The days turned into weeks, and the camp's rhythm settled into something almost… normal.
Almost.
Every morning began with the whistle. Rows of recruits spilled into the open yard, half-awake and already regretting their life choices. Sergeant Dlamini would pace like a lion himself, barking orders sharp enough to cut through fog.
"Qi is your blood now!" he shouted one morning. "Treat it right, and it'll keep you alive. Lose focus, and you're meat!"
Most took him seriously. Others didn't. Until they collapsed mid-channeling exercise, twitching like broken circuits.
---
Sbu sat cross-legged in the dirt, eyes closed. His breathing was slow, his qi pulsing like a heartbeat through twelve open channels. The faint shimmer along his arms made him look like he was glowing from inside.
Beside him, a recruit groaned. "How the hell are you doing that, bro? I've been trying for an hour, and all I got was heartburn."
Sbu opened one eye, smirking slightly. "You're holding your breath. Let it flow."
The guy frowned. "Let it flow? You sound like a YouTube meditation ad."
Inside his head, Lungelo cackled.
"Maybe you should start one. 'Meditation with a side of monster apocalypse.' You'd go viral."
Sbu coughed to hide his laughter.
---
By the second week, he had fallen into a rhythm with three boys he knew from Mbabane: Mandla, the joker with too much confidence; Jobe, quiet and analytical; and Banele, a natural fighter who treated every spar like a championship match.
Together, they shared jokes during meal time and complained about the food—usually watery beans and something that claimed to be chicken.
It was during one of these meals that they met Shle.
She dropped her tray beside theirs, her presence pulling more eyes than she seemed to notice. Her head was shaved on one side, her expression unreadable. "You four talk too loud," she said flatly, sitting down.
Mandla blinked. "Eh, sorry? Didn't know there was a volume limit on beans."
She raised an eyebrow. "There is now."
The table went quiet for a second—then Sbu chuckled. "You'll fit right in."
Lungelo's voice echoed softly in his head.
"Ah, the boy discovers humor and women in the same week. Progress."
---
Training ramped up fast after that.
They spent hours running obstacle courses with weighted packs, learning to focus qi into strikes and maintain control under stress. By the third week, everyone could produce at least a faint glow on command.
Sergeant Dlamini inspected them personally one morning.
"You're all green," he said, pacing slowly, eyes scanning their group. "But you're better than the first batch we lost."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even the wind stopped for a second.
---
One night, a sudden alarm wailed through the camp.
Soldiers ran to the communications tent; radios crackled with rapid chatter. Sbu and his group watched from the barracks doorway, unease growing in their stomachs.
When Dlamini returned, his expression said everything before his words did.
"Mpumalanga has fallen."
The air seemed to leave the tent.
He continued, voice rough. "The beasts overran the border defenses after a month of fighting. Tanks, airstrikes—nothing worked. They just kept coming. South Africa's pulling back, regrouping. Eswatini's next."
Someone whispered, "So… what happens to us?"
Dlamini looked around the room. "What happens now," he said slowly, "is that you stop being recruits. In three days, you'll be soldiers."
---
That night, Sbu couldn't sleep.
He sat outside his tent, the cool wind carrying the faint smell of rain and fear. Lungelo appeared beside him, mane flickering like candlelight.
"You're afraid," the lion said.
Sbu didn't deny it. "Yeah. We're next, aren't we?"
The lion's golden eyes narrowed. "Fear is natural. But it's useless unless it drives you. You've walked the path before, boy. You died once trying to hold the power. Don't waste your second chance hiding from it."
Sbu nodded slowly, looking up at the cloudy night sky. The faint shimmer of descending qi still danced above the clouds, faint but unending.
"Then I'll use it right this time," he whispered.
Inside, he opened his interface.
---
[System Interface – Active]
Name: Sibusiso Mamba
Tier: 0 (99%)
Qi Channels: 12/12
Core Formation: Not achieved
Progress: 98.4% → 99.2%
Guardian: Lungelo – The Ancestral Lion
Status: Calm before the storm
---
Lungelo smirked faintly. "Sleep, cub. Tomorrow, the real hunt begins."
And somewhere beyond the border, under the dark skies of Mpumalanga, the beasts roared — answering the call of the war to come.