The night air was thick with smoke and tension. After the chaos with the Lieutenant and the soldiers, Mela's mother insisted they move. The military wasn't trustworthy anymore — not when survival meant sacrificing others.
They gathered what little supplies they had scavenged: a half-empty bag of garri, two bottles of pure water, and a rusty cutlass someone had dropped in the confusion. The family — Mela, his younger sister Amara, and their mother — left the relative "safety" of the barracks and slipped into the broken cityscape.
Everywhere felt haunted now. Burnt cars on the road. Shops smashed open. The silence of a once-bustling Lagos neighborhood now ruled by strange noises — whispers of movement, the growl of things that weren't dogs anymore.
Amara clutched her mother's arm. "Mummy… we go survive like this?"
Her mother's face was hard, but Mela saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. She had used her powers before — the light that burst out of her when danger pressed too close — but every time, she looked shocked at herself, as if she didn't believe it could happen.
"We will," she said firmly. "We just need to stay together."
Mela carried the cutlass, gripping it tighter than necessary. His heart still raced from the image of the Lieutenant pointing a gun at him. He thought of how close death had been — and how fragile their lives were.
"Anime logic, Mela," he muttered under his breath. "Stay calm. Survive. Grind."
They didn't notice it at first. It was Amara who pointed.
"Oya look! That place dey shine."
Ahead, on the cracked asphalt of the expressway, a glowing fissure pulsed like a heartbeat. A tear in reality, no bigger than a bus stop. Strange purple mist seeped out, and faint growls echoed from within.
Mela froze. His brain screamed the word instantly.
"A dungeon…"
His mother frowned. "What is that?"
Mela swallowed. "In anime and games… places like that, they spawn monsters. Dangerous. But… also where people get stronger. They drop items, weapons, maybe food."
Amara's eyes widened. "Like… like Treasure?"
"Treasure and death together," Mela said grimly.
They debated. His mother wanted to avoid it. "We can't risk it. You children—"
"Mummy," Mela interrupted, his voice firmer than usual. "If we just keep running, hunger go kill us before monster do. We need supplies. If this place works like the shows… it's our chance."
She stared at him, torn. But the garri in her bag wouldn't last a day. And even she could feel the pulse of strange power inside the fissure.
Finally, she nodded. "We enter. But we move careful. No noise. If anything too big come, we run."
Mela felt a rush of adrenaline. Part fear, part excitement. This was the beginning of their grind.
Crossing into the dungeon was like stepping into another world.
The air was damp, the sky hidden under a cavern roof that glowed faintly like moonlight. Twisted trees with glowing roots spread out, and in the distance, faint howls echoed.
Mela gripped the cutlass tighter. His heart pounded in his chest.
Amara whispered, "This place no dey look like Lagos again…"
"Dungeon," Mela said simply.
Then they heard it — rustling. Something crawled from behind the trees. A creature hunched forward, its body like a giant rat but its eyes glowing red. Its teeth were long, dripping saliva that hissed when it touched the ground.
Mela's stomach twisted. This wasn't anime anymore. This was real.
The rat screeched and charged.
"Run!" his mother shouted, pushing Amara back. But Mela didn't move. He raised the cutlass with shaking hands.
This is it. My first fight. If I don't face it now, I'll never survive this world.
The rat lunged. Instinct screamed at him to dodge, and he barely rolled aside as claws raked the ground where he'd been standing. He swung the cutlass wildly, missing the first time.
"Mela!" Amara cried out.
The rat turned on him again, too fast. Its claws scraped his arm, tearing skin. Pain flared hot. Mela screamed — then slashed back desperately.
This time, the blade connected, sinking into the rat's side. Black blood sprayed. The creature screeched and staggered, but it wasn't dead.
"Mela, back!" his mother shouted, raising her hands. For a brief moment, her body glowed again — a burst of radiant light that flared like the sun. The rat shrieked, blinded, and Mela didn't waste the chance.
He screamed and swung with all his strength. The cutlass cleaved into its neck, deeper, until the creature collapsed, twitching once before lying still.
Mela panted, his arms trembling. His first kill. Not anime. Not a game. Real. Bloody. Terrifying.
But as the rat dissolved into black mist, something shimmered where its body had been.
A small leather pouch. Inside, a few jagged fangs and… dried meat.
Amara gasped. "It really drop something!"
Mela stared at the pouch, then at his bloody cutlass. His chest heaved. He wanted to vomit, but instead, he laughed shakily.
"Yeah… it works. It really works."
They didn't dive deep into the dungeon — Mela was too injured, and fear gnawed at all of them. But they fought two more rats before retreating. His mother's light saved them twice; each time she used it, she looked drained, confused why her body could even do such a thing.
When they finally stumbled out into the night air again, they collapsed on the roadside, exhausted but alive.
Amara munched on the dried meat, smiling weakly. "Dungeon food taste like normal meat."
Mela chuckled. "If it keeps us alive, na jollof rice."
His mother didn't laugh. She looked up at the night sky, her face grim. "This world… it's changing too fast. Gods, monsters, dungeons… we can't rely on anybody again. Not government. Not soldiers. Just us."
Mela's laughter died. He knew she was right.
He thought of the President's broadcast he'd overheard before they left — the stuttering promises, the endless "We are in control" speeches that fooled no one. Nigeria's leaders didn't even control their own security, much less the apocalypse.
If they wanted to live, they had to grow. Alone.
Mela stared at his bloodstained cutlass. The pain in his arm throbbed, but so did something else — a flicker of determination.
"This is just level one," he whispered.
That night, as they camped in the ruins of an abandoned shop, Mela couldn't sleep. He stared out at the stars.
Something was wrong with them. The constellations shifted faintly, like they weren't fixed anymore. And for a moment, he swore he saw an eye — vast and unblinking — staring back at him from the heavens.
He blinked, and it was gone.
He shivered, pulling his cutlass closer. "Anime never prepare me for that."
In the distance, fain
t drums beat again — not from humans. The same drums Sanni had heard.
And Mela realized the world wasn't just breaking.
It was being watched.