I Was Sent To The Zulu War Era With A System

The Cost Of Survival

  Ndabuko remained on his knees in the dirt, clutching the bloody spear. Breathing had become nominal, there was now a heaviness in Ndabuko's chest. The dead were all around him spread like confetti on the desecrated ground. Bodies were turned grotesquely, as if caught in motion, frozen in the moment of terror or defenseMen, women, and children.. None had been spared. There were no victors in the fight, only sustenance.

  

  

  

    His heart raced still yet did so to a different rhythm, a different beat, which seemed to surpass the fear. It had become something deeper possibly rage, or mourning fused with confusion. It was a knowingness - that he had killed and yet had survived, and he had done this all at an instant of a waking moment in a world that was not his. Hands that had felt too strong, or too able, had saved a life. Had taken others. And those hands now trembled, no longer from physical exhaustion, but from carrying the burden of everything they had just accomplished.

  

  

  

   The silence in his mind was deafening. The system had frozen again. There were no more shimmering prompts, no more shimmering instructions in front of his eyes. Nothing guided his thoughts with a mechanical voice In a space there was no place for him.

  

  

  

  

    He pushed himself slowly to his feet. His limbs moved strangely easily. The body was moving again, as if it had learned to recognize the familiar soul within. When he picked up the spear, it felt comfortable in his hand, as though it had always belonged there. His eyes drifted over what was left of the village.

  

   The air was heavy with the scent of smoke, grey coils of smoke rising through the ruins from the collapsed huts and broken walls. Ash settled on the ground and the skin of the very few who still lived.

  

  

   Figure lay scattered and semi-conscious amidst the wreckage. Survivors crawled through the wreckage, broken and shocked. Some coughed in the smoke. Some stared at nothing. He saw the boy earlier, Sipho, propped up on his arms from under a fallen roof beam. He was alive, but his bare legs were stained with soot and his arms scraped and bruised.

  

  

   Ndabuko moved towards him slowly. The boy froze, with wide fearful eyes. He clutched a small, burnt stick in his tiny hands as if it were a weapon. What little body he had shaken. He looked like he was holding his breath.

  

  

  

  

   "I won't hurt you," Ndabuko said in a quiet but steady voice. He wasn't even sure his words would come out correctly, and yet they did. The language was strange, older than anything he had ever spoken, but it came flowing out of his mouth almost without thought, as if his mouth had shaped it his whole life. 

  

  

   Sipho continued to remain still, though his eyes darted back and forth between Ndabuko's face and the spear he held. He was studying him with caution. 

  

  

   "What is your name?" Ndabuko asked again, this time more gently. 

  

  

   There was a long pause followed by a whisper. "Sipho." 

  

  

   Ndabuko nodded his head slightly. "You're safe Sipho, I promise." 

  

  

   The stick in the boy's grip lowered somewhat. Not lowered or straightened giving Ndabuko the impression he was still startled, but he also no longer appeared to be fearful. 

  

  

   A tiny chime twinkled in his head reminding him of a memory falling back into place for the first time in ages. 

  

  

   [Objective Completed: Rescue a civilian. Reputation +1. Village Trust +2. 

  

   New Objective Available: Identify and Report to a Tribal Leader. Reward: Map Unlock + Experience Bonus.]

  

  

  

    Just as quickly, the voice disappeared again.

  

  

   He turned his gaze to the far-off hills beyond the village where skinny plumes of smoke were still protruding upward. Somewhere out there, the remains of authority must have reconvened.

  

  

   "Sipho," he said, watching the horizon. "Is there someone in charge? Your chief. Where did he go?"

  

  

   The boy hesitated and then pointed toward the exit of the valley. "Chief Bheka. He ran with the warriors. To the river. He said they will meet again near the big rock."

  

  

   "Will you take me to him?" 

  

  

   Sipho looked skeptical. He pressed his lips together, but after a moment, nodded once. 

  

  

   They moved slowly through what was left of the settlement, walking by the dwellings that had fallen, and the tree that had fallen over. The further they went, the more wild the land became. Bush crept in freely from the edges, reclaiming what was left of the unsuitable earth. The branches buckled over their heads, swaying as if they were trying to reach the ground, long arms reaching toward refuge. The air was cooler here, shaded by the trees, heavy with stillness.

  

  

  

  

    Neither of them said much. Ndabuko kept scanning the path. Every shadow looked threatening. Every rustle was a prelude to danger. Although Sipho walked with a limp he made no complaints. He was too young for his eyes to look so old.

  

  

  

  

    "Why did they come?" Ndabuko eventually asked. "Why did they destroy your village?"

  

  

  

  

    Sipho swallowed hard. "They came from the north. Men dressed in lion skins with red faces. They kill what they do not take. They serve something more important than themselves. Someone who wishes to own everything."

  

  

  

  

    "Who?"

  

  

  

  

    There was confusion again, but the response came.

  

  

  

  

    "Mbuso the Red."

  

  

  

  

    The name rang inside of him as if it sounded on a bell. He had never heard of him, but it felt heavy. It felt powerful. Powerful like the kind that turns men into monsters.

  

  

  

  

    Soon they entered a clearing and a few more warriors had gathered. A small bit under twenty. Many were hurt. Their clothes were torn and stained. Women knelt by the wounded. Children clung to what little they had. The fight had left their veins, but their weapons still hung.

  

  

  

  

    A man stood in the middle of the compound. He was tall and wide, with eyes like storm clouds, with a cut running along the length of his shoulder. He turned as the second Ndabuko and Sipho entered the compound. His eyes were bright, untrusting, as if he was waiting for one more enemy to appear and finish the first job.

  

  

  

  

    "You," he shouted. "Who are you?"

  

  

  

  

    Ndabuko didn't flinch. They were locked, he and the man. He was aware of the tension in the crowd, but stayed rooted to the ground.

  

  

  

  

    "I woke up during the raid," he said, slightly raising his voice. "I don't know how or why. But I fought. I saved your boy."

  

  

  

  

    Sipho stepped forward, his head down, but his voice clear. "He saved me, Chief Bheka. He killed two of them."

  

  

  

  

    A few of the warriors looked at one another. Some whispered to one another. Others just nodded in somberness. Chief Bheka said nothing. He just eyed Ndabuko.

  

  

  

  

    "You do not have any markings. No clan. And yet you speak like one of us. You hold a spear like it is your second limb." His voice held the edge of disbelief. "What is your name?"

  

  

  

  

   "Ndabuko."

  

   It slipped from his lips without uncertainty. It felt foreign and familiar. Like something he had been waiting to occupy.

  

   Bheka stared at him a moment longer, then asked again. "Why would a stranger risk their life for a village, not their own? You said you don't know how you arrived here. Why should I accept that?"

  

   "You shouldn't," Ndabuko said, voice without wavering. "But I had no purpose to kill your enemies that ended with me living."

  

   The response made the chief consider. But it wasn't a plea. It was the truth, stripped bare without fluff.

  

   "You have drawn it," Bheka said. "This land remembers every drop."

  

   Another pulse crested in Ndabuko's mind.

  

   [Intervention with Tribal Leader Complete. Experience Gain. Affinity Gained with the Bheka Clan. 

  

   Map Unlocked: Southern Ridge Valley. Clans' Status: Weak. Defenses: Ruined.

  

   New Quest Available: Rebuild Clan Strength. Goals: Help Rebuild, Defend from Raids, Earn Warrior Status.]

  

  

  

    The moment passed, but the message stayed fixed in him. His role in this life had just begun, and what would he make of it? 

  

  

   "What do you want from me?" he asked. 

  

  

   Chief Bheka turned and gestured to the group. 

  

  

   "Bring the wounded together. Burn the dead. We leave before nightfall. The land here is poisoned." 

  

  

   Someone put a gourd of water in his hands. He drank. He turned back to Ndabuko. 

  

  

   "You will walk with us. You will earn your place, or you will die a nameless man." 

  

  

   Not welcome. A challenge. 

  

  

   Ndabuko understood. 

  

  

   "I will walk." 

  

  

   "Then we will see if the ancestors sent you, or you are another spirit in stolen skin." 

  

  

   The group began to move, steady, deliberate. No words. No wailing. Just the profound cadence of survival. The spears were collected, and the bodies were carried into one pile. The firewood was gathered. Grief was everywhere, thick as air, but nothing stopped their movement.

  

  

  

  

    Ndabuko contributed without needing to ask. He picked up broken shields, and he helped close wounds. His muscles responded as if in a trance. People observed him. Some looked on with suspicion, while others watched intently and silently. He dared not think he was part of this. Them yet. But they did not turn him away.

  

  

  

    As the sky grew dark and the fires surged, the dead were burned. There was no ceremony, no prayers. Only the sound of fire and the quiet sobs of those who have lost too much.

  

  

  

    The nightfall settled heavily into the valley. They moved through it as spectral beings. Through thick groves of trees, up and down uneven hills, they moved like shadows. Sipho moved without abandon behind him. Saying not a word. Until, finally the silence was pierced.

  

  

  

    "I didn't get to bury my sister."

  

  

    Ndabuko slowed.

  

  

  

    "What was her name?" 

  

  

  

    "Lindiwe."

  

  

  

  

    They walked a few more steps before Sipho spoke again.

  

  

   "She used to braid my hair. She hummed as the goats we herded grazed. She wasn't strong, but today she put up a fight. To one of them, she threw hot coals. They caught her anyway." 

  

  

   His voice faltered, just a bit. Then stiffened. "I hope they burned when she hit them." 

  

  

   Ndabuko had placed a hand on his shoulder and the boy did not shrug it off. 

  

  

   "She was brave," he said. "You carry her with you now. And one day they will burn her name; they who took it." 

  

  

   There was a gentle chime. 

  

  

   [Reputation Increased: Sipho's Loyalty +1. Emotional Bond Formed. Future Buffs Possible.]

  

  

   Not every victory had to be accompanied by blood.

  

  

   By midnight, they reached a ridge that overlooked the valley. Campfires had been lit sparsely, the little light hidden beneath branches still low. People had settled into silence. Bandages were fastened. Spears lay beside sleeping bodies. No one sang.

  

  

  

  

    Chief Bheka was standing alone, eyes planted on the dark horizon.

  

  

   Ndabuko joined him.

  

  

   "You meant it, didn't you," he said, "that you don't remember any of it."

  

  

   "I remember pain," Ndabuko said. "Fighting. Being hunted. This is new, but not too unfamiliar."

  

  

   Bheka turned toward him slowly, keeping his voice low. "We are still being hunted. My people shattered. Children with sticks. What would you do, Ndabuko, if you were in my position?"

  

  

   Ndabuko looked across the valley.

  

  

   "Train them. Sharpen what is left. Make warriors from what remains."

  

  

   Bheka did not smile but his jaw hardened.

  

  

   "Then start tomorrow. Show me what fire remains in you, what fire you forged in the kill. And if you have really shaped in war, let me see the edge of it."

  

  

   Another whisper echoed.

  

  

  

   [New Sub-Quest Activated: Prove Yourself. Train Bheka Youth. This Outcome Will determine Clan Rank and Trust.]

  

   Ndabuko did not speak again. He merely nodded.

  

   The test arrives with the dawn.

  

   And in this world of blood and bone, survival is not adequate.

  

   He would ascend, not as a visitor.

  

   He would rise as a weapon. And finally, a leader forged in war itself.