The barrier shimmered, cracks spreading like lightning across glass. The monsters outside hissed louder, their claws pounding harder.
Inside the shop, survivors clung to each other, eyes wide with terror. Some prayed, some screamed, some cursed.
Mela's mother shook, sweat dripping down her face. "I can't… hold it much longer."
Mela's chest burned. He wanted to help. He wanted to do something. But nothing came. Just the ache, the runes pulsing faintly beneath his skin.
Then — a gunshot.
The window exploded inward, and the monster's head burst apart. Black smoke poured from its corpse as it collapsed against the barrier.
Standing outside was a man in ragged jeans, clutching an old hunting rifle. His aim shook, but his eyes burned. He pulled the trigger again, dropping another beast. Each shot rang out like thunder in the chaos.
The monsters wailed, retreating into the night.
For a moment, silence.
Then something strange happened.
From the corpses, faint glowing shards rolled across the floor. One shimmered green, another red, another white. They pulsed softly, almost alive.
"What… is that?" a survivor whispered.
The predator from before lunged forward, snatching one. "Mine!" he snarled. The shard burned against his palm, making him yelp — but he clutched it tighter.
Others followed. Desperate hands grabbed at the drops, shoving, fighting. A man's teeth shattered when another smashed his head against the wall for a glowing red stone.
The world wasn't just broken. It was changing.
Later that night, whispers spread through the survivors.
"This na proof," one man said, eyes wide. "The gods dey punish us. Na only those wey obey go live."
"No," another countered, grinning madly. "These creatures na angels! We suppose worship them. Them dey give gifts."
The group splintered, voices rising in the dark.
And then a tall figure stood, his face painted with soot like war marks."You fools. The world as you know it don end. A new kingdom dey rise. We no go hide like rats. We go embrace them — the shadows, the beasts. We go become more."
He raised a shard above his head."From today, we be The Children of the New Dawn!"
Survivors murmured, some nodding in fear, others joining with shouts.
A cult was born — right there in the ashes of Lagos.
Mela sat with Amara, watching his mother sleep, her palms still glowing faintly. His chest still throbbed with runes. But instead of hope, he felt only dread.
Drops. Cults. Monsters. Humans.The world was spinning out of control.
And somewhere in the smoke-choked city, Alhaji Sanni smiled in the dark, the whisper in his skull growing louder.