The warehouse exploded into madness.
Flames licked the ceiling as the terrified girl's hands flared uncontrollably. The man with shadow-snakes laughed like a madman, his voice layered with something inhuman.
"Ọ ga-esi unu ike!" he roared in Igbo ("I will drain your strength!"). His shadows lashed out, grabbing a boy by the leg and yanking him down. The boy screamed, kicking wildly until another survivor hacked at the shadows with a rusty cutlass.
Mela dragged Amara behind a stack of crates, their mum right behind them. His heart was hammering. This wasn't anime anymore—this was raw, bloody survival.
Eze moved like a king in the chaos, barking orders. "Collect their food! Grab that girl with fire! Anybody wey no obey, cut dem down!"
His boys charged, machetes flashing. Survivors scrambled, some fighting back, others dropping to their knees begging for mercy.
Then something happened that made Mela's stomach twist. One of Eze's lieutenants suddenly screamed as his chest glowed. Bones cracked, muscles swelled, and his eyes turned pitch black. He grinned with sharp, jagged teeth.
"Boss," he growled, his voice guttural, "I feel power. I fit crush them all!"
Eze's smile widened. "Good. Kill anybody wey stand against us!"
Mela clenched his fists. Damn it… this is bad. In manhwa, this is where the protagonist either gets saved by a miracle or someone important dies.
He peeked around the crates and saw people being butchered—blood splattering, pleas ignored. A man trying to shield his daughter was cut down like meat in a market.
"Amara, don't look," Mela whispered, covering her eyes.
Their mum pressed her back against the crates, whispering prayers. "Chineke, biko… God please…"
For a moment, Mela thought they were done for—until the shadow-wielding man collapsed, convulsing. His eyes rolled back, and the shadows slithered into his body. He screamed—and then went still. Dead.
The fire girl was dragged by Eze's men, crying, her power sputtering out.
Mela's chest burned with helpless rage. He hated how powerless he was.
But while chaos reigned in the warehouse, far away—in a broken apartment block in the heart of Lagos—Sanni was kneeling in a dark room lit only by candlelight. His lips moved, chanting words that weren't of this world.
On the floor before him was a crude symbol, drawn in blood. His body shook as a voice seeped into his mind, deep and oily.
"Yes… my vessel. You called, and I answered…"
Sanni gasped, eyes wide with ecstasy. "I—I'll do anything. Just give me power. I don't care what happens to the others."
A shadow formed behind him—horned, twisted, eyes burning red. The demon's claw rested on his shoulder.
"Power, you shall have. But your soul… belongs to me."
Sanni grinned. "Take it."
Back in the warehouse, Mela's mum grabbed him suddenly, eyes glowing faintly. A shimmer of light expanded around them—a barrier, translucent but strong. The machete of one of Eze's boys bounced off it with a metallic clang.
Gasps filled the air.
Eze's eyes narrowed. "So… even you dey hide power. Interesting."
Mela stared in shock at his mum, who looked just as surprised. "I… I don't know how," she whispered.
The barrier flickered, barely holding. Mela realized something—if it broke, they were done for.
And with the demon's whispers growing in Lagos, and Eze tightening his grip on the survivors, Mela knew this was just the beginning.