The night Lagos changed forever, nobody believed it at first.
It started with thunder. Loud, rolling, endless. Lagosians were used to storms—rain that flooded streets and turned danfos into boats. But this thunder was different. It didn't roll. It cracked like a whip, again and again, sharp enough to make windows rattle.
Power cut instantly. NEPA disappeared, as if even electricity knew to run. The whole street was swallowed in darkness, except for the glow of generator lights and the cold flicker of phone screens.
From their flat, Mela watched neighbors rush outside.
"Blood of Jesus!" one woman screamed, clutching her wrapper.
"Abomination!" another cried.
Children wailed. Some teenagers laughed nervously, recording videos, shouting, "Content, content!"
And above them, the sky tore open.
A line of lightning split the clouds, but it wasn't ordinary. The bolt hung in place, a glowing crack in the heavens. Through it, Mela saw… figures. Massive. One holding a hammer of fire, the other wreathed in storm clouds.
His stomach dropped. He knew that stance. He had seen it in manhwa panels. A boss fight. Two S-rank monsters clashing, while everyone else was cannon fodder.
But this wasn't a comic. This was Ojuelegba.
"Amara, get away from the window!" their mother yelled, dragging her daughter back. But Amara's eyes were glassy, locked on the sky.
"Ogun… Zeus… Ra…" she whispered. "They're fighting."
Funmilayo slapped her hand against her thigh. "Mela! Go and get Bible! This is end times!"
But Mela wasn't moving. His pulse was hammering. His mind kept screaming: If this was Solo Leveling, I'd get a status window right now. I'd level up. I'd have a chance.
Instead, he only had sweaty palms and a weak stomach.
The first strike hit.
A bolt of lightning speared down, not far from the Third Mainland Bridge. The entire horizon glowed blue-white. A mushroom of smoke rose, followed by screams that carried across the lagoon. Cars crashed. Danfo drivers swerved, honking uselessly.
"Jesus Christ!" someone shouted in the street. Another voice answered, "This is not ordinary thunder o! This one pass thunder!"
Mela's mom was already on her knees, muttering prayers, Bible clutched tight. Neighbors crowded the streets, some wailing, some chanting. Mosques erupted with calls to prayer, louder than ever. Lagos had turned into a chorus of fear.
And still, Mela couldn't look away from the sky.
Because now, he saw wings. A massive falcon-shaped shadow stretched across the clouds, screeching so loud it made his teeth vibrate. Ra.
Another figure slammed down, hammer first. Sparks showered the night. Ogun.
And in between them, Lagos trembled like a toy city.
"Mela."
The voice wasn't from his mom. Or Amara. Or even from the street. It was inside his head again, as heavy as iron grinding against stone.
"Stand. Or burn with them."
He staggered back, clutching his ears.
Amara grabbed his arm, her eyes wild. "It's starting! Brother, it's starting!"
Another lightning strike hit—closer this time. The flat shook, glass shattered, neighbors screamed. Somewhere in the distance, a danfo exploded, its horn blaring endlessly in death.
And Mela thought, bitterly:
If this was Attack on Titan, this is the moment the Colossal Titan kicks down the wall. And I'm one of the extras running, waiting to die.
He clenched his fists. "No… not me."
The ground split under Lagos. Fire burst upward. The gods were no longer shadows in the sky. They were here.