "I'm okay," he mumbled, voice so quiet he wasn't sure he could be heard, eyes fell to the chipped pavement. 

  

  

  

  

  

    "Tell Ma I'll come over for supper, maybe." Thandi's eyes softened but she didn't say anything else to Nomvula, just gave him a little nudge. 

  

  

  

  

  

    "You better, or she'll send me to go drag you back home, you know I will."

  

  

  

  

  

    The small spark of a moment they were sharing fizzled away when Lwazi's phone chimed, another message from Musa, sharp and demanding.

  

  

  

  

    With each vibration, he felt his guts twist tighter, a reminder that he was caught up in something bigger, darker, something that squeezed all the air out of his lungs, something that had to be more than this, smoke, blood, hustle just to survive.

  

  

  

    He thought of the stories of warriors and spirits told to him by his grandfather, tales of worlds where bravery meant something other than just surviving. As a child, he used to lie in bed dreaming of being that kind of hero, without fear, proud, unstoppable. And now? His dreams felt like they were lost forever to the weighing township haze and choices made out of desperation.

  

  

  

  

  

    "What am I even doing anymore?" he muttered, barely audible, eyes lifting to that endless, merciless blue sky.

  

  

  

  

  

    Just like that, the wailing of tires, harsh and collecting, invaded the calm. A black car navigated the bend slowly and methodically, windows dark enough to eclipse the afternoon sun. Lwazi's heart leapt into his throat. Instinct took over, as he felt his hand moving toward the blade tucked on his waist. Doors flew open, and bodies flooded from the car, faces he recognized and did not trust, Musa at the front. His eyes were frosty cold. Not even a little bit of a hint of the friend who used to drink and make jokes with him, This happened so fast.

  

  

  

  

  

    Lwazi's hands went up, with his body stiff voice "Musa, hold on," he pleaded, desperation thick in his throat. But it was too late, he knew he f*cked up someway or somehow, there wasn't even a glimpse of warning. Just the sound of gunfire, pain thundering through his chest, hot and blinding, everything sped up and nothing made sense to Lwazi's head, he was tilting toward darkness, the color and sound fading away. His last thought was less than a whisper, as if regret and shame washed over him, not for what a mess he made, but for what he would never get to live.

  

"What are you doing man, are you for real right now?" Lwazi said while his tears were on the verge of dropping.

  

  His hands flew up fast, and his body was locked like stone. "Musa, chill bro." But in the back of his mind, Lwazi knew that the streets don't hand out second chances and let you go that easily. The gunfire cracked through the air, tearing into his chest. His knees gave out, he was falling and the pavement was rushing up to meet him. The world tilted, light and sound slipping away. And in that final breath, he wasn't thinking about the hustle or the blood he'd spilled during his time with the gang. He was thinking about everything he'd never get to live, basically he was regretting everything, seeing himself dying.

  

  

  

    A calm voice randomly spoke out of nowhere, it was a bit ancient almost.

  

  

  

  

  

    System initializing...

  

  

  

  

  

    Without warning, jolted, like electricity running through his blood. His senses erupted, colors bent and twisted, body torn apart and then sewn back together, raw and wild.

  

  

  

  

  

    [Welcome, Host. You have been chosen by the Tribal Conquest System. Synchronization begins now. Adapting the host soul to a new host vessel.]

  

  

  

  

  

    He attempted to cry out, tried to fight, but again the sound did not exist. "No... what?" he thought but the System was not listening as it just kept on rolling, acting a little spiritual in some way. 

  

  

"What the hell is this? Did I die? Nah, this ain't heaven…or is it hell? Someone.."

  

    [Searching for a compatible era. Alignment successful. Integrating into historical template: Southern Africa, early 19th century. Host memory and consciousness are partially retained.]

  

  

  

    Heat was pressing in around him, thick and suffocating filled with smoke, blood, and sweat. He felt himself being pulled out of nothingness and his senses were screaming.

  

  

  

  

    [Synchronization: 92 percent. New body assigned. Identity: Ndabuko. Age: 19. Tribal Affiliation: Unknown. Status: Unarmed. Combat Instinct: Low. Leadership Potential: High.]

  

  

  

  

  

    There was a sharp *suck* of air. It was earthy and wild, not the oily smoke of the township he was used to. His back was pressed against the dirt ground. The ground was really rough. The wind moved and glossed over him, slowly rocking him, shining light in between his eyelids. He felt that his breath was still working and heaving at that. This body felt its potential, and was unique, with scars that didn't belong to him at all.

  

  

  

    Smoke wafted into the sky. The air was thick with the smell of old burning huts and blood. Images on the horizon flickered and were cast. 

  

"Nah… Something is off here, don't tell me… wait, this ain't the township anymore," Lwazi said in disbelief as he noticed changes around him that were unfamiliar.

  

  

    Was this the beginning after the tragic ending?