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Chapter 52 - Chapter 51: The Awakened Weapon and the Silence of the Ancients

The silence that followed Damba's destruction was brief. Too brief. As his body dissolved into a mist of dark energy, a deep, ancient tremor rippled through the air. Kimpa Vita felt the earth vibrate under her feet—a breath older than Mbanza, coursing through the city's hidden veins.

"He's gone," she whispered, her voice trembling. But neither she nor Alaric could ignore the growing pressure thickening around them.

Suddenly, the walls trembled. Glyphs ignited across the stone—ancient runes older than Mbanza itself. At the center of the chamber, where the magical weapon had been sealed, a core of light split open with a low rumble.

Kael, still leaning on Kimpa after his injuries, stepped closer, brow furrowed. "It's not over... Damba might have planned for this. The weapon... it's awakening."

Alaric's eyes locked onto the rising artifact. He felt it—the unmistakable imprint of the Ancients. But this time, it wasn't a gift. It was distorted. As if the weapon, forged to dominate, had stolen a fragment of their power… or worse, imitated it.

Kael knelt before the glowing glyphs. "This script... it's not just Aloktan. There's something from Eyoma here. As if Damba wove multiple magics together."

"He fused corrupted and sacred knowledge to create something that transcends kingdoms," Kimpa said. "This is no mere weapon. It's an abomination."

The weapon lifted slowly, wrapped in arcs of blue lightning, and an ethereal voice echoed through the chamber—neither fully human nor entirely spirit. It wasn't Damba's. It was older. Colder.

"He who claims the fire of the Ancients without offering shall have his memory erased."

The floor cracked. Black roots burst upward, writhing around them as if to force them back. Alaric raised his hand, calling on the energy he once received in Eyoma. But the power was sluggish. It resisted him. It clashed with another will. An ancient one.

Kimpa Vita acted first. She slammed her staff into the ground, chanting in the forgotten tongue of her lineage. The roots froze in place.

"We must destroy it now," she urged.

But Kael held her back, his eyes wide. "No. We need to understand what it wants. What it's waking. If we destroy it blindly, we might release something worse."

A choice stood before them: seal the weapon for good—risking a backlash—or try to commune with the entity behind its power. One that now seemed eerily close to the Ancients.

Alaric clenched his jaw. In the shadows, he heard whispers not meant for his companions. Ancient voices. Fragments of memories from Eyoma. Forgotten names. Blurred faces. Was it them? Was it... them speaking through this magic?

"This power cuts both ways," he thought. "If it's tied to the Ancients… then a part of me belongs to it."

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