The call-up came at dawn.
Posters had gone up all over Mbabane overnight, plastered on poles, shop windows, even the orphanage gate.
"MANDATORY RECRUITMENT: All males 16+ and females 18+ must report for national training. Failure to comply is treason."
By midday, buses lined the streets. Sbu stood in the queue with a small backpack, the air thick with nervous chatter. Some boys tried to act tough, others joked too loudly to hide their fear.
Inside his head, the lion guardian yawned.
"I remember when humans fought with sticks and courage. Now you've got tanks that can't scratch a frog with armor. Progress, huh?"
Sbu didn't answer. He was still trying to process that Eswatini—peaceful, quiet Eswatini—was preparing for war.
---
The buses took them to a hastily built camp outside Manzini. Rows of tents flapped in the wind, and soldiers barked orders left and right. The air smelled of sweat, dust, and boiled maize.
"Alright, recruits!" a deep voice bellowed.
A tall man in combat gear stepped forward—Sergeant Dlamini, muscles like braided steel. His presence demanded silence.
"You're all here because the world's gone mad," he began. "You've seen the news—beasts walking through bullets like rain. The Tier 1 in Nigeria? They dropped a dozen missiles on it. Didn't even tickle the thing."
Murmurs rippled through the recruits. Sbu swallowed hard.
Dlamini continued, voice steady but grim.
"Here's why. These things... their skin absorbs force. The more energy you throw at them—explosives, bullets, anything non-spiritual—the stronger they get. You can't kill energy with energy. But…" He paused, drawing a gleaming combat knife from his belt. "Qi is different. It's life energy. It disrupts their balance. You infuse qi into this—" he sliced the air, a faint shimmer trailing the blade, "—and suddenly, it cuts."
Someone raised a hand. "So… we're going back to stabbing monsters? Like, the old-school way?"
The sergeant cracked a half-smile. "Exactly. Welcome to the old school."
---
Training began the next morning.
They learned how to sit cross-legged and channel qi into their hands before even touching a weapon. Half of them fainted. The other half complained that they couldn't "feel the flow."
Sbu, however, had already done this hundreds of times. The qi in his body moved like a quiet stream, obedient and calm. When they finally held real knives, his blade hummed faintly with energy.
Sergeant Dlamini noticed. "You. Kid from the orphanage. You've done this before?"
Sbu shrugged. "I just practiced a bit."
From inside, Lungelo snorted. "Practiced a bit? You almost split your soul open doing it the first time."
The guardian's voice made Sbu's lips twitch, and he fought to hide a grin.
During drills, others struggled to maintain qi flow while swinging. Their blades flickered or sputtered. Sbu's glowed faintly steady. His control wasn't perfect, but it was solid—clean.
By the end of the week, word spread among the recruits:
"That kid Sbu, the quiet one? He's already got it figured out."
At night, when lights went out and snores filled the tent, Lungelo appeared beside his bed as a faint golden shimmer of a lion.
"You're improving faster than I expected," he said. "But don't get comfortable. Humans learn fast when scared. Soon, they'll catch up."
Sbu lay back, staring at the ceiling. "Then I'll just have to stay one step ahead."
The lion chuckled softly. "There it is. That's the spirit."
Outside, the camp siren wailed—a warning from the radio tower.
More Tier 0 beasts had crossed the border.
The war was coming closer.