Chapter 15: The Challenge 2

The atmosphere is electric as Káòṣù steps forward, ready to face twenty soldiers. The remaining guards form a circle, giving him space.

Káòṣù: (looking at the lady) my lady, am I fighting all of them at once?

Lady Adéọlá: (shaking her head while smiling) you really want to prove your name, it will be too crowded. You will fight five at a time to make it more fun. Are you fine with that? Remember, they will not hold back, so you must not hold back either. Now, pick a weapon.

Káòṣù surveys the weapons laid out before him: an axe, a spear, and a stick. He hesitates, eyes lingering on the sword, but then he picks up the stick, breaking it into two. He smirks at the five soldiers before him. They are shocked by his choice.

Guard 1: (scoffing) it seems you really want to die.

Káòṣù: (bowing sarcastically) can you do the honours?

The five soldiers encircled Káòṣù, their weapons gleaming in the harsh sunlight. Spears and swords—tools of war—ready to attack. But Káòṣù was no ordinary adversary; he is ready to prove to them why they call him the One Man Army:

As the first soldier lunged with his spear, Káòṣù moved with the swiftness of a cheetah. He sidestepped effortlessly, the spearhead grazing his skin. His sticks—carved from the sacred irókò tree—became extensions of his will. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected the second soldier's sword, the blade singing through the air.

The third soldier attacked, spear thrusting forward. Káòṣù weaved effortlessly, a dance of evasion. His body flowed—ducking, spinning—as if the gods themselves guided his steps. The fourth soldier swung a heavy sword, but Káòṣù slipped past, fingertips brushing the blade. The fifth, desperate, aimed a spear at his heart, but Káòṣù twisted away, the weapon missing by a hair's breadth.

Frustration etched the soldiers' faces. They were skilled fighters, yet Káòṣù defied their every move. His grace mocked their brute strength. They had never faced someone like him—a living legend, whispered about in hushed tones.

And then, in a blur of motion, Káòṣù struck back. His fist found the first soldier's jaw, snapping it sideways. The second received a knee to the gut, collapsing. The third stumbled, disarmed. Káòṣù's elbow met the fourth soldier's temple, and he crumpled like a discarded cloak. The fifth, wide-eyed, dropped his spear, defeated.

The five soldiers fall, defeated, as the crowd watches in stunned silence. Even lady Adéọlá cannot hide her surprise, though a smile creeps onto her lips.

Lady Adéọlá: (smiling) Next!

Káòṣù: (dropping his sticks) Do not waste my time. Bring ten.

The lady nods, and ten soldiers step forward, attacking in unison. Káòṣù does not hesitate. instead, he flowed like water, a force of nature unleashed.

. He moves with blinding speed, weaving through their strikes. His fists and feet are a blur as he counters each attack

Káòṣù's movements are a symphony of violence, every strike precise and powerful. Soldiers fall one by one, their bodies hitting the ground in rapid succession.

His right fist blurred as it met the first soldier's jaw. Bone cracked, and the man crumpled, his consciousness fleeing like a startled bird. The second soldier lunged, but Káòṣù sidestepped, his left elbow smashing into the man's sternum. The air whooshed out of him, and he staggered back, gasping.

The third soldier charged, sword raised. Káòṣù leaped, defying gravity, and his heel collided with the soldier's chest. The impact sent the man sprawling, his weapon clattering to the ground. Káòṣù landed lightly, his eyes scanning for the next adversary.

Two soldiers attacked simultaneously—one from each side. Káòṣù twisted, his fingers like vipers. He seized their wrists, redirecting their blades away from his vital points. With a fluid motion, he smashed their heads together, and they crumpled, unconscious.

The fifth soldier, a hulking brute, swung a massive club. Káòṣù ducked, swept his leg in a low arc, and the brute's legs buckled. He crashed to the ground, dazed. Káòṣù's foot followed up, connecting with the man's jaw, and stars exploded in the soldier's vision.

The sixth soldier—a wiry, agile opponent—darted in, thrusting a dagger. Káòṣù spun, evading the blade, and his palm struck the soldier's solar plexus. The man doubled over, gasping, and Káòṣù's knee met his face. Bones snapped, and he crumpled like a discarded rag.

The seventh soldier wielded twin short swords. Káòṣù parried, his forearms absorbing the impact. Their eyes locked, and Káòṣù grinned. He stepped inside the soldier's guard, driving his knee into the man's gut. The swords clattered to the ground, and the soldier wheezed.

The eighth soldier hesitated, fear etching his features. Káòṣù lunged, fingers like venomous fangs. He struck pressure points along the man's arm, rendering it useless. The soldier dropped his sword, whimpering. Káòṣù whispered, "Rest now," and moved on.

The ninth soldier fought with desperation, slashing wildly. Káòṣù flowed around the blade, his movements a blur. He disarmed the soldier, then spun, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the man sprawling. Blood stained the earth.

The tenth soldier stood resolute. His sword gleamed, and Káòṣù met his gaze. They circled, each assessing the other. Then, with a primal roar, they clashed. Steel rang against steel, sparks dancing in the air. Káòṣù's knuckles bled, but that was not his blood so he pressed on. He feinted left, then spun right, disarming the captain. The man fell to his knees, defeated.

Káòṣù stood amidst the fallen, his breath ragged. His body bore no scars, but his spirit had weathered the storm. "it has been long I have done this" he said to himself. Has he is looking at the soldiers restless on the ground he remembers how the warrior princess defeated ten British soldiers without breaking a sweat although they were not as strong has these guards he is facing now but he could still remember that scene; she was cutting through them like tearing a wool, he s not in her level yet. "I will reach their level no matter how hard I try" he says to himself with full confidence He glanced at the remaining five soldiers, their resolve crumbling. "Who's next?" he taunted, adrenaline still moving through his veins. They hesitated, fear etched in their eyes.

Lady Adéọlá watched Káòṣù with pride, impressed by his skill. She thought, "So this is what the grand general sees in him The memory of her conversation with General Ọkwụlụọcha resurfaced—a strategic move to bolster the guards' morale and defence. The palace guards, their ranks depleted due to constant battles, faced a dilemma. Crime had diminished within the kingdom, but their vigilance waned. The best warriors were always on the battlefield, leaving the palace vulnerable. The general's plan was clear: a staged fight, not just for Káòṣù's honour, but to invigorate the guards.

Summoning the available guards and the commander, the lady watched as fear flickered in their eyes.

As Káòṣù prepared to face the remaining soldiers, the commander stepped forward—a man in gleaming white Armor. The lady knew the stakes were high. This fight wasn't just for Káòṣù; it was a rallying cry for the guards. The grand general's plan was working—the fear in their eyes, the commander's fury—all part of the intricate dance of the grand general Ọkwụlụọcha.

Káòṣù is ready to attack when the commander of the guards, a man in white, steps forward.

Commander: (yells) Isa haka!

[He turns to the lady.]

Commander: I get your point my lady. Now tell the general I understand his message. Can I leave?

Lady Adéọlá: (challenging sarcastically) What do you mean by that? I just invited you to watch this show with me and the show is not finished yet, he has not defeated the remaining five. Don't you have faith in the guards anymore?

Commander: (nodding) Very well. Guards, stand down.

Listening to the commander words they went back to their positions instantly leaving Káòṣù as they remove the soldiers lying on the ground helplessly this increased Káòṣù annoyance

Káòṣù: (annoyed) Why are you standing down? Fight me!

Lady: They stood down because you have a new opponent. (Stretching her hand to the commander)

The commander approaches, his presence commanding respect. The guards hit their weapons against the ground rhythmically. Káòṣù protests.

Káòṣù: This is not the deal. You are not a guard.

Commander: I am the commander of these guards, so technically, I am still a guard.

Lady: (concerned) Commander, are you sure you want to do this?

Commander: Don't you believe in us anymore?

Lady: (conceding) Very well then, do as you please.

Káòṣù's breaths came in ragged bursts as he closed the distance. The commander stood unwavering, eyes narrowed, robes billowing like a dark storm. Káòṣù's gaze locked onto the discarded sword—a glimmering lifeline.

With a primal roar, he dropped to his knees, sliding across the ground. His fingers closed around the hilt, and the blade came alive in his grip. As Káòṣù's knee slide propels him toward the commander, the commander's eyes narrows like a predator assessing its prey. In that split second, he absorbed Káòṣù's intent, the raw determination etched on his face. The commander shifts his weight, a subtle adjustment, his left foot angled slightly inward, ready to pivot. He knew Káòṣù's trajectory as he takes a step back, evading the initial strike and the blade missed by a hair's breadth. Káòṣù raise his sword but the commander's response was fluid—a dance of evasion and offense. He weaved like a silk thread caught in a breeze. Káòṣù aims for the commander's midsection, hoping to catch him off guard again. But the commander sidesteps his movements eerily graceful.

As the commander evades, Káòṣù notes the subtle shift in weight—the commander favours his left leg. Next time, Káòṣù would feint left and strike right. Káòṣù lungs low, aiming for the commander's legs. The blade slices through the air, seeking tendons and joints. But the commander leaps, defying gravity, and Káòṣù's blade meet empty space. Káòṣù is annoyed and is full of surprise as he observes the commander's agility. He adjusts, aiming higher—the commander's torso. If he couldn't cut the serpent's tail, he'd strike its heart.

Káòṣù instantly attacks, then reverses, feigning retreat. The commander follows, closing in. But Káòṣù spun, blade flashing. The commander blocks, but Káòṣù's foot swept low, unbalancing him. Now he has a chance to attack the commander. In that pivotal moment, as Káòṣù's blade descends toward the commander's chest, the world seems to slow. But the commander defies gravity—a phantom mid-air as his body twists, Káòṣù's sword stabbed the ground, a futile echo.

Káòṣù's surprise was palpable—a heartbeat too late. The commander seizes the opportunity, his grip unyielding. With a fluid motion, grabbing Káòṣù from behind, hoisting him into the air and then, using his own body weight to drive Káòṣù's spine into the unforgiving earth which made Káòṣù unconscious.

Káòṣù lies defeated, the guards cheering, but the commander silences them.

Commander of guards (angrily): "Isa haka"!! You all prove to me that you are getting weaker day by day. You are the weakest among the forces in this territory. You are meant to be the great protectors of this castle, but twenty of you could not defeat one man. You all are a disgrace.

Káòṣù is defeated and unconscious as the guards carries his body away. He has failed to win the bet and it is time for him to pay his consequences when he awakes.