Scene 1: Darius – The Laughing TyrantThe grand hall was suffocating with tension. Golden chandeliers flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the polished floors. The nobles, draped in silk and gold, stood in rigid silence, their faces unreadable masks. At the center of it all, sprawled on his extravagant throne, was King Darius—a man who ruled with both laughter and terror.At the foot of the throne, Shakur knelt, his armor still dusted with the blood of his latest victims. A hush fell over the room as Darius leaned forward, his lips twitching into a smirk.“Well?” Darius said lazily, swirling a goblet of wine in his hand. “Tell me, how did they die?”Shakur bowed his head slightly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Swiftly, for most of them. The elders were burned alive in their homes. The men put up a fight, but they were no warriors.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “The women and children ran, but my men caught them. Some were executed. Others… we let them starve.”The hall was s

SCENE 1 – Queen Morenike & Darius: A Mother’s Plea, A Son’s RuthlessnessThe air inside Queen Morenike’s chamber was heavy with the scent of burning incense, but even the fragrant smoke couldn’t hide the tension between mother and son.Darius stood near the window, swirling a goblet of wine in his hand, his golden robe loosely draped over his frame. His expression was unreadable, though his lips curled in amusement as he listened to his mother speak.She sat on the cushioned seat across from him, her fingers gripping the armrests, her voice strained but composed.Darius smirked, swirling his drink. “And what does my dear mother want?”She took a breath. “The village Shakur burned down… It was unnecessary. Those people had already surrendered. There was no need for that kind of—”“Kind of what?” Darius interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “Discipline?”She hesitated. “Slaughter.”The smirk vanished. His fingers tapped lazily against the armrest.“You think this is easy, don’t you?” he said

⸻SCENE 1 – ZAFAR’S TRIAL: THE BREAKING POINTThe training ground lay under the weight of the late morning sun, its heat pressing down like an invisible hand. The air carried the scent of sweat, dirt, and the faint metallic tang of blood from past battles. Dry leaves rustled in the distance, and beyond the wooden fences, a few villagers lingered, watching from afar with wary eyes. They had grown used to the sight of Jagaban and his young student, but each day, they wondered if the boy would return home in one piece.A group of local boys, not much older than Zafar, leaned against a tree, whispering among themselves, exchanging glances filled with mockery and curiosity. Some bet he wouldn’t last the week. Others said he was already a dead man walking.In the center of the field, Zafar stood alone, his body covered in bruises, his breath heavy, his knuckles raw from gripping the wooden sword for too long. The weight of exhaustion clung to his limbs like chains, yet he refused to fall.J

⸻SCENE 1 – THE NIGHT OF RECKONINGThe night was thick with silence, but beneath its calm surface, something dark and merciless stirred.The king’s warriors moved like shadows through the sleeping kingdom, their eyes sharp, their hands ready to drag men from their beds into the unforgiving arms of justice. The torches in their grip flickered in the night breeze, casting wild, grotesque shadows against mudbrick walls as they stormed through the streets.The people—those who still clung to their illusions of safety—stood in doorways, peeking through windows, whispering hurried prayers to the gods as they watched their former leaders being ripped from their homes, one by one.And so it began.CHIEF ADEWALE – THE FIRST TO FALLThe guards broke down his doors, splintering wood and sending a sharp echo through the air. Inside, Adewale scrambled from his bed, reaching for the dagger hidden beneath his pillow. But it was useless.A steel-toed boot crashed into his chest, pinning him against t

⸻SCENE 1 – THE FIGHT FOR PRIDEThe late afternoon sun burned a deep gold, casting long shadows over the training ground. Dust rose in thick clouds as bare feet shifted over the earth.The marketplace beyond the arena buzzed with distant life—traders shouting, children laughing, the smell of roasted maize and palm wine hanging in the air. But here, within this circle of warriors and spectators, there was only silence.All eyes were on Zafar.And Gideon.The crowd remembered their last fight. The way Zafar had been knocked down, humiliated. But today, the young warrior stood with calm precision, his stance different, his body controlled.Even Gideon sensed it.He rolled his shoulders, stepping forward with a smirk. “Back for another loss, Zafar?”Zafar said nothing.He simply took his stance.Jagaban’s voice echoed in his mind:“Strength is knowing when to strike. Power is knowing when to hold back.”The fight began.Gideon struck first—a heavy right hook, aiming to overpower.Zafar wa