A wide, stately office in Kharona's capital housed Chubai Gomaki, Minister of Defense, seated at a grand mahogany desk positioned at the room's far end. A few chairs, neatly arranged in rows, on the desk, where multiple files lay scattered. Gomaki skimmed through them, his stern face etched with concentration, his fingers moving with deliberate care.
Sunso, a composed woman in her thirties and the Minister's personal assistant, walked into the office through the door, her heels clicking sharply as she approached his desk, a paper file clutched firmly in her hand.
"Minister Gomaki," she said, holding a paper file in her hand.
"The Chief of staff sent a message and a couple of report files are included in the message."
Gomaki looked at Sunso with a face of displeasure, his brow furrowing as he stretched out his hand to receive the file folder. Sunso handed it over to him. After looking at some information in the files, he dropped the file on the desk without saying a word, his focus returning to the previous file he was skimming through, his expression tightening with suppressed frustration.
"According to the Chief of Staff the message isn't intended to be overlooked because the president ordered him to craft the files and message," Sunso said.
Gomaki got his gaze down on the file and back to Sunso with a serious tone, his voice heavy with exasperation.
"I have received multiple files like this with almost the same contents which I am tired of. Controlling the whole defense system in the Kharona Republic is not what an ordinary man is capable of doing. A lot of crime reports we've received and did the best possible to apprehend the culprits and most are executed."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Getting these same messages continuously that the defense systems are not doing well enough is the least I expected from the President."
Sunso maintained her peace and asked with loyalty, her posture unwavering.
"Minister, I'm suggesting we should send a message to the president seeking for the banning of clans from Kharona."
Gomaki said with an expression of contempt, his lips curling as he leaned his back more on his chair in a relaxed way, though his voice remained calm.
"What a ridiculous thing to say."
He continued, his voice increasing slightly.
"You know what Clans are, I wouldn't say a grown adult does not know."
His tone sharpened further.
"You can't distinguish traditional clans from the violent, chaotic clans."
"I know clans are indigenous people with various beliefs and practices but the violent ones are now more than the ones we used to have. Banning them all would not affect our country," Sunso replied, her voice steady.
"You cannot unmake what time has long accepted. If clans have lived for centuries, wisdom is not in ending them but in understanding them," Gomaki said calmly, his words carrying quiet conviction.
A knock was heard at the door, its sharp sound cutting through the tense air. Sunso walked up to the door and opened it. Five uniformed armed soldiers walked in and headed towards the Minister's desk, their boots echoing as they moved. On getting there, they all saluted him simultaneously, their movements precise and disciplined.
"Here," one of the army said, handing him a paper document.
"This is from the Military General. It contains an appeal of budget requests as all other requests sent in the past have been ignored or not taken to the president himself."
Gomaki stared at them for a few seconds without saying a word, his eyes scanning their faces, then leaned his back on his chair, crossing both hands, his expression stern and unyielding.
The sun was calm on a less busy road close to the house of the Duro family, its gentle rays casting long shadows. Afryea Opoku, a lady in her mid-thirties, dressed neat and modest in a simple cotton dress, walked by the road, her steps light despite the distance she had covered.
She sighed.
"The sun is being kind today."
She let out a mild, beautiful smile while still walking, her face softening with relief.
"I would have been soaked by heat for walking this long at this hour."
She walked, reaching the Duro house and then entered the compound, its familiar walls a quiet haven. Getting to the door, she was about to knock, but the door suddenly opened, leaving her hand hanging in the air. Jina was at the doorway, giving a happy smile and looking up to her, his young eyes bright with mischief.
"I think I have super powers to know you are arriving," he said, giggling.
Afryea, putting on an expression of disbelief, shifted her gaze from Jina to the window at the left side of the house and then back at Jina with a smile.
"You watched me coming from the window, kid."
Jina laughed and shifted to the right side of the door, creating space for her to come in, his grin wide and playful.
"The only wife we have in the family. You may have your way."
"You are a child… and you always sound like an adult," Afryea said, running her hand lovingly over his hair, her touch gentle and warm.
She stared into the parlor from the doorway with an eager expression, her eyes searching for a familiar figure.
"Damak isn't at home?"
"No, your husband left with Okai few minutes ago," Jina responded firmly, his small frame straight with confidence.
"Where did they go," Afryea said, looking inquisitive, her brow furrowing slightly.
"They told me they will be at Combat Proving Centre," Jina responded, his voice clear.
Afryea got disappointed but still walked into the house and sat in the sitting room, settling onto a worn but comfortable chair, her hands folded in her lap.
"I hope they don't spend much time."
In a stark Kharona training hall, rough concrete walls and steel beams loomed over a cold, unyielding floor. The air was thick with the sharp, metallic scent of polished blades, heavy with the tension of combat. Okai, gasping for breath, dodged Damak's swift punches aimed at his face, neck, and stomach. Each strike rang with precision, testing Okai's agility.
Damak landed a heavy blow to Okai's rib. The force sent Okai crashing onto the concrete, pain searing through his back as he grunted loudly. He rose, jaw clenched with resolve. Okai lunged at Damak, leaping and spinning mid-air to aim a powerful kick at his chest, letting out a sharp shout.
Damak stood steady, eyes tracking the kick. He ducked, seized Okai's leg, and slammed him to the ground with a thud. Okai groaned, pain surging through his side as he struggled to breathe.
"You should not strike with aggression alone, but with cunning, reading every move of your opponent," Damak instructed. He walked to a corner where racks of blades gleamed faintly.
Okai sat up, wiping sweat from his brow. He stood, steadying himself despite the pain.
"I will boldly say I am much stronger and skilled than most violent clan members."
He approached Damak with a bold grin.
"Let's switch to weapon combat, shall we?"
"I have noticed you're skilled with weapons, but you must forget about using the loomil blade if that's your plan," Damak said firmly. Okai frowned but held his tongue. He moved to the weapon racks with purpose.
Okai grabbed two swords and tossed one to Damak. He caught the sword mid-air, his face twisting in scorn.
"I'm better with knives. The loomil knife is my favorite weapon."
Damak stayed silent, his gaze wary.
"I don't understand why you and the government fear a blade just for its strange design," Okai said. He dropped the sword with a loud clang.
"I will spend my time practicing with the right weapon, not this," he added sharply.
Damak's face tightened, masking unease. Okai stepped to his satchel and drew the loomil blade, its surface etched with eerie, swirling patterns. He moved to a carved wooden warrior clutching two swords. With a swift slash, the loomil blade sliced through both, their halves crashing to the floor.
Okai's eyes widened in awe.
"What sort of material is this blade from?"
Damak knelt, picking up the severed fragments. He studied their smooth edges closely. Okai inspected his loomil blade for scratches, finding none. Damak rose, drew his own sword, and faced Okai, poised for combat.
"Come on, show me your best knife skills," Damak ordered, his stance firm.
Okai charged with a fierce yell, the loomil blade flashing in a display of mastery. He feinted left, then struck right toward Damak's shoulder, grunting with effort. Damak parried, the clash of metal echoing sharply. Okai twisted his wrist, sweeping the blade low at Damak's legs, his breath heavy with focus.
Damak leapt back, his sword slashing to block with a loud clang. He countered with a swift thrust, his own shout ringing out, forcing Okai to dodge. Okai rolled to the side, rising with a rapid jab, his eyes blazing with determination. Damak deflected, his face tight with strain, and swung a wide arc that Okai ducked under, gasping sharply.
The fight intensified, both warriors moving as equals. Okai's blade danced with precision, chaining thrusts and sweeps, his grunts punctuating each strike. Damak matched him, his sword flashing in tight, controlled arcs, his heavy breathing betraying his effort. Okai faked a high slash, then aimed low, forcing Damak to pivot, his own growl echoing.
Damak pressed forward, his sword striking with force. Okai parried, the impact jarring his arm, but he countered with a spinning slash, shouting with exertion. Both fighters wove through the hall, blades clashing in a symphony of metal, their movements fluid and fierce. Okai's skill shone, but Damak's experience held strong, neither giving ground easily.
Okai shifted tactics, nearly catching Damak off-guard with a quick thrust, his yell sharp. Damak sidestepped, his blade meeting Okai's in a shower of sparks, his gasp loud. Okai pressed on, his blade a blur, but Damak countered with equal ferocity. With one powerful swing, Okai shattered Damak's sword, the broken blade clattering to the floor.
Damak stared at the jagged hilt, then dropped it, panting heavily.
"This loomil blade's sharpness is reason enough for the government to ban its use by anyone, civilian or defense agent."
"They locked up the first one your union found because it was called the blade of the beast," Okai said skeptically, catching his breath.
"The government doesn't call it a beast blade. It's known as a cursed weapon and should not be used by anyone," Damak corrected.
"Cursed?" Okai asked, his voice uneasy.
"Yes. Only in father's history book is it called the loomil blade, meaning Beast's blade," Damak said, taking the blade. He studied its unsettling patterns.
"Which should I believe… the government's story or the book's?" Okai asked, confused.
Damak stayed silent, lost in the blade's eerie craftsmanship. Okai, still curious, pressed further.
"Dark curses or spells don't exist and have never existed according to law and the government."
"The president needs to explain clearly who or what cursed this incredible weapon," he added.
Damak handed the blade back. Okai slid it into its scabbard.
"It's been over a week since I've had this blade," Okai said.
"You better not use it in public," Damak warned sternly.
"Your moves today prove how advanced your combat skills are," Damak added, his tone softening.
"I cut back on fighting clans because I realized I couldn't do it alone. When I started training you, you lacked resistance and agility, which made you weak," Damak said.
"Seriously, the crimes of those violent clan members are rising daily. We're counting on the armies and police to stop them," Okai said awkwardly, staring at the floor.
Damak, disappointed, met his eyes.
"For two years, this is what you've trained for."
"To be a hero?" Okai asked sharply, tilting his head. He flashed a mischievous smile, brushing it away with his fingers.
"With your abilities, you either stand against evil or support it," Damak said calmly.
"Me and you? Against all the clans?" Okai snorted.
"That cannot be done, and even if it could…" Okai paused.
"Kharona would be so boring without them."
Damak's jaw tightened with annoyance.
"At your age, if you don't mature now, you'll remain a child forever."
Okai stepped back, unfazed.
"I wonder why you go alone, killing clan members."
He grew serious.
"You're just an agent of the Investigation Unit. The government didn't assign you to fight clans, yet even the armies, who have that role, aren't as bold as you in facing them alone."
Damak softened, resting a hand on Okai's shoulder.
"Our father and his brother were anti-crime agents who never saw evil without stopping it."
"Oh, spare me that," Okai retorted, brushing Damak's hand away.
"I hope you grow up soon," Damak said quietly.
"We've trained long enough today. Get your bag, let's go," he added.
Okai walked to his satchel and stowed the loomil blade. He slung it over his shoulder and joined Damak. They left the hall.
Outside the training hall, Damak strode to his parked car. He slid into the driver's seat with a creak of the door. Okai settled into the passenger seat, his satchel heavy with the loomil blade. Damak turned the key, the engine sputtering with a weak, groaning hum before roaring to life on the third try.
They drove away from the combat grounds, the car rattling along the dusty road. Halfway home, a sleek black vehicle swerved in front of them, blocking their path. Okai leapt out, his hand instinctively drawing the loomil blade with a sharp rasp.
Three armed policemen emerged from the car, their firearms trained on Okai.
"Drop your weapon on the ground and step back!" Sergeant Wurdu commanded, his voice sharp.
Damak stepped out, his posture calm but firm.
"I am Agent Duro, assistant director of the K.I.U., and this is my younger brother," he said, resting a hand on Okai's shoulder.
"I said put that weapon down!" Sergeant Wurdu barked, advancing with his gun still aimed.
Okai slowly knelt, placing the loomil blade on the ground with a soft clink. He stood, whispering to Damak,
"Who are these policemen? Why don't they recognize you?"
"Step back from the weapon and raise your hands!" the sergeant ordered. The three officers closed in, their boots crunching on the gravel.
"Agent Damak Duro, this is no insult, but a lawful arrest of your brother," Sergeant Wurdu said sternly.
"Arrest for what offense?" Damak demanded, his voice sharp with disbelief.
"For the murder of Koti Ibena," the sergeant replied. Both brothers froze, shock etched on their faces. Wurdu nodded to the officer on his left, who picked up the loomil blade and snapped handcuffs on Okai's wrists.
Damak stared, stunned.
"Koti is dead? Okai, you killed him?"
"I'm as confused as you are, brother," Okai said, his voice trembling as the officers led him to their car.
"I demand a clear explanation of what happened," Damak said, his tone commanding.
Sergeant Wurdu pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Damak.
"Here's the report," he said. "Koti died today in the hospital. A week ago, Okai severed Koti's left hand at the wrist. He was rushed for treatment, but the wound carried an unknown poison that spread through his body, defying all treatment. We believe it came from that cursed blade."
Silence gripped the air. Damak's gaze shifted from the report to the sergeant, then to Okai, his heart heavy with dread.