The crowd lingered in silence after Alhaji Sanni's shotgun blast echoed down the ruined street. The monster's corpse smoked on the ground.
"You see am?" Sanni's deep voice rolled over the people. "Government don fail una. Police no fit protect una. But me—" he tapped his chest, "—me I go build order. Who wan follow me, go chop. Who no wan—" his eyes narrowed, "—na the monsters go chop una."
Mela's mother pulled him back again, whispering, "That man na devil."But the crowd… they were tired, broken. Some already knelt before him.
Night fell heavy over Lagos. Fires painted the sky orange. Sanni sat in the back of a hijacked SUV, his men carrying guns and machetes, dragging survivors to him.
That was when he felt it.
A whisper in his skull. Cold. Smooth. Ancient.You are strong, but you can be more. Do you want power, Sanni?
He didn't flinch. He only smiled. "Talk well. I dey hear you."
His men didn't notice the shadow at his feet stretching unnaturally long. They only saw his eyes flicker with a strange glow, red for a heartbeat before fading.
Meanwhile, Mela and his family had found a cramped church to hide in. People wept, prayed, and argued in the dark. Babies cried. The air reeked of sweat and fear.
Mela sat against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. His mind buzzed. Not with prayers, but with manga panels. Heroes always stood. Heroes always fought.
But here? He was useless. He couldn't fight monsters. He couldn't even protect Amara."I'm nothing," he whispered.
Amara leaned on his shoulder, trembling. "But you see the light… those runes. That means you're not nothing, Mela."
He wanted to believe her. But right now, he had nothing but fear.
Elsewhere, other awakenings continued:
In Cairo, a gang of teenagers discovered they could breathe fire — but instead of saving people, they burned rivals alive.
In Berlin, a policewoman found she could harden her skin like steel. She stood firm against a beast, giving people their first win.
In Rio de Janeiro, a boy became able to command stray dogs — and led them in tearing apart a looter.
Good and evil were splitting fast. Powers didn't make heroes; choices did.
Back in Lagos, Alhaji Sanni walked alone. He dismissed his men, claiming he needed air. He stood on the ruins of a flyover bridge, looking at the city burn.
The whisper came again. This time, the air shimmered and a shape emerged beside him: a horned shadow with glowing eyes, no taller than a man but crawling with malice.
"I am called Esu's Broken Child," it hissed. "Not god… not demon… something in between. The old gods cast me aside. But you… you could be my vessel."
Sanni grinned, teeth white against the firelight. "Vessel? No. Partner."
The shadow paused. Then it smiled back.And in the night, thunder rolled, though no storm brewed