Kangin Bauta Book Complete by Mansur Usman Sufi complete Hausawa Novels hausa document - Mansur Usman Sufi

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THE SHACKLES OF SLAVERY (Kangin Bauta)

AN EPIC TALE OF WAR, SORCERY, AND VENGEANCE
WRITTEN BY: MANSUR USMAN SUFI
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Chapter 1: The Three Champions and the Enchanted Forest

They were three exceptionally handsome young men, possessing the raw, intimidating physical strength of elite warriors. Their presence alone carried a profound aura of authority and terror.

The First Warrior (Hilwas): He bore two massive, masterfully crafted twin swords strapped securely across his broad back. Physically, he possessed a much thicker, more heavily muscled build than his companions.
The Second Warrior (Sharwas): He carried a beautifully designed, striking recurve bow and a quiver of arrows. His physique was highly defined, ripped, and tightly muscled. A single glance at his posture revealed that he possessed the ultimate athletic mold of a legendary archer.
The Third Warrior (Kahzib): He was armed with a unique, long, double-headed spear. The lethal weapon featured a broad upper blade that tapered into two razor-sharp, piercing prongs at the tip.
Nothing was more striking about these three youths than their flawless coordination. They wore identical, heavily armored battle gear and rode atop matching, powerful red stallions.
The three young champions rode cautiously through a bizarre, ancient forest dominated by towering trees, winding streams, and deep, treacherous ravines. The entire atmosphere of this wilderness was fundamentally different from any forest human eyes had ever beheld. Even the insects and birds lurking within the canopy inspired pure dread. Occasionally, giant birds would fly overhead, bearing the distinct, unsettling faces of human beings. Even the bark and leaves of the ancient trees continuously shifted from one eerie color to another.
It was a wilderness possessing a suffocating spiritual gravity; any ordinary warrior who stumbled into its depths would be instantly paralyzed by sheer terror. Yet, as these three elite youths advanced, not a single trace of fear showed on their faces.
Chapter 2: The Monolithic Fortress of Sorcery
After riding for exactly one hour and thirty seconds, they finally spotted a structure in the distance. It was a massive, isolated fortress standing entirely alone in the heart of the deadly wilderness.
The sight sent a wave of profound astonishment through their minds. They wondered how anyone could have built such a magnificent, masterfully engineered citadel in the center of an untamed, supernatural forest. Unable to answer their own silent questions, they spurred their stallions forward.
Upon arriving at the perimeter, they discovered that the fortress was truly colossal—easily the size of an entire fortified city. The monolithic walls were constructed from giant, glowing volcanic firestones, the likes of which had never been seen by mortal eyes. The towering ramparts stretched high into the sky. At the front stood a single, massive iron-reinforced gate. It was so thick and heavy that fifty of the strongest men on earth working together would fail to budge it by an inch.
The three young men halted their horses, gathering in a tight circle as they spent forty seconds analyzing the impenetrable entrance in absolute silence.
Finally, the twin-sword master, Hilwas, cleared his throat and broke the silence. "My brothers, what is our next move? We have officially arrived at the domain of the High Sorcerer, Kimraz. I feel it deep within my soul that our raw physical prowess and combat skills will be entirely useless here. We must rely strictly on our tactical intellect and unique strategic arts if we hope to survive."
Hearing this, the archer, Sharwas, quickly interverted and caught his brother's breath. "My advice is that we immediately brainstorm a way to breach this gate. As the wise elders say: 'To let an opportunity cool down is to invite another to steal your destiny,' and 'Strike the iron while it is fiercely hot.'"
Throughout this tactical debate, Kahzib, the spear master, remained entirely silent. His face was heavily clouded with deep sorrow and intense anxiety. Finally, clearing his throat, Kahzib spoke up. "My friends, this gate is the least of my worries. Have you both forgotten that the very lives of our parents remain in the ruthless hands of King Shardasu? Who among you has any absolute guarantee that King Shardasu will honor his royal oath once we deliver the mystical artifacts he desires? Who is to say he will actually grant our parents their freedom?"
Kahzib paused, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why aren't we thinking ahead? Why aren't we focusing on finding a permanent cure out here to heal the horrific physical afflictions torturing our parents?"
The moment Kahzib uttered these heavy words, the fierce spirits of Hilwas and Sharwas instantly deflated. A cold wave of sorrow washed over them, and their minds sank deep into a vast ocean of painful memories.
Chapter 3: The Tyranny of Baitul-Na'im
These three young champions hailed from a magnificent, sprawling kingdom known across the continents as Baitul-Na'im. The tragic history that had forced them away from their homeland was a dark one.
Baitul-Na'im was a highly prosperous empire, world-renowned for its vast agricultural wealth and booming commerce. It was a land populated by elite merchant tycoons and wealthy farmers, protected by a legion of fierce, battle-tested warriors. The monarch who sat upon the throne of this empire was named King Shardasu ibn Furais.
King Shardasu was a legendary warlord, famous for decimating enemy armies on the battlefield. However, he was also a man entirely consumed by worldly greed and material lust. Above all else, he was a tyrant of unprecedented cruelty.
Every year, the agricultural lands of Baitul-Na'im produced a harvest so massive that royal seers and astrologers calculated it could successfully feed all the nations across the continent for two consecutive years. Yet, out of pure malice and corporate greed, the king chose to hoard the food, exporting it exclusively to powerful foreign empires on distant continents to maximize his personal wealth. He implemented a brutal tax system: no matter how much a farmer produced, the harvest was divided into five parts (5/5). The farmer was allowed to keep only one single share (1/5), while the remaining four shares (4/5) were forcibly seized by King Shardasu. Even the livestock suffered under this decree; a massive percentage of every herd was confiscated annually. Through this ruthless exploitation, he became the wealthiest ruler across the known continents.
The parents of these three young warriors were originally free citizens of a sovereign nation, but King Shardasu had completely leveled their homeland in a brutal war of conquest, dragging their people back to Baitul-Na'im as prisoners of war and forcing them into hard labor as royal slaves. In their youth, no warriors in their native land could match the strength of these three fathers. However, the horrific physical disabilities they now suffered were a direct result of the agonizing abuse they endured under King Shardasu's reign.
The Three Fathers and Their Tragic Fates
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* **The Story of Rukaisu (Father of Hilwas):** He was a legendary blacksmith tasked with forging elite weapons, royal chalices, and ornaments using pure gold and precious gems. In his entire career, Rukaisu had never once failed to fulfill a design exactly as requested. However, one fateful day, a minor defect was found in a set of ceremonial cups. Out of fury, King Shardasu ordered his guards to pierce Rukaisu's eyes with flaming, red-hot arrows. He was plunged into total blindness and thrown into the deep dungeons. * **The Story of Rauzil (Father of Sharwas):** He was assigned to the grueling task of preparing the king's royal bathwater. One afternoon, Rauzil finished boiling the water in the grand bathhouse, perfectly blending it with expensive perfumes and aromatic soaps. He instructed the palace maids to deliver the bath to the royal chambers. Moments later, King Shardasu emerged from the bathroom, his face twisted in a murderous rage. Without a word, he grabbed Rauzil by his hair, dragging him violently across the stone floor into his private chambers, where a massive cauldron filled with a thick, boiling black liquid was bubbling. The king grabbed Rauzil's hands and feet, plunging them directly into the boiling cauldron. Rauzil screamed in absolute agony until his voice failed, tears streaming from his eyes as the skin and flesh melted off his bones. With zero mercy, the king tossed his mangled body into a corner. Rauzil barely survived, permanently crippled and forced to crawl on his stomach in the dirt of the prison yard. * **The Story of Hashim (Father of Kahzib):** For a minor, trivial offense against the royal court, King Shardasu ordered his guards to pin Hashim down. The tyrant then personally poured glowing, burning embers of firewood directly into Hashim's mouth, forcing him to swallow the red-hot coals. The intense heat completely scorched his internal organs and destroyed his eardrums, leaving him permanently deaf and mute. ## Chapter 4: The Birth of the Gladiators The grieving wives of these three tortured heroes spent their days and nights weeping, mourning the horrific fates of their husbands. Forty days after these brutal punishments were executed, King Shardasu sat in his magnificent royal palace. The grand court was massive in scale, opulently decorated with every luxury and pleasure imaginable. Everywhere one looked, slaves and palace maids were busy catering to the court's whims. In every corner stood elite guards clad in heavy, terrifying armor, their hands gripping lethal weapons to ensure maximum security. King Shardasu sat upon a magnificent throne crafted from flawless white pearls and diamonds. He wore a short-sleeved, royal green silk robe. In his left hand, he held a legendary staff reserved for imperial monarchs, and a crown of pure gold sat upon his head. His feet were adorned with black leather boots embellished with exotic peacock feathers. As the affairs of the state were being conducted, a heavily armored scout rushed into the palace. Stopping exactly ten paces away from the pearl throne, he threw himself onto the floor in a deep bow. Lifting his head, the scout cleared his throat and announced, "Oh, ruler of the world! Highly critical news has just reached me from the slave quarters. The wives of Hashim, Rauzil, and Rukaisu have all successfully given birth, and every single one of them has brought forth a healthy baby boy!" Upon hearing this news from the lips of the scout, **Durshuf**, a massive, triumphant smile spread across King Shardasu's face, as if he had just been handed the keys to the entire universe. He stood up abruptly from his throne, his expression instantly shifting back into an icy, calculated gaze. He looked down at Durshuf and barked, "Lead the way immediately. Take me to where these women are kept!" The scout Durshuf immediately moved ahead to guide the king, while the elite royal guard formed an impenetrable perimeter around them. Outside the palace gates, a grand horse-drawn chariot awaited. The king mounted the chariot, and they moved swiftly through the capital. After a precise journey of thirty-four seconds, the chariot arrived at a restricted sector of the palace grounds reserved exclusively for slaves. This massive compound contained over thirty specialized rooms designed specifically to house pregnant slave women. As the chariot came to a halt, another guard rushed forward to lower the golden stepping stool. King Shardasu stepped down majestically as the local supervisor prostrated himself, trembling. "Oh, master of the world! Please, step inside." King Shardasu walked into the quarters, narrowing his eyes as he spent several minutes analyzing the three newborn infants cradled in their mothers' arms. Turning a stern, heavy gaze toward the chief overseer of the slave house—a massive, muscular brute—the king commanded in a harsh, echoing voice: "Listen to me carefully, **Larbus**! Know that I did not come to this compound for a casual visit; I came to give you an absolute royal decree. You are to personally ensure the maximum health, nutrition, and survival of these three women and their male infants. Treat them with the utmost care. Mark my words, Larbus: in the near future, these three boys will become the ultimate weapons of my empire!" Finishing his decree, King Shardasu turned on his heel and marched toward the exit, his elite guards tracking his every step. He mounted his chariot and returned to the grand palace court. From that historic day onward, the families of Hashim, Rukaisu, and Rauzil were placed under a specialized, highly privileged care system. Yet, despite their improved conditions, the mothers never spent a single day without weeping for their agonizingly separated husbands. As the old proverb says: *“Slowly and steadily does not stop the arrival of time; it only delays the journey.”* Ten years flew by, and the infants grew into strong, intelligent boys. The moment they hit their tenth year, King Shardasu issued an absolute order to his Supreme General, **Hatyal**, to drag the boys away and enroll them in the kingdom's most brutal military academy. Under this intense, grueling regime, Hilwas, Sharwas, and Kahzib mastered every deadly martial art and tactical combat style known to man. However, the moment the boys were transferred to the military barracks, the special privileges hidden away from their mothers were instantly revoked. The families were thrown back into **THE SHACKLES OF SLAVERY**, subjected to severe neglect and starvation, often forced to beg just to secure a single scrap of food to survive. ## Chapter 5: The Royal Decree and Hidden Agendas Deep within the imperial palace stood a magnificent royal chamber, opulently adorned with rare decorations and the finest luxuries wealth could buy. The breathtaking beauty of the room was highlighted by plush, white silk cushions lining every corner, lit by beautifully crafted silver lanterns that cast a warm glow across the stone walls. Looking toward the western wing of the chamber, sitting upon elegant chairs, was a massive, terrifying warlord. He was dressed in full, heavy battle armor that inspired instant dread. A single glance at his deeply scarred, monstrously deformed face would compel any normal man to avert his eyes in fear. Sitting directly opposite him on a magnificent, elevated throne was a man of extraordinary physical beauty, elegance, and commanding majesty. He was dressed in flawless royal robes, radiating the supreme confidence of a monarch who possessed everything the world could offer. This was King Shardasu. A heavy silence lingered between the two powerful men. Finally, King Shardasu shattered the silence, clearing his throat and addressing his commander. "My loyal General, the pillar of Baitul-Na'im! Know that I have summoned you to my private chambers for one critical reason: to remind you that **THE GRAND TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS** is rapidly approaching! We have exactly thirty days left!" The king leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "I want the military preparations for this tournament to begin immediately. Be advised that this year, the absolute monarchs of four major continents will be personally attending this event. Furthermore, I have officially altered the structure of the tournament into three distinct, elite categories: **The Art of the Sword, The Mastery of the Bow and Arrow, and The Duel of Raw Physical Strength!**" Finishing his speech, King Shardasu reached deep into his silk robe, pulled out a long, tightly rolled parchment, and handed it to the Supreme General. With deep reverence, the General accepted the document with both hands. He unrolled the parchment and began reading the official list of royal contestants inscribed within. As his eyes scanned the text, his heart instantly turned pitch-black with fury and despair. The cause of his hidden rage was a single name written at the top of the list: **Prince Kinzaru**. The General and Prince Kinzaru shared a lethal, long-standing blood feud. The General passionately loved his younger sister, **Princess Lashmira**. A bitter, toxic rivalry existed between Princess Lashmira and Prince Kinzaru, as both royal siblings were desperately scheming to assassinate or outmaneuver one another to inherit King Shardasu's throne. As the General sank deep into these dark, anxious thoughts, he noticed additional writing inscribed at the bottom of the parchment. Flipping the paper over, a sudden wave of ecstatic joy washed over him. Right there, explicitly listed as official combatants, were the names of: **Princess Lashmira, the slave Hilwas, the slave Sharwas, and the slave Kahzib!** Overwhelmed by relief and malicious excitement, an involuntary smile escaped the General's lips. However, catching King Shardasu's sharp eyes tracking his expression, the General quickly lowered his head, feigning absolute submission. King Shardasu looked at his General with a piercing gaze that indicated he fully understood the hidden meaning behind that smile. Clearing his throat, the king declared in an authoritative voice: "My General, go forth immediately and notify every single warrior whose name is inscribed upon this parchment. Let them know they have been chosen as the realm's official champions. Furthermore, you are to enforce maximum security protocols across the entire empire from this very second until the conclusion of the games. This is no ordinary event; this is a highly specialized tournament of destiny!" The moment he finished speaking, King Shardasu stood up abruptly from his throne. Walking with an aura of supreme arrogance and dark majesty, he moved toward a small, hidden door within the chamber. As he approached the exit, a magical anomaly occurred: forty phantom, highly armored sorcery warriors materialized out of thin air, forming a protective vanguard around him. They escorted the tyrant through the hidden door, deep into the heart of the inner imperial palace. King Shardasu had delved so deeply into the dark arts of black magic and forbidden sorcery that attempting to cross him required an almost suicidal level of bravery. Left alone in the chamber, the Supreme General stood up and exited the room, his mind swirling with a million chaotic strategies and lethal plots for the upcoming games. ## Chapter 6: Midnight Conspiracies and Secret Affections In a completely separate sector of the capital, inside a luxurious foreign embassy, **King Barsus** lay resting on a lavish bed. He was dressed in an expensive tunic and lightweight trousers, the signature attire of billionaire foreign merchants. Suddenly, a rhythmic, subtle knock echoed from his chamber door. He stood up instantly, walked across the room, and pulled the door open. Standing on the threshold was a remarkably handsome young man dressed in shimmering silver battle armor. Their eyes locked. King Barsus let out a cold, sinister smile. The young warrior immediately dropped to one knee, offering a deep bow of allegiance. Clearing his throat, he spoke in a highly respectful, hushed whisper: "My grand ruler! Our elite infiltration units have successfully arrived in the capital alongside the supreme leader of the bandit syndicates of this continent. They have already successfully blended into the city shadows and begun mapping out the layout. They are currently establishing positions surrounding the private estates of King Shardasu and Princess Lashmira." Hearing this critical update from the lips of the young warrior, King Barsus burst into a wicked, booming laughter. Yet, in a split second, his face contorted into a monstrous glare, as cold as a written message of death. In a harsh, ruthless voice, King Barsus promised, "Excellent! You have done well, **Huzmal**. I give you my absolute word of honor: the very second my grand ambition is realized, and I witness the total destruction of King Shardasu and Princess Lashmira tomorrow, I will ascend the throne of this empire, and you will officially be turbaned as my Grand Vizier!" Hearing this magnificent promise of power, Huzmal threw himself back onto the floor, offering a profound bow of gratitude. He stood up, turned around, and slipped out of the chambers, his heart bursting with ambitious joy. The moment Huzmal vanished into the corridor, King Barsus slammed the heavy wooden door shut, sliding the bolts securely into place. He extinguished the silver lanterns, plunging the room into absolute darkness, and lay back down on his bed to rest before the bloody events of the coming dawn. Meanwhile, out in the moonlit palace gardens, **Princess Lashmira** found herself face-to-face with a mysterious cloaked rider who had breached her perimeter. When the rider pulled down her veil, revealing her face, Lashmira gasped in absolute shock. The person standing before her was none other than **Princess Shuraima**, the beautiful daughter of the foreign monarch, **King Husubul Dinar**! A tense, heavy silence stretched between Princess Lashmira and Princess Shuraima as they stared at one another under the moonlight. Before Lashmira could fully process the intrusion or call her guards, Shuraima stepped forward gracefully. She gently grabbed Lashmira's hand, lifting her up. Pulling a soft silk cloth from her own royal garments, Shuraima tenderly wiped away a trace of blood that had trickled from Lashmira’s lip during her secret training session, smoothing out her ruffled clothes. Shuraima spoke in an incredibly soft, melodic voice. "Oh, Lashmira, I beg for your royal forgiveness for causing you any distress or drawing blood tonight. I swear to you, I did not track you down to humiliate or challenge your high status. I did this strictly to protect your heart from the dangerous traditions governing this kingdom." Shuraima leaned closer, her eyes filled with empathy. "You must know that I am fully aware of what drove you out into the dark wilderness tonight. Your heart is being tortured by a consuming, intense passion for the slave warrior, **Hilwas**. It is an affection that has completely taken over your soul." Shuraima let out a soft sigh. "Our predicaments are identical, my sister. Do you know what forced me out of my secure embassy quarters at this dangerous midnight hour? My own heart has been completely captivated by the magnificent charm and bravery of the slave warrior, **Kahzib**! I have fallen into a deep, inescapable love with him—a profound affection I have never felt for any mortal man in my entire life." Shuraima smiled warmly, gripping Lashmira’s hands tightly. "As you can see, our destinies are intertwined. We must form a secret alliance right now. We must work together to bypass the guards and unite with our lovers before the sun rises and the tournament begins!" Hearing this shocking, direct confession from Princess Shuraima, the icy exterior of Princess Lashmira completely melted. A bright, genuine smile illuminated her face. Looking at Shuraima with newfound warmth, she replied: "My dear Shuraima, know that I am entirely convinced by your words and accept your alliance. Out of all the powerful monarchs who have arrived to witness this Grand Tournament, I know for a fact that your father is the only ruler who harbors no evil intentions or treacherous plots against my father and me. However, before we take another step into the shadows, I need you to answer two critical questions:" Lashmira narrowed her eyes playfully. "First, are you absolutely certain that the slave Kahzib actually returns your feelings and will accept your love? And my final question is... where on earth did you manage to procure an exact replica of the highly restricted royal stealth armor that I am currently wearing?" Upon hearing these sharp questions, Princess Shuraima let out a soft, beautiful chuckle. She looked Lashmira straight in the eyes, adjusting her smooth, melodic voice as she took a deep, elegant breath and replied: "Regarding your first question, Lashmira... know this: although the slave Kahzib has not yet spoken a single word of love to me, I have read the unmistakable signs written across his face. The very second our eyes locked across the crowded arena during the opening ceremony of the tournament, his soul spoke to mine..."