Damon's Ascension-Chapter 61: The Attack on Kumasi Fort 2

For the second time today, Damon overlooked the Kumasi Fort, this time surrounded by Ashanti warriors ready to make a charge. The young man seemed to be studying the fort, but his mind was elsewhere.

Well, he had finally gotten a look at Yaa Asantewaa of this era, and he had to admit, she was every bit as fierce as the history books described. Considering that history was normally written by men, for them to acknowledge that a woman was exemplary, she must have been nothing short of a force of nature.

Unfortunately, unlike modern Ghanaian girls with softer features and even more voluptuous forms, Yaa Asantewaa was akin to the warrior women of this era, with rough, hard features and a very well-built body that was suitable for battle.

This added to her aura of intimidation as she genuinely looked like she could grab your neck and lift you up with ease.

"Obetse, we will be launching the charge in a minute. Please position yourself and your men to the left flank." The burly warrior, who was one of the Ashanti tribe’s war leaders called the Krontihene, spoke in a neutral tone.

Damon nodded and gestured his men to set up in the place they were given. He already knew that this left flank was the least dangerous area, which was likely an accommodation the Ashanti made for their voluntary helpers.

While Damon did not mind piercing through the main thoroughfare, his men were not as special as he was and would likely not survive the encounter, which would be detrimental to his grading, and that was the last thing he wanted given how much he had gained after his great ratings in the previous two instances.

Soon, the gongs sounded for the charge to begin, and the Krontihene, who unusually joined this charge, roared as he charged forth. Damon and his men also rushed forth, his men bellowing Ga clan war chants while their leader remained silent.

Within the fort, the number of remaining British soldiers had dwindled to around 300 after enduring three months of relentless assaults and charges. Starvation, exhaustion, and the constant threat of attack had turned their existence into a living hell, with safety becoming a fleeting illusion.

The majority of the area was covered in grime, excrement, and waste, as the toilets had long been choked full but unable to be cleaned out due to the siege. The remaining British soldiers were bloodshot due to the lack of rest and the looming situation. freeweɓnøvel.com

The Ashanti launched attacks every few hours, utilizing their home-field advantage and sheer number of warriors to whittle them down bit by bit. Many of these soldiers had initially been able to rest and rotate during the first month of the siege, but as numbers dwindled, even the civilians and support personnel had been dragged to the walls and battlements to fire at the incoming warriors.

So they could only catch gaps of sleep during the few hours of rest in between the Ashanti charges, and now, they were woken up by this sudden charge and had to scramble to defend the fort once more.

Sir Hodgson, the perpetrator of all this with his arrogant demands, was just as fatigued as his bloodshot eyes, yet he scanned the field below nonetheless. He stood above the main battlement, directing the cannon fire and the defensive shooting, manning a gun himself.

The man couldn’t remember the last time he had relied on his marksmanship skills to survive after rising to the rank of officer. But here, in this brutal siege, he had quickly come to a stark realization: if he wanted to make it out alive and see his family again, he had no choice but to pick up a rifle and fight.

The glares from his men and personnel haunted him day and night, especially as many roared their hatred for him in their death throes. They had come to this beaten and broken land of savages to gloat and parade around, so why were they now dying in a land so far from theirs covered in shit and piss?

It all stemmed from that fateful parade. Seeing the proud Ashanti warriors glare at him with fierce, restrained fury, yet unable to act, had emboldened him. Fueled by arrogance, he had carelessly gone a step too far, brazenly demanding that they hand over what they considered to be a sacred object.

And so the natives, who seemed willing to forbear a lot, finally lost it and decided to die through rebellion rather than live through submission.

Luckily, the natives had their own traitors among them who were willing to bend over for British favor, secretly signaling the troops along the coast to send reinforcements for them, otherwise, they would have long broken down and been unable to hold out.

Just one week!

Sir Hodgson’s bloodshot eyes were filled with hope and desperation, as he knew that in one week, the reinforcements would arrive and tear through these bastard savages, granting them freedom and revenge.

All they had to do was hold out! Whether it was one charge from these savages or a hundred, just hold out till the end!

He had roared as such to his men, which was what kept them on their two feet all this while. Whether it was from the perspective of history or from the British warriors here, this charge would be just another one that they would eventually struggle to repel, but unfortunately for them, a foreign element had been mixed in.

The defenders at the left flank were made up of the weakest civilians who had only recently been taught how to maintain a firing line in a moment of stress, so that was why the defense here was weakest.

Usually, this weakness would be exploited by other armies to break through, but as stated before, the Ashanti did not really want to break through.

They wanted to leave a message.

Damon was here to change all that, and it started when he suddenly accelerated crazily ahead of his warriors, crossing the 400-meter killing field between the walls of the fort and the lines of the Ashanti warriors, causing both sides to be shocked.

In the quarter of a minute, Damon, who was like a lone blur crossing the killing field and avoiding the hastily fired bullets at him, vaulted upwards with his full strength, clearing the walls of the fort and landing on one of the battlements.

His confident smile faded, replaced by a look of disgust as he took in the deplorable state of the British soldiers and the crumbling fort. History, as expected, had been sanitized to preserve some dignity for the survivors, but the reality before him was far grimmer than any account had dared to admit.

Immediately, the young man channeled the moonlight granted by the Silver Eclipse skill into his feet, coating the soles of his boots in ice and skating forward in order to avoid the muck from getting to him.

Seeing this supernatural feat, the British warriors were even more dazed. They were already tired and at the end of their ropes, so seeing a savage move at cheetah-like speeds, make an impossible jump, and then create ice on his feet as if he were some sort of wizard naturally pushed their sensibilities to the limit.

Damon gave them no time to process the horror before them. In a blur of motion, his unsheathed cutlass carved through throats with effortless precision, each strike a single, lethal kill. Without breaking stride or even stooping, he slid past the group, weaving through the fort’s crumbling walls, dispatching defender after defender with ruthless efficiency.

By the time he was done with the left flank, his people had reached the walls and began climbing up using ladders, surprised that there was nobody firing at them. When they reached the top, they were first disgusted by the filth and then shocked by the carnage laid by Damon, with a clean line of dead bodies leaking blood slumped across the battlements.

Was this the power of their Obetse? Why weren’t they aware of this?

The rest of the charging Ashanti warriors also noticed that something was wrong when halfway into their charge the once-fierce counterfire began to weaken, sputter, and then completely cease, allowing them to reach the gates of the fort with their battering ram ready.

Even as they heaved and hoed, smashing the battering ram against the gates, none came down to stop them or pour hot oil down to deter them. Up until the moment they smashed the gate down, they encountered not the slightest resistance, charging into the fort with bloodshot eyes, ready to kill some British invaders to make them pay for their insolence!

However, they were met with a messy sight full of human filth and rotting bodies, causing even the hardened warriors to cover their noses, while some had to walk back outside to get fresh air.

The Krontihene, who led the charge, frowned deeply and was not bothered by the smell, taking a select few elite warriors upwards through the fort to the main battlements to find out what became of the British leaders.

It was there the Krontihene was met with the sight of sprawled bodies of British warriors, all who wore expressions of shock and fear up until their last moment, as if they had seen something impossible.

Finally, there was Damon, standing amidst the chaos, hoisting Sir Hodgson into the air by the hilt of his cutlass, the blade impaled cleanly through the man’s abdomen. The once-proud man now hung helplessly, his strength fading, yet still alive enough to plead for mercy, tears streaming down his face in desperation.