The Almighty General

The Chief’s expression darkened, nostrils flaring with fury as he turned sharply to his guards.

“Hold the girl down!” he thundered.

Rachael Colton, daughter of Lance Colton, barely had time to react before the guards lunged. They ripped her out of her mother’s arms and yanked her forward. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled.

“No!” Evelyn screamed, lunging forward, her voice raw with panic. But two guards grabbed her, restraining her thrashing frame like they were restraining a wild animal.

“She’s just a teenager!” Evelyn cried desperately.

John—Lance’s old and trembling father—pushed through the crowd, fighting his age and weakness. “Please, I beg you!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Punish me instead! She’s only a child!”

But the officials only watched, some with cold indifference, others with twisted amusement.

Alister stepped forward, a wicked glint in his eyes. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying the chaos.

A few hours earlier…

Evelyn had been preparing her goods for market, fingers dusted in cassava flour, when the village chief stormed arrogantly into the compound without knocking.

She froze.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she stepped forward cautiously. Her voice trembled. “Chief… what brings you here?”

The Chief sniffed, his nose wrinkling as if offended by the modest surroundings. “You know why I’m here,” he said, his tone thick with disdain. “Where is the levy for the town reconstruction? Believe me, I’ll demolish this house.”

Evelyn’s heart jumped. “You… you can’t. Lance isn’t back yet—”

The Chief scoffed. “Lance?”

He paused, then sneered.

“I’ve asked around. Your husband was branded a coward. A deserter. He’s been sentenced to death.”

The words struck like thunder. Evelyn shook her head wildly. “No… that can’t be. Lance isn’t a deserter. He… he promised he’d return.”

“Everyone in your family is a bunch of lowlife. You think that a dead man is coming to save you? You had better face reality.”

He stepped closer, his presence looming.

“Get the money. Or I’ll have this house reduced to ashes by sundown.”

Evelyn turned to go inside, legs trembling. Her mind spun in panic—how would Lance ever find them if the house was gone?

But she didn’t make it far.

A strong hand grabbed her waist from behind.

She gasped in shock.

“What—?” she twisted, and the Chief yanked her backward, slamming her against the wooden table beside her.

“What are you doing?!” she shrieked.

The Chief’s breath was hot on her skin. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. “Let me go!” she snarled, struggling, but he held tight.

“Come now,” he said. “Be smart. Serve me well and I’ll cover your levy. No more threats. No more house demolition.”

His fingers dug into her wrist, forcing her down.

But Evelyn’s fear cracked into rage.

Without warning, she sank her teeth deep into arm.

"Arrrghh!!!" The Chief let out a sharp cry in pain.

Evelyn did not even allow him to recover. 

SLAP!!!

The sharp crack of the slap echoed across the compound like a whip.

The Chief froze for a breath, his cheek stinging, his pride shattered.

His expression twisted.

With a snarl, he lunged again before Evelyn could escape. He grabbed her arm and shoved her roughly into the nearest wooden chair. The jolt shot through her spine as pain exploded in her back.

Then came the strike.

A vicious backhand.

Her head snapped sideways.

Before she could even gasp, another slap followed. Then another.

Evelyn cried out, struggling, kicking, clawing—but the Chief pinned her down with brute force, his face contorted in rage.

“You think you can defy me?!” he spat. “No one disrespects me!”

She tasted blood as her lips was split, her vision blurring. Her limbs weakened… but her spirit burned.

And then—

A thud.

Heavy. Solid. From the doorway.

Everyone turned.

It was John.

The old man had emerged, his frail body leaning on a gnarled walking stick—but his eyes blazed like fire.

“You bastard!” he roared, and with all the strength he had left, he swung the stick.

CRACK!

The stick slammed across the Chief’s back.

The man stumbled forward, nearly falling.

He turned, livid, stunned.

“You old fool!” he howled, eyes wide with fury.

With one brutal shove, he knocked John to the ground. The walking stick clattered away. John hit the dirt hard, coughing violently, his chest heaving.

“Papa!” Evelyn screamed, wrenching herself from the table, her voice hoarse with terror.

But the Chief was on her again, grabbing her wrist with bruising force.

“Lance will not spare you!” she spat through clenched teeth, her body trembling. “He’ll kill you for this!”