The alley smelled of sweat, smoke, and blood. Mela's mother was panting hard, holding Amara so tight the girl winced. People were still running past the mouth of the alley, trampling one another in blind terror.
Mela's legs trembled. He wanted to collapse, but the world didn't care.
A boy no older than sixteen sprinted past, only to stumble. Before he could rise, the creature's claw punched through his back, lifting him like a rag doll. His scream cut off in a wet gargle.
Mela's stomach turned. The boy had been alive one second, gone the next. That was Lagos now.
The danfo conductor who had been shouting prayers earlier appeared, dragging a little girl by the wrist. His face was soaked with tears.
"Abeg! Anybody, help me!" he cried. His voice cracked like broken glass. The girl's leg was bent the wrong way, blood soaking her leggings.
But no one stopped. Everyone just kept running. Some shoved him aside. Some didn't even look. Survival meant selfishness now.
Mela clenched his fists. He wanted to help. He wanted to scream at them. But his mother's grip on his shirt held him back.
"We can't!" she hissed, voice shaking. "We will die too."
And deep down, Mela knew she was right.
Then the air changed.
The creature at the end of the street froze, its faceless head tilting. It sensed something.
The danfo conductor dropped to his knees, clutching the little girl. His eyes rolled back. His body convulsed like he was being electrocuted.
Mela's breath caught. "What's happening to him?"
The man screamed — and light burst from his chest. Not holy light, not some anime glow. Just a faint yellow shimmer, like a dying bulb trying to stay alive.
He staggered up. His hands, once shaking, now buzzed faintly. Sparks jumped between his fingers. His tears still flowed, but his eyes had changed.
"I… I can fight." His voice was hoarse.
He didn't look like a hero. He looked like a man with nothing left to lose.
The monster screeched and lunged. The man raised his hands. Electricity crackled weakly. The first blast missed, fizzing out against the wall. The second hit — barely. The creature recoiled, smoke rising from its chest.
The people who had run stopped. They stared. For the first time, someone wasn't just running.
The danfo conductor roared, hurling himself at the beast with another weak bolt. It wasn't strong enough to kill. But it was enough to stall. Enough to show the crowd it could bleed.
The world shifted again.
Paris, France — A café burned while people screamed in the streets. A woman in a hijab clutched her child, eyes wide as shadows with wings swept overhead. Suddenly, her palm glowed, turning to solid stone. She screamed in terror, not triumph, as the cobblestones beneath her feet cracked under her touch.
Seoul, South Korea — A university student trapped under rubble coughed blood. His friends pulled desperately at the concrete, but his body began to glow faint blue. The stone above him cracked and lifted slightly, buying him air. Not power, just survival.
Mexico City, Mexico — A homeless man curled in a tunnel while a monster prowled the street above. His body shivered, then melted into shadow. He vanished into the wall, too shocked to realize he'd survived by becoming less than human.
Ordinary people. Nobody trained. Nobody ready. Just humans waking up to horror with flickers of power they barely understood.
Back in Lagos, the danfo conductor screamed again, lightning burning his skin as much as the monster. He wasn't winning. He was burning out.
Mela stared. His chest throbbed. His eyes caught the runes again, swirling brighter this time.
"Why can I see this?" he whispered.
Amara turned, her face pale.
"Because you're next."