The barrier shimmered faintly, like soap bubbles catching weak sunlight, as machetes slammed against it again and again. Each strike made the glow flicker. Mela could hear his mum's ragged breathing—she was pouring everything into keeping it up, but she didn't even understand how she was doing it.
"Amara, stay behind me," Mela whispered, holding his small knife like it was Excalibur. His palms were sweaty. His body shook, but he tried to look calm—for his sister.
Amara's eyes were wide. "Mela… are we going to die?"
He swallowed hard. "Not if I can help it." He thought of every shōnen manga he had ever read, every underdog protagonist who had nothing but guts. But this wasn't drawn panels—it was Lagos, and blood was real.
Around them, the warehouse had turned into a madhouse. Survivors clawed at each other for crumbs of food. A man's head was smashed against a wall for a half-eaten Agege bread. The fire-girl sobbed as Eze's boys dragged her by her hair, ignoring her screams.
"Abeg leave me!" she cried in Yoruba. ("Please leave me!")
Eze only smirked. "You get power. You belong to me now."
One of the gang boys noticed the barrier and shouted, "Oga! That woman dey hide juju o!" (Boss, that woman is using magic!)
The gang charged harder. Each blow made the barrier spark like breaking glass.
Mela's mum groaned, clutching her chest. "I can't… hold it much longer…"
And then, with a deafening crash, the warehouse doors buckled.
At first, everyone thought it was the gang. But the sound that followed wasn't human—it was a guttural, monstrous roar.
The stench hit first: rot, metal, and burning. Then the monsters poured in.
They weren't just the crawling things Mela had glimpsed before. These ones were bigger—hulking, insect-like, with jagged claws and glowing green eyes.
"JESUS!" someone screamed as one leapt onto a man and tore him in half.
Panic exploded. People ran in every direction, trampling each other. Eze's men tried to fight back, but one was decapitated instantly, blood spraying.
Mela's mind went blank. Then, anime knowledge clicked. Monsters invading a confined space… this is a dungeon raid. The weak get culled first.
The barrier around his family flickered again. His mum collapsed to her knees, coughing blood, the glow fading.
"No, no, no!" Mela shouted. He dropped his knife and tried to hold the barrier with his bare hands, as if his willpower could keep it alive.
But the monster closest to them lunged, claws raised.
At that moment, something deep inside Mela snapped.
He wasn't ready. He didn't feel chosen. But his chest burned, and a strange weight spread through his arms, his bones creaking like metal being forged. His vision blurred—and then cleared, sharper than ever.
The monster's claw came down.
Mela raised his bare arm instinctively.
CLANG!
The claw hit not flesh—but iron. Mela gasped, staring in disbelief. His arm had transformed, dark and metallic, glowing faintly with red lines like molten ore.
The impact threw him back, but he didn't break.
His mum's eyes widened. "Mela…?"
Mela staggered to his feet, his iron-coated arm trembling. It wasn't full armor, just patches—iron forming over his skin like incomplete plating. It hurt. Every movement felt like fire under his veins.
But he was alive.
The monster screeched, leaping again. This time, Mela grabbed his dropped knife, the iron coating spreading just enough to reinforce his grip. He swung wildly.
SLASH!
The blade cut deeper than it should have, slicing into the creature's neck. It shrieked, black blood spraying across the concrete.
For a heartbeat, the warehouse froze—survivors, gangs, even monsters staring at the boy with half-metal skin.
Mela's chest heaved. His arm throbbed. His body screamed in pain.
"This… this isn't anime," he muttered, blood dripping down his cheek. "This is worse. But if this is the power Ogun gave me… then I'll use it."
Eze's greedy smile returned, even in the chaos. "So the small boy get power too. Interesting. Very… interesting."
Before Mela could respond, another monster burst through the broken wall, scattering survivors like flies. Its claws tore into the crates, spilling supplies—sachets of water, packs of Indomie, even strange glowing stones that shimmered unnaturally.
Drops.
Like in games.
Mela's eyes widened. So that's how it works… monsters drop items.
But before he could move toward them, the hulking demon-touched gang lieutenant stepped in, shadows curling around his fists.
"Forget food," the lieutenant growled, eyes locked on Mela. "Boss, let me kill him."
The air went cold. Everyone felt it—the beginning of something terrifying.
And far away, in Lagos, Sanni laughed as black veins crawled up his arm, the demon's whisper filling his skull.
"Soon… my chosen. Soon you will meet the boy. And one of you will die screaming."