Battleground

Chapter 0.1 A

IN THE BEGINNING…,

Samfya, a serene haven remains my home to this day. The crisp air, soft sand, and breathtaking views offered a soulful welcome unlike any other. I can still hear the waves lapping against the riverbanks and smell the fresh breeze of the river bay—glorious every day. Despite my fear of drowning, I fished daily and excelled at it, always pushing forward when it mattered most.

Once, I was a simple boy named Kai. Now, I’m known as 1-A, a soldier in a battalion of low-ranking warriors called the Facilitators. We’ve cast aside our names, indifferent to their past significance. We hail from the fictional nation of Z-Rhodesia, sworn to defend its borders at all costs.

After years of prosperity, the tribal leaders of Z-Rhodesia grew greedy for power—what to claim, what to keep, and what to erase. Over time, they turned on each other, consuming rival factions. Two dominant groups, the Bemba and the Tonga, rose above the rest. The nation darkened, and I no longer recognized my home, my people, or the virtues of a once-cherished faith called Christianity. That blissful paradise faded as traditional beliefs, Christian values, and new ideologies clashed, pushing my utopia to collapse.

The Bemba and Tonga leaders stood on opposing sides. The Tonga sought to restore the old ways, hoping to revive the past, while the Bemba envisioned a new utopia, believing peace lay in adaptation and progress.

At year’s end, my parents let my brothers and me fish for the New Year’s meal. It was the best day of my life. As Mom prepared the feast and the sun set, we awaited the celebration. Suddenly, the sounds of waves, rustling trees, and wildlife were swallowed by an eerie silence. A whistling light approached from the western sky, growing brighter. My father instinctively shielded me with his body. As destruction loomed, he whispered, “Pride.” Then a blinding light consumed everything. It felt like waking from a dream, my eyes struggling to adjust—but they never would.

I wandered after burying the remains of my family. How I survived, I don’t know. The Bemba found me, treated my wounds, and enlisted me as a Facilitator to serve their cause.

                  "© 2025 Chief Jack. All rights             reserved."

Battleground

Chapter 0.1 A

IN THE BEGINNING…,

Samfya, a serene haven remains my home to this day. The crisp air, soft sand, and breathtaking views offered a soulful welcome unlike any other. I can still hear the waves lapping against the riverbanks and smell the fresh breeze of the river bay—glorious every day. Despite my fear of drowning, I fished daily and excelled at it, always pushing forward when it mattered most.

Once, I was a simple boy named Kai. Now, I’m known as 1-A, a soldier in a battalion of low-ranking warriors called the Facilitators. We’ve cast aside our names, indifferent to their past significance. We hail from the fictional nation of Z-Rhodesia, sworn to defend its borders at all costs.

After years of prosperity, the tribal leaders of Z-Rhodesia grew greedy for power—what to claim, what to keep, and what to erase. Over time, they turned on each other, consuming rival factions. Two dominant groups, the Bemba and the Tonga, rose above the rest. The nation darkened, and I no longer recognized my home, my people, or the virtues of a once-cherished faith called Christianity. That blissful paradise faded as traditional beliefs, Christian values, and new ideologies clashed, pushing my utopia to collapse.

The Bemba and Tonga leaders stood on opposing sides. The Tonga sought to restore the old ways, hoping to revive the past, while the Bemba envisioned a new utopia, believing peace lay in adaptation and progress.

At year’s end, my parents let my brothers and me fish for the New Year’s meal. It was the best day of my life. As Mom prepared the feast and the sun set, we awaited the celebration. Suddenly, the sounds of waves, rustling trees, and wildlife were swallowed by an eerie silence. A whistling light approached from the western sky, growing brighter. My father instinctively shielded me with his body. As destruction loomed, he whispered, “Pride.” Then a blinding light consumed everything. It felt like waking from a dream, my eyes struggling to adjust—but they never would.

I wandered after burying the remains of my family. How I survived, I don’t know. The Bemba found me, treated my wounds, and enlisted me as a Facilitator to serve their cause.

                  "© 2025 Chief Jack. All rights             reserved."

Chapter one Ep 2

“They’ll rue the day they took everything from me!” Kai growled, his voice low and fierce. “I’ll tear this empire apart and restore peace to the families dragged into its crushing tide. I don’t care which empire started this accursed war, but it ends with me.”

Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, Kai lay in his canopy bed, restless, waiting for something—anything. In the distance, the rhythmic stomp of soldiers’ boots echoed through the Black River Outpost, mingled with the sharp roll calls of new recruits.

“It’s six o’clock sharp,” Kai thought, eyes fixed on the darkening sky. “The sun’s just set on this glorified depository for the North’s castoffs. Today’s the day I break in.”

After enlisting, Kai had been posted here—a campground turned asylum for war criminals, a supposed safe haven to preserve the empire’s sordid history. The message was clear: We don’t trust an outsider like you on the battlefield.

During training, he’d forged bonds with a few comrades he could trust: Chichi, Lawu, and Paulo. Paulo, by chance, hailed from the same beachside settlement where Kai grew up and had known Kai’s father. Lawu and Paulo were neighbors in a refugee camp, both wanting nothing to do with this war—yet the war had everything to do with them. Their families had been scattered across the empire, impossible to trace with the intel and resources at their disposal. As for Chichi, his father hadn’t survived that day, and his surviving mother and sister had been taken as playthings for a high-ranking imperial soldier. The soldier’s “reward,” they called it. For what? No one knew. None of the survivors could recall what happened that day or how to undo it.

note:revengefilledprotagonist AKA Kai

green lifeless eyes

part African part

unknown

Kai’s mission was different. He sought ancient grimoires rumored to hold powerful incantations. If he could master them, he might restore his fractured memories and gain the strength to fight back.

“Pssst, Kai… Kaiiiii!” a voice whispered through a crack in the stone wall of his small, earth-molded room, identical to every other in Black River.

“Sand lays ashore,” Kai murmured, tapping a rhythm against the wall.

“Turtles run to the banks,” came the reply, tapped in sync.

“I see you’re ready,” Kai whispered. “I’ll meet you where the sun kisses her last.”

The voice tapped once in response.

Black River was built over hills, its prison cells burrowed deep into the earth, housing the North’s worst criminals—from petty thieves to the vilest warlords. Kai and his newfound teammates sought information, and thanks to some carefully played cards, they’d been sent to the perfect place at the perfect time.

Crouching, Kai closed his eyes as a dark, ape-like silhouette with horns appeared on the other side of the door. A shadow seeped into the room, its form barely visible. The figure chanted, “Earth Brother, now’s the time. To you, God of the Worlds, reveal your secrets. I honor thee.”

As the incantation echoed, the floor beneath Kai softened into clay-like dough, swallowing him slowly. He sank, disappearing from his guard dormitory, his mind racing: I’ll uncover everything about this empire. Then I’ll gain enough power to start my inquisition and raze the North to the ground.

In the next room, the shadowy figure ceased his shamanic incantations after securing Kai’s escape. “You weak little boy,” he muttered. “You rely on me too much. It’s a pity.”

At the ranch stables, Kai emerged, realizing his reluctance to harness his own spiritual life force left him dependent on others.

“In my country,” Kai reflected, “various forces control the stride of events. Our lives are never our own. The strongest lead, while the rest—those without power—slave away in their shadows. Three powers decide your fate: those born with supernatural gifts, those who draw strength from gods and spirits, and those who wield nothing but will.”

Perched on a ceiling beam, Lawu posed as a creature of the night, muttering to himself. Below him stood two Northmen guards. “Second-regime battle guards,” he growled, unsheathing his staff. “They’ve seen the war front. They’ve spilled blood. That’s all the call to justice I need.”