Chapter 2 COUNCIL OF CORRUPTION

"Power, when rotted, wears a crown of silence."

The Umukaru Council Chamber was built on stolen money and silence. Red tiles gleamed under imported chandeliers, and polished wood masked the smell of corruption like perfume on a corpse. At the center sat **Chief Alozie**, the council's head-a man who wore tradition like armor but trafficked in sin behind closed doors.

He tapped his fingers on the table as the others entered. Twelve men, most of them old, well-fed, and long past the point of conscience. They arrived one by one, laughing, exchanging pleasantries-until the final man stepped in.

Dike Obana.

Tall. Impeccably dressed in a white native tunic embroidered with blood-red thread. His presence silenced the room. His eyes were as dead as stone.

"So," Chief Alozie began, clearing his throat, "what is the status of the land?"

Dike sat without answering. The man behind him-the one with the sunglasses and jagged scar across his lip-remained standing, arms folded.

"The boy is alive," Dike said finally.

A murmur stirred.

"Impossible," said one of the elders. "We torched the entire field. We buried the parents. There was no sign of the boy."

Dike leaned forward, resting both hands on the table. His voice was calm. Calculated.

"You buried a house. You didn't bury rage."

The scarred man stepped forward and dropped a **photograph** onto the table. Blurry. Grainy. But clear enough. It showed **Kane**, now grown, stepping into a bus station several towns away.

"He's not just alive," Dike continued. "He's watching. And he's coming back."

Chief Alozie swallowed hard. "Then we need to find him. Kill him again. Properly, this time."

"No," Dike said coldly. "We don't kill boys. We destroy men."

Far away, in a broken compound north of the Delta, Kane stepped into a dimly lit room for the first time in four years. The air smelled of oil and sweat. Rusted training equipment lined the walls. Empty gun shells crunched under his boots.

This was the home of Malachi.

He appeared from the shadows like a wraith-tall, lean, head shaved, one eye milky white. His body was scarred like a map of war. And in his good eye, there burned a flame of recognition.

"You must be Dominic's stray."

"I'm Kane Asari," he replied. "My parents were-"

"Assassinated," Malachi interrupted. "I know. Everyone knows. That land was cursed the moment your father said no."

Kane didn't flinch. "I want revenge."

Malachi turned, walking deeper into the room. "Then you'll need more than anger."

He opened a steel locker and pulled out a blade. Curved. Cold. Beautiful.

"You'll need discipline. Training. Fearlessness."

Kane stepped forward, reached for the blade. But Malachi yanked it back.

"You think revenge is about killing?" he growled. "It's about surviving the killing. Over and over. Until your soul is dust and your name is legend."

Kane met his gaze, unblinking.

"Then teach me."

Back in Umukaru, the council members began taking steps-silencing old witnesses, burning records, transferring money offshore.

But Kane wasn't coming back as a witness.

He was coming back as an executioner.

And with every move they made...

They were only feeding the fire.

As the council meeting comes to a close, Dike Obana lingers behind after the others have gone. Chief Alozie moves to stand, but Dike raises a hand.

"There's something else," he says.

Alozie sighs. "What now?"

Dike pulls out a sealed envelope and drops it on the table. The wax bears an unusual insignia-a coiled serpent around a crucifix.

"The boy wasn't just taken in by any church," Dike says slowly. "The man who raised him... was Father Dominic."

Alozie narrows his eyes. "That name again?"

"Dominic wasn't just a priest. Before he hid in robes, he was Captain Dominic Chuma-the military intelligence officer who exposed half the cartel's gun routes in the 90s. He disappeared after a failed assassination attempt."

Alozie stiffens. "You're saying the priest has trained the boy for this?"

Dike nods.

"Then this isn't a revenge story anymore," Alozie murmurs, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "This is a war."

Dike gives a thin smile. "And you just made the first move by burning his family."

Modified Ending to Chapter Two:

As Kane trains under Malachi, he begins to notice strange signs-coded messages left in the margins of the notebook Father Dominic gave him. Hidden coordinates. Unspoken warnings. Even Malachi seems tense when Kane mentions Dominic's full name.

One night, after a brutal training session, Malachi pulls Kane aside.

"You need to be careful, boy."

"Why?"

"Because the man who raised you? He didn't just teach you to pray. He was once the executioner of men like Dike."

Kane stares at him.

And for the first time...

He realizes his war didn't begin with his father's death.

It began long before he was even born.

Malachi's Domain

Days turned to weeks. Kane's body screamed with every movement, every drill, every fall on the jagged gravel of Malachi's private training ground. Pain became his companion; bruises his trophies.

"Again," Malachi barked, tossing him a wooden blade.

Kane's grip was firm, though his hands bled.

"Faster. You move like your bones are still grieving."

Kane charged, aiming for Malachi's ribs. The older man parried with ease and sent him crashing to the ground.

"You fight like you want to die. Is that your goal? To be a martyr?"

Kane rose slowly, jaw tight. "No. I want to become the punishment."

Malachi's lips curled slightly-a cruel smirk of approval.

"Good. Because justice is dead. What's left is retribution."

Flashback: The Land They Died For

At night, Kane sometimes dreamt of fire.

His father, Adigwe Asari, stood tall in front of their home, machete in one hand, his wife clutching his other arm. Smoke drifted in from the edge of the forest. Men-masked and armed-approached.

"They offered us money," his mother whispered. "Why didn't we just..."

"No," Adigwe said. "That land carries our bloodline. If we sell, we vanish."

The men didn't wait for negotiations. The last thing Kane saw before hiding in the yam cellar was his mother's scream-and the flash of gunfire.

Back in the Present

Malachi handed Kane a dossier.

"Your first mission. Don't celebrate. This man-*Azubuike Ikenna*-was a courier for the cartel. He ran drugs through school compounds. Children. He was also the one who reported your father's refusal to the council."

Kane stared at the photo. "Alive?"

"For now. But if he's dead tomorrow, it's because you proved you're more than words."

Kane didn't hesitate.

Council Watch: A Traitor in Their Midst

Unbeknownst to the others, someone within the council had begun sending anonymous letters to a forgotten office in Lagos-detailing corruption, drug routes, and a list of names that included every council member.

That traitor?

Councilman Ebube Nwachukwu.

Soft-spoken, always in the shadows during meetings. He had lost a daughter to the very drug trade they now fueled. And though his hands were dirty, his heart had not yet rotted completely.

One night, after a council gathering, Ebube returned home to find a sealed envelope on his bed.

No name. Just two words written in crimson ink:

We see.

The First Kill

Azubuike lived in a guarded compound outside Port Harcourt. Inside, loud music drowned out the cries of a girl locked in the back room.

Kane scaled the wall quietly, moved through the shadows like a whisper. His pulse was steady. His breath cold.

Inside the main hall, Azubuike laughed drunkenly, a girl on each knee.

Until Kane stepped into the room.

"What the fu-"

The shot silenced everything.

One clean bullet to the head.

The others screamed, but Kane was already gone-ghostlike.

He didn't feel triumph. He didn't feel regret.

He felt clarity.

Amanda: The Ember in the Ash

That night, while Kane washed the blood from his hands in an abandoned warehouse, he wasn't alone.

She stood at the far end of the room, cloaked in black, long braids falling over one shoulder. Eyes sharp, lips unsmiling.

"You're sloppy," she said. "You left boot marks at the window."

Kane spun, blade half drawn.

"I'm not here to kill you," she added. "If I were... you'd already be dead."

He studied her.

"You followed me?"

"No. I followed him," she said, tossing a photo toward him.

It was Azubuike. Crossed out in red.

"I've been hunting him for months," she said, stepping into the light. "You just beat me to it."

Kane finally spoke. "Who are you?"

"Amanda."

Her eyes narrowed.

"And now... I want in."

Council Panic

News of Azubuike's death spread like wildfire. The council grew restless.

"Someone is hunting us," Chief Alozie snapped. "Someone who knows the past."

"They're not just killing," Dike said. "They're making a statement. Azubuike's tongue was cut out."

"What does that mean?"

Dike's expression turned cold.

"It means the boy wants us silent... forever."

Partners in Vengeance

Back in Malachi's compound, Amanda was testing a modified pistol while Kane observed.

"You're good," he said.

"I'm more than good," she replied, not looking up.

"Why do you want revenge?"

She clicked the safety off. "Because I used to believe justice was enough. Then they murdered my sister and left her body in a school compound filled with children."

Silence settled between them. Heavy. Honest.

Kane spoke.

"We're going to destroy them all."

Amanda smiled faintly.

"Not just destroy them. We'll unmake them."