Twenty-one years ago, Langa sat in the kitchen, peeling umbila in front of the fire. He was obviously bored, and his father glanced at him and smiled.
“Langelihle, do you want to hear inganekwane?” Sibusiso Zulu asked, putting another dry log in the fire so that the samp would have enough heat to finish cooking.
Langa’s eyes shone brightly, and he nodded quickly, looking up at his father in excitement. He loved it when he told him all of those old folktales and strange stories. There was always a lesson there, and the adventures always made Langa feel happy.
“Be warned, this one is a bit scary. When my father told it to me, he said that it is the origin of how our family became cursed.” Sibusiso beckoned his son closer, away from the smoke, and started the story. “Kwasukasukela, once upon a time when legends and spirits roamed the world, an injured snake appeared in a remote and poor village. This creature was no ordinary snake, though. It was a fearsome sight, with the villagers describing it as being about 20 metres long. They claimed it had the head of a woman, the lower body of a fish, and the neck and scaly skin of a snake. At night, its scales emitted a haunting green light."
Langa shivered, his imagination running wild as his heartbeat started to pick up. "That sounds scary, Baba! What did the villagers do when they saw it?"
His father leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Ah, mfan’wami, the villagers were filled with fear. They believed this creature to be a demon and prepared to burn it with fire, hoping to rid themselves of its presence."
He paused, letting the anticipation build. "Despite the fear, one man in the village saw something different. He thought that perhaps this snake was not a demon, but a gift from the ancestors in disguise. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands and save it. He snuck out of the village, carrying the injured snake to a nearby river, where he nursed it back to health."
Langa's face lit up. "That was brave of him." He knew that he would be too afraid to go near something so scary. In fact, he moved closer to his father because one of the shadows on the wall was starting to look like a snake. "Did he save it?"
Oblivious to his wariness, his father stood up, removed the pot from the fire, and dished up a hearty helping of samp and beans into a plate for Langa and one for himself before he sat down to continue the story. His voice took on a mysterious tone. "He did. The snake revealed herself to be a woman named Mamlambo. Grateful for the man's kindness, she offered to grant him a wish. Now, this man was poor, and he saw an opportunity to change his circumstances. He wished to be rich."
Langa's eyes sparkled with excitement as he brought a spoonful of samp into his mouth. He had grown up poor, so he also knew what it was like to dream of being rich. "And did he become rich, Baba?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Langelihle," his father said, but nodded to his question, a knowing smile on his face. "Indeed, he did get rich, but little did he know that Mamlambo was not an ordinary woman. She said that she was a formidable water spirit, and her favour came at a price. She demanded human sacrifices in exchange for her blessings. She gave the man a large snake in a claypot, claiming it was blessed by her great god. She told him to sacrifice people to the snake if he wanted to gain wealth. She also said that to maintain his newfound wealth, he would need to feed the snake with the sacrifice of every firstborn son in his family."
Langa's face fell, filled with sadness. Even as a child, that sounded awful and wrong to him.
“The man made a decision, enticed by the promise of riches. He sacrificed his entire village to the snake. The snake devoured everything in its path, corrupting the very existence of the village until nothing remained where it once stood. With his newfound wealth, the man left that area and started a new life elsewhere. In his life, he had many cattle, married many wives, and had many children. And even after his death, with each generation, the tradition continued. The firstborn son was sacrificed to the snake in the claypot to maintain the family's riches."
Langa did not understand. "But, Baba, why would they do that? If the snake had money, then they should have just killed the snake and not given it any sacrifices,” he said after thinking about it carefully. “It’s the easy way to get rich.”
Sibusiso burst out laughing and placed a gentle hand on his son’s head. “You know, Langelihle, sometimes I wonder what kind of a man you’ll grow up to be. Sometimes it's not possible to take shortcuts or the easy way out.” He laughed again, still shaking his head. “If your mother knew that I was telling you stories about demon snakes and child sacrifice, she would skin me alive.”
Langa’s heart went cold, and he pushed away his plate of food. “How would she know? Mama never comes to visit.”
His father’s face turned away, guilt replacing his earlier laughter. “Hey, I know, for your birthday next week, how about I ask Thandi if I can take you and Neo to see King Shaka Zulu’s memorial in KwaDukuza? It’ll be fun for you boys, and I can teach you all about our ancestors’ history.”
Langa nodded enthusiastically. He didn’t care about history, but he was excited to go on an outing with his father and his nephew.
Seeing his son smiling again, Sibusiso breathed a sigh of relief. “Anyway, back to the story, Langelihle, this is where our tale takes a different turn. One young female descendant of the family faced a difficult situation. Her name was Lindiwe and she had only one son, and it had been hard for her to give birth to him. She could not bear the thought of sacrificing her precious child. So, she pleaded with the snake in the claypot to take her life instead and end the curse on her son. The greedy snake only cared about devouring humans, so it accepted her sacrifice."
The story was a little scary, but Langa looked up at his father, waiting for him to continue telling it, his plate of food forgotten.
"The son was filled with anger over his mother's death, so he confronted the snake and slayed it. He did not care about the family's wealth anymore, he only wanted his mother back. Mamlambo was angered by the deal made by Lindiwe and the snake, fearing the loss of sacrifices for her god. She sought to somehow trick the son into continuing the tradition. She appeared in front of him and offered a new deal for him. If he wanted his mother to be reborn, he had to slay Mamlambo herself."
Langa's brows furrowed in confusion. "How could he do that, Baba?" Wasn't she a spirit? Could spirits be killed? He had no idea.
His father’s voice grew solemn. "Yes, the son was mortal so he had no power to slay her. He said as much to her, asking where he could obtain enough power to slay a spirit like her. So, Mamlambo offered a twisted bargain to grant him power. In exchange for all his firstborn male descendants dying young, they would each be born with a special talent. If any of them used their special gifts to slay Mamlambo, then his mother would be reborn." Sibusiso said and gathered his and his son's plates of food into the basin at the back of the kitchen.
“Filled with grief and mourning the loss of his mother, the son accepted the deal. And so it went, each generation of his family continued the cycle. They were all born with special talents, but the catch that Mamlambo had failed to mention was that they had to steal fortune from those they loved in order to make their talents grow stronger. And if they failed to slay Mamlambo, they would die young." Sibusiso sighed and looked down at his son. “And that is the legend of why all the firstborn men in our family, no matter how rich or talented they are, die young.”
“Then I’m going to die young?” Langa asked, both confused and scared.
"I don't think so," his father said, shaking his head. “What I told you is just what my father told me. If you ask me, it was just an excuse to waste away his life doing nothing after he squandered his father's wealth, and blaming his failures and losses on a curse,” he said, lips tight as he thought of his own father.
“So the curse isn’t real?” Langa asked hopefully.
Sibusiso placed a hand on his son's shoulder. “It doesn’t matter whether it’s real or not. The lesson here is that it is not the curse that defines us, but how we choose to face the challenges that life throws at us. We must strive to break the cycle and find a way to free ourselves from the burden that has plagued our family for generations."
At the time, Langa didn’t understand the lesson, but he nodded enthusiastically because he loved his father’s stories.
*
<
Langa's hazy mind jolted awake. Was that a real memory, or was he lucidly dreaming? Who was the woman talking to his father? As he gasped for air, he closed his eyes, as he tried to picture his father's face. His father had always been his guiding light, teaching him the ways of honour and respect. No, he needed to concentrate on the fight as he was lying inside the hole, body aching terribly.
Langa pulled out his last vitality potion, but he could not drink it as it was still on cool-down. He furrowed his brow in surprise. This potion had a cool-down of 120 seconds, which meant that he had only been unconscious for less than twenty seconds because he was sure that it had been over two minutes since he drank his last one. Oh well, he needed to do something about the pain first before Psike realised he was still alive.
"System, convert 100 Stamina to HP," he said, breath heavy. Wasting so much stamina for 10HP was not much in the long run, but at least he was able to stand now. His thoughts briefly drifted back to his memories.
He had always thought that his father’s stories were just that, stories and myths. But if gods were real, and legends were coming to life in the Tower, then was the story of the origin of his family's curse real? Did an ancestor of his truly make a deal with a snake demon? It made some sense, especially the part about special gifts. His great-grandfather had been a successful landowner with many farms until his grandfather sold them all, his father had been smart, with no money but with two Master's Degrees in Theology and African History at a young age thanks to scholarships, and Langa was born with a talent for running fast. Could he use his speed to slay Mamlambo? She had to be a deity, and he did not know if it was possible to kill an immortal.
Either way, the prospect that he could break his curse was like fuel for his veins. He took his agility booster potion that gave him +1 Agility for 30 seconds. It was what gave him the strength to jump out of the hole as he Flash Stepped upwards and out of the hole, ready to once again face off against the boss monster. He was alert, unsure if the monster thought he was dead or if he was waiting for him to come out.
The club that came straight at Langa as soon as he landed, told him the answer. Psike was ready for him, lying in wait in his invisible state, not that it was easy to sense with his aura of decay filling the throne room. He ducked down, but this time instead of straightening up right in front of the boss, he rolled on the uneven floor, and stood up away from the range of his claws.
Langa's breaths came in irregular gasps as he shot forward before the trollimp could disappear and sliced deep into his arm with the mana-filled Tonare. With his mind in so much disarray, he did not need to think. He'd wanted to infuse the glaive with mana so what little mana he had left flowed from his hands into Tonare as if it was natural. this connection. Was this what it meant to be at the peak of the beginner level? He wanted to ask the Legacy, but before he could it spoke.
"Eyes forward," it said. Once again, it felt like it was speaking inside his head and he could not see it.
Still, he obeyed the command as Psike growled at him, his long sharp claws from the regenerating hand barely a few centimetres away from Langa's face. He could not get hurt again as the air was still covered with the lingering aura of the trollimp boss, and it would be poison if it seeped into his skin.
Of course, he could always Flash Step away or use his attribute if he was in any true danger, but he was conserving his stamina to use them both together at the end to end the fight.
"Third step," the Legacy instructed, and for a moment Langa was confused, he would not have thought to use that movement here, but he understood the Legacy's vision. He took a single step back with Tonare pulled back as well, ready to thrust forward into the trollimp's belly. However, the trollimp stepped back as he was thrusting forward, disappearing once more. But the trick here was that Psike only thought he was outside Tonare's range but Langa extended the shaft as he swung, knowing that the boss was not that fast and should still be near the area he disappeared from.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
A resistance of flesh, the clean slice into the trollimp's side, and a scream later, Psike reappeared clutching his bleeding chest. Langa poured Kiribo’s Swear over him causing the wounds to fester even more, the fire slowing his health regeneration. Finally, Psike was below 2000 HP.
“Human!" the trollimp screamed, releasing more black goo from his club which Langa effortlessly dodged.
The trollimp spun and swung his club at him but Langa held up Tonare, blocking it with all his might. Of course with his pitiful strength, that was not much, so he Flash Stepped back. It was strange how hazy the world looked as he dodged more black goo and his heart sped up. It felt like the time when he'd unlocked the attribute. He could not put his finger on it, but he knew that he was on the cusp of grasping something. All he could do was strike, retreat, and swing his glaive as he felt something inside of him building up.
Tonare buzzed as he infused it with lightning, and he had a sudden flash of inspiration from his perfect execution of the third step. There was one move that the Legacy had tried to teach him with the footwork, where instead of defending, Langa could counterattack. It was not an easy movement, but it felt like Tonare was telling him that he was ready to try it. However, it could only be done at short distances, and the spear was too long at this range.
What was he missing? He had been swinging this glaive for two weeks now, he was connected to it, but something was blocking him from upgrading the skill from Beginner Level 10 to Intermediate Level 1. He had to do it now because the bonus to learning from The Lackadaisical Herald would be over once he completed the Sponsorship Challenge.
He sidestepped to the right to avoid Psike's claw darts, and the trollimp's leg kicked out at him, but Langa was able to move his body according to the Second Step of Legacy of The Tonare Thunderbird Spearmanship, slashing his thigh with Tonare.
When he took that step, he felt The Lackadaisical Herald's essence all over him. All the things that he was sovereign over seemed to align at this moment. Life from the allemak lifeblood inside him, lightning from Tonare and his full affinity, decay from the corruption surrounding this entire throne room, and sloth because he wanted to end this as soon as he could and get some rest. All four principles connected inside him, and for a single moment in time, Langa saw.
He was no longer in the throne room but in a massive desert wasteland. Time stood still as he watched the thunderbird who had given him the Legacy fighting against a maestril. When he saw how the thunderbird used Tonare, Langa instinctively knew that he was seeing through the eyes of The Lackadaisical Herald. He was seeing everything. The way the thunderbird's muscles contracted with every swing, the way his moves aligned with the glaive as if it could read him, executing the movements as he envisioned them. They were one.
Just as quickly, his point of view shifted, and he instinctively executed the move he'd seen from the thunderbird.
With his right foot, Langa stepped right, narrowly avoiding the club, then he placed the left foot right next to the right, transferring his weight to the left foot so that the right foot could complete the footwork by stepping completely to the right. The added weight put more strength into Tonare, and it was like the movement became clear to him a second before he executed it. He had no idea why he had struggled with it before. Perhaps it was because he always reverted to his running form, and that always emphasised balance, which was a stark contrast to this unbalanced manoeuvre. The range was too short, so he shrank the glaive and slashed at the boss with the shortsword. The slash that he performed cleanly severed Psike's left arm from his body.
The hum that came from Tonare coincided with the proud, pleased, and regretful look on the Legacy's face. The non-relevant notifications were turned off during combat, but Langa knew that Legacy of The Tonare Thunderbird Spearmanship had reached the Intermediate level.
The moment he finished the move, the Legacy's form flickered, and its thunderbird appearance vanished for a second, leaving only the ghostly glaive that it was holding with a black ghostly crystal embedded on the blade. For a moment, when the skill levelled up, Langa felt connected to something greater, a purpose that he never knew that he had. His eyes saw much clearer, everything was covered in pure white lightning, and it felt as if Langa's entire existence revolved around the movements of Legacy of The Tonare Thunderbird Spearmanship, and he only existed to cut at his master's command. He was the essence of the legacy.
But just as soon as he felt that, Tonare violently vibrated out of his hand and clattered to the ground.
What was that connection? Langa wondered, stupified. He could not see the Legacy anymore, so he ducked down to avoid the boss' sluggish club, and while he was at it, he picked up Tonare and darted away.
Psike raised his gigantic spiked club, rushing towards him, and Langa immediately raised Tonare, and whispered, "Impulse Pulse."
50% of his total stamina was drained immediately, and the world slowed down for him. With the loss of stamina, he was currently only at 120 STA since he had not been at full capacity. That meant that he could only use his Velocity for 2 seconds before he ran out of stamina.
His heart thudding uncontrollably in his chest, Langa activated both Flash Step and Thunderbird's Stunning Strike, slashing vertically down the trollimp's torso. He poured all of the Kiribo's Sweat that he had on him onto the wound, and time righted itself.
The boss monster spotted a shocked expression on his ugly face when he saw the large burning slash on his entire torso crackling with lightning. Psike howled in pain, and let out an agonised scream, convulsing as the corruption spread rapidly throughout his body. The decay that he had been using as a weapon was consuming him from within. The foul aura of decay dissipated, leaving behind only the stench of charred flesh. and after resisting for a mere second, the trollimp fell to the ground, dead.
[Critical hit! Impulse Pulse activated!]
(Psike) - 1558 HP
Lightning discipline damage: (Psike) - 1558 HP
Instant kill achieved.
Backlash (Langa Zulu) - 271 HP]
The backlash hit Langa like a fucking high-speed train, unbalancing him and sending him falling to the ground in pain. "Fuck! Yhoo!" he shouted as the lightning engulfed him, all over his hands and up his arms. His heart was screaming in his chest, not slowing down even a little, and he was under the stamina debuff as well. He was in pain, but he managed to try and sit up as tired as he was. He looked around for the Legacy, and when he found it, it was completely transparent now, fading every second.
“You did well,” the Legacy said, looking down at him with pride in its eyes.
Langa's heart ached a bit as he watched it. The Legacy quest was complete, so now it was disappearing. He did not know if he would have been able to get through this dungeon alone without it, and thanks to that strange connection he'd made during the fight, he finally understood exactly what the Legacy truly was.
“You're Tonare,” he said, looking up at it and breathing heavily. He meant it both as the glaive and as the person who created the legacy.
“I wondered if you were ever going to make the connection, but at the last moment, you did," the Legacy said softly. "Tonare is dead. I am what remains, the essence of his legacy. Listen, Langa, you need to find as many components of this legacy as possible. Since you obtained a part of his legacy, all of his legacies will be drawn to this Tower, to you. That doesn't mean that other people won't get to them first, though. Since you're the first, you will be able to sense when any dungeons, gates or rifts carrying Tonare's legacy are nearby."
“Sure. You're fading,” Langa said quietly. "Can you not stay longer?"
“This form was always temporary. A Blessing, from Tonare’s master’s master. But I am always with you, in your hand. We are now connected through the divine nexus,” it smiled. “When you raise The Legacy of The Tonare Thunderbird Spearmanship skill to higher levels, perhaps we will be able to speak again like this.”
Langa was happy that the Legacy would remain with him as the glaive, and he vowed to himself that he would continue raising the skill all the way up to Grandmaster level, and see it again. “Thank you for everything, without you, I wouldn’t have come this far,” he said honestly. He would also have been lonely throughout this entire dungeon by himself.
It laughed. “Of course not, you're just a lonely child from a lost world searching for your purpose and place in the multiverse,” the Legacy said. Langa scowled. Did it have to be rude even now? It looked down at the glaive next to Langa. “But you are the one who found me.”
Its whole body had disappeared, and all that was left was its face. “That foolish foxkin left me locked inside her shrine for over 100 years. But at least she made sure I was protected. Remember to constantly practice infusing your mana. I will always accept all the mana you can give me," it said. "Goodbye, Langa. Thank you for finding me."
With those words, the Legacy vanished. The last wisps of light from where it once stood flowed into the glaive in Langa’s hand, and he held it tightly to his chest.
Unbelievably, he was mourning as if he lost a friend when it was just a fucking glaive. The Challenge quest was not marked completed yet, as he did not have the full 100 trollimp healing sacs in hand. Langa lay down on the broken floor of the throne room, regenerating his health before he finished the quest.
A few minutes later, Langa's health had regenerated above 30%, and he stood up, shrinking Tonare and putting it back into its sheath. He walked over to the body of the boss monster and pulled out the healing sac. Once he was done with that, he went past the collapsed wall and looked down into the gully. The whole place stank of burning flesh and fire, but the allemaks were busy looting the deformed bodies down there.
"Are you guys not done yet?" Langa called out, his voice echoing in the large space.
"Done," the elder allemak called back, and Langa sat on the throne room floor, waiting as the allemaks crawled up the large hole to reach him. They climbed up the destroyed gully and onto the broken rubble that was once a floor, covered in pink and red liquid, a mixture of their lifeblood and the blood of the trollimps.
“You slayed the leader of our oppressors, how can we ever thank you?” the allemak elder asked.
Langa shrugged, “I was just completing my quest. Besides, Aramaga's bag is full of too many things already. If I carry any more, it would slow me down.” He had already made the allemaks sort through the mess of bodies in the lifeblood pool, and that was payment enough.
The response seemed to surprise the elder, and he watched Langa thoughtfully. The allemaks diligently placed one healing sac after another at Langa’s feet as more of them continued to crawl up from below. He counted the healing sacs once it seemed that the allemaks were all on this side.
“Is this all of them?” he asked, and he looked at the little allemaks suspiciously.
“Yes, of course it is,” the elder allemak said. “We are an honest people. Besides, we do not need any more life magic.”
Langa still checked his kill notifications just to be sure, and they did match up with the number that the allemaks had brought. Not that he didn’t trust the little guys, but it was always better to be sure. He was missing a few healing sacs from the trollimp garden, though. As soon as he collected the healing sacs, a notification appeared in front of him.
[Congratulations! You have completed the Sponsorship Challenge and Legacy Quest.
You have killed 112 Trollimps.
You have collected 107 healing sacs.
You have raised the Skill: Legacy of the Tonare Thunderbird Spearmanship to Intermediate Level 1.
Rewards will be issued by The Lackadaisical Herald of the Lightning Storm. Please wait]
Before he could react, suddenly, a white light, vivid and blinding, materialised before him, forming a complex magic circle that continuously expanded until it formed a large ring in the air, big enough for a person to pass through. Once it was done forming, the brightness intensified, and Langa's eyes widened in awe and fear, clutching Tonare as the allemaks scrambled to hide behind him.
A figure emerged from the light, graceful and refined in his gait. Every fibre of Langa's being screamed that this was a deity, his karma trembling. When Langa looked at him, his appearance overloaded his mind, and his thoughts turned blank. He screamed and fell back in shock.
The deity stood up straight in front of the circle. Four shining wings extended from his back, their feathers bright like burnished metal. Long bronze legs touched the floor of the dungeon. His entire body had an unnatural glow to it, reminiscent of a thousand gemstones. That brightness contrasted with his eyes, which were pitch black.
As the being unfolded his wings, Langa recoiled even more in shock. Eyes were on every inch of his body, covering his back, hands, and the very wings that exuded power. The many eyes on his body gazed into Langa’s very soul as if seeing everything that he was and everything that he would become. He was scared, and he wanted to run as far away from this powerful being as he could. However, his body could not move, held in place by the karma of this deity, even though he was applying no karma pressure to him. Yet his body was willingly submitting, even that strange black power in his heart did not react at all.
<
Black eyes looked into Langa’s own, and his fear disappeared as if it had never been there. It was clear that the constellation had done something to him, but Langa only cared that he was able to move again, so he stood up. The allemaks on the other hand, were all unconscious on the throne room floor.
“Incarnation?” Langa asked. He remembered that constellations serving a god could be chosen as their god’s Incarnation, to make appearances to mortals, as gods were not allowed to appear in physical form inside mortal domains. “And what the hell do you mean, ‘do not be afraid’? Have you seen what you look like, dude?”
It probably wasn’t a good idea to snap at his future god’s Incarnation, but Langa had nearly had a heart attack when he saw this form.
The deity frowned, looking down at himself. <
“No!” Langa rubbed his temple. Weren’t angels traditionally beautiful feminine creatures with pretty wings? They weren't scary like this. “Anyway, Mr. Tarquinius, I remember you. You’re the first deity who offered me a Challenge when I first reached the 1st Floor and you got punished for it, right?”
The constellation’s radiant face cringed. <> His eyes lost focus for a second before returning to their black colour. <
Langa really wanted to hear what was so special about Tonare that Tarquinius had nearly broken the Deiwos Clan's rules, but he moved closer to the constellation. He was nervous. If the Incarnation looked like this, how scary would The Lackadaisical Herald look? Tarquinius spread his wings and spoke in that earlier, eerie voice. <
[You have been placed under the protection of a Sovereign Authority.]
[Sovereign Authority
Authority: ‘He who enters my divine shelter will be protected under my shadow .’
Sovereign: Adtonifulmin: The Lackadaisical Herald of The Lightning Storm.
Invocation: No being, mortal or immortal, may enter Adtonifulmin’s domain without either being Blessed by this Authority, or being his Visage. Any mortal that attempts to enter his domain without it will permanently die, and any immortal who attempts to enter his domain without it will suffer from karma-implosion.]
A wave of essence filled Langa's body, and the lightning inside his body vibrated, but otherwise, he didn’t feel any different, so he looked up at the constellation questioningly.
<
Langa approached the magical portal, both curious and terrified, his steps hesitant but steady. The air around the portal glowed with strange magic that was reaching out to him. As he took his first step into the gateway, a prickling sensation enveloped him, like a thousand delicate needles twisting through his very existence, his karma itself.
The world around Langa shifted furiously as if reality itself were being reshaped. Thirteen paths were in front of him as well as the strange fourteenth one he always saw, with creatures moving around it. Four of them lit up, silver, yellow, grey and black. The shadows on the fourteenth pathway danced chaotically, and he felt a gentle pull, a force guiding him through the portal. A weightlessness overcame him as if gravity had momentarily released him and there was a paradoxical feeling of both being grounded and free, and then the sensation of movement ceased, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a realm beyond his comprehension.