The next morning, Lagos looked normal.
Normal in Lagos meant traffic that turned Third Mainland Bridge into a car park, radio stations blasting Afrobeats, and mothers yelling at their children to hurry to school.
For Mela, it also meant pretending last night's dream never happened.
He stuffed his manhwa into his bag Solo Leveling, Tower of God, even Attack on Titan and slipped out before his mom could nag about chores. The books weren't allowed in school, but to him, they were survival manuals.
Because deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that the world was shifting.
At school, the rumors began.
"Did you hear?" A boy whispered during break. "Earthquake in Japan again. Fifth one this month."
Another added, "They say in Egypt, the sky turned red. Blood rain."
Mela's ears perked. He remembered Amara's muttering. Ra. The sky will break.
"Na lie!" someone scoffed. "Abeg, abeg. All these CNN lies."
But Mela couldn't ignore it. His manhwa-trained brain was piecing patterns. Quakes in Asia. Blood rain in Africa. Dreams of gods.
He leaned on the desk, whispering to himself.
"If this was a story… this is the prologue to the apocalypse."
His seatmate frowned. "What did you say?"
"Nothing. Just anime talk."
That evening, at home, Amara refused to eat. She sat by the window, staring at the sky as the sun dipped behind smoky rooftops.
"They're moving closer," she murmured.
"Who?" Mela asked.
She turned to him, her small face pale. "The ones fighting."
Before he could press, the TV in the living room blared. His mother had left it on the news channel.
"…unconfirmed reports of strange lights above the Atlantic Ocean. Fishermen near Badagry claim they saw a giant figure with wings of fire…"
Mela's spoon clattered into his plate. His mother clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. Everything is juju to these people."
But Amara whispered, almost too soft to hear
"Not juju. War."
That night, the dream came again. But this time, it wasn't just a dream.
Mela was standing on the same ash plain, but now the sky tore open, showing flashes of cities across the world.
Tokyo—shaken by quakes.
Cairo—bathed in red sky.
New York—shadowed by a storm shaped like a hammer.
And Lagos. Lagos trembled under a falcon's cry.
The gods were clashing.
Ogun's hammer met Zeus's lightning. Sparks rained down like meteors. Ra's falcon-shadow screeched, and the world shook.
Then, a voice cut through the chaos, echoing directly in Mela's head:
"Seventeen years. That is enough. Stand, child of Nigeria."
The ground cracked beneath him, glowing with molten light.
Mela screamed
And woke up in his room.
Only it wasn't just a dream this time.
Because outside, Lagos was screaming too.