The moon was high in the sky when Njuwa finally collapsed onto the dirt floor of his sleeping quarters. His body ached beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Every muscle burned, every joint felt swollen, and even the simple act of breathing sent sharp pain through his ribs.
Jengo groaned beside him. "I swear, if I survive this training, I'll become the strongest warrior in the land. Or at least the most tired one."
Njuwa didn't reply. He was too exhausted to waste words. His mind drifted, recalling the events of the day. The weighted training had nearly broken him. It wasn't just the physical strain—Nyoka had pushed them relentlessly, making them run, jump, and even fight while carrying the crushing burden of the iron bracelets.
At first, every movement had felt impossible. His body had rebelled against the unnatural weight, his balance thrown off, his speed reduced to a sluggish crawl. But as the hours passed, he had started to adjust. His steps became more stable, his body adapted to the constant resistance.
Nyoka had been right. The body learned through suffering.
Dreams of the Past
As exhaustion pulled him into sleep, Njuwa's mind wandered into a dream.
He was back in his village. The warm sun bathed the earth in gold, and the laughter of children filled the air. His mother stood by the river, washing clothes, while his father sharpened a hunting spear.
For a moment, everything felt real. The sounds, the scents, the feeling of home.
Then, the screams came.
The sky darkened, and the ground trembled as raiders stormed into the village. Fire engulfed the huts, turning the peaceful haven into a nightmare. The laughter of children was replaced by wails of terror.
Njuwa turned to run, but his feet wouldn't move. His mother called his name, but her voice was distant, fading into the chaos. His father charged at the invaders, only to be cut down in a single stroke.
Njuwa wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
Then, he saw them—the chains. Shackles clamping around his wrists and ankles, dragging him away from everything he had ever known.
The scene shifted.
Now, he stood in the Baron's courtyard, a slave among many. The chains remained, but they felt heavier. The eyes of the noblemen looked down on him like he was less than human.
Then, the dream changed again.
He was older. Stronger. The chains were gone, replaced by something else—a deep fire in his chest. He stood on a battlefield, a sword in hand, facing an enemy whose face he could not see.
And then—darkness.
Njuwa woke with a sharp gasp, sweat dripping down his forehead. His heart pounded against his ribs, the echoes of his dream lingering in his mind.
Morning Pain and New Lessons
The first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in the wooden walls. Jengo stirred beside him, letting out a painful groan as he tried to sit up.
"I think my soul left my body," he muttered.
Njuwa forced himself upright, his muscles protesting every movement. The iron bracelets still clamped around his wrists and ankles reminded him that the suffering was far from over.
Nyoka entered the room, her usual smirk in place. "Good morning, weaklings."
Jengo glared at her. "You have the heart of a demon."
"Thank you," she replied. "Now get up. Today, we fight."
Jengo's eyes widened. "Fight? As in, with weapons?"
Nyoka shrugged. "With fists first. If you survive, we'll consider weapons."
Njuwa stood, his exhaustion fading as anticipation took over.
The training yard was already bustling with activity. Other warriors sparred in pairs, their strikes sharp and precise. The air was thick with the sounds of combat.
Nyoka led them to an open space. "The goal is simple. Knock your opponent down."
Jengo looked at Njuwa with a frown. "We're fighting each other?"
Nyoka smirked. "Yes. And don't hold back."
Jengo groaned. "Great. Now I get to be beaten up by my friend."
Njuwa rolled his shoulders, testing the weight of the iron bracelets. Even though his body was sore, he felt stronger than before.
Nyoka clapped her hands. "Begin."
The First Clash
Jengo moved first, throwing a hesitant punch. Njuwa sidestepped, the motion feeling slower than it should have due to the weights.
Jengo tried again, this time with more force. Njuwa blocked, his arms shaking under the impact. Despite his exhaustion, he could feel his body adjusting, reacting faster than before.
Njuwa countered with a quick jab, but Jengo ducked.
They exchanged blows, neither able to land a solid hit.
Nyoka watched silently, her sharp eyes analyzing their movements.
Then, she moved.
Faster than either of them could react, she struck Jengo in the stomach with a quick palm strike, sending him stumbling back. Before Njuwa could react, she was on him, sweeping his legs out from under him.
He hit the ground hard, the impact rattling his bones.
"Too slow," she said. "Again."
They got up.
And they fought again.
And again.
And again.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, Njuwa had lost count of how many times he had been thrown down. His body ached, but something inside him refused to break.
Breaking the Limit
Nyoka finally called for a stop.
Jengo collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. "Are… we… done?"
Nyoka tilted her head. "For today."
Jengo groaned. "I hate you."
She chuckled. "Good."
Njuwa, despite his exhaustion, remained standing. He could feel it—the change. His body was adapting. The pain no longer felt unbearable. It was becoming fuel.
Nyoka nodded in approval. "You're learning."
She turned to leave, but paused. "Tomorrow, we use weapons."
Jengo let out a weak laugh. "I'm going to die."
Njuwa, however, clenched his fists.
He was ready.