The grove's twilight hush shattered like a pot dropped on stone, the Anya Oju gate groaning with a low, resonant thrum that vibrated through Tobi's boots and up his spine, rattling his teeth like loose pebbles in a storm. The air grew thicker, heavy with the metallic tang of heated iron and the sharp bite of ozone, as if the earth itself had been forged anew. Tobi Adeyemi stood rooted, his dreads damp with mist that clung like stubborn ghosts, the glow-threads in them flickering erratically in the fading light of 08:04 PM. The tattoo on his arm the coiling river pattern from the lesser spirit tingled, a phantom itch that whispered of borrowed power, while the Crest in his chest pulsed hotter, a coal stoked by unseen winds. Nneka shifted beside him, her uli tattoos shifting under her skin like embers stirred in ash, her gauntlets humming with a warm, electric buzz that cut through the chill.
"Chai, Tobi, this gate no dey joke," Nneka muttered, her voice a mix of awe and edge, her breath fogging in the cooling air. She flexed her fingers, the gauntlets' wires glinting like veins of silver, and a holographic map flickered to life above her palm, bathing their faces in cool blue light. "My clan always say iron come with bad juju. Exile me for tampering with one like this say I bring curse on the family." Her words hung heavy, laced with the bitter scent of old regrets, her eyes distant as if reliving the banishment's sting, the firelight of her village shrines fading in memory.
Tobi glanced at her, his cool smirk fading into a nod, the weight of her confession settling like dust on his shoulders. "Clan wahala? Sounds familiar. But we no get time for past ghosts look sharp." Before he could say more, the gate birthed a colossus: an Ogu being, mid-tier iron deity, its form a hulking mass of molten metal and jagged spikes, the air around it shimmering with heat that warped the mist into hazy waves. The ground quaked under its stride, each step a thunderous clang that echoed like a blacksmith's hammer on anvil, the scent of scorched earth rising in acrid plumes that burned Tobi's nostrils. Its eyes glowed like forges at peak blaze, red hot coals that pierced the twilight, and its breath rasped like bellows pumping fire.
The deity swung a hammer of liquid iron, the weapon hissing through the air, trailing sparks that sizzled on the wet ground like angry hornets. Tobi dodged, the heat grazing his clothes and singeing the fabric with a sharp, smoky whiff that made his eyes water. "Omo, you think you fit melt me? I no be wax candle!" he taunted, his funny vibe cutting through the fear, a laugh bubbling up despite the adrenaline surging like fire in his veins. Nneka leaped aside, her gauntlets projecting a holographic shield that crackled on impact, absorbing a molten shard with a burst of steam that tasted of rust on Tobi's tongue.
"Abeg, no play with this one!" Nneka shouted, her voice strained, fingers dancing over her gauntlets to hack the deity's aura uli patterns flickering as she probed for weaknesses. "Iron no dey forgive like water. My clan learn that hard them exile me after I try bind gate spirit, say I tempt Chukwu's wrath." Her confession slipped out in the heat of battle, her eyes flashing with the pain of lost kin, the village elders' stern faces haunting her like shadows in the grove.
Tobi's Emi-Ogú roared to life, the Crest searing his chest like a brand, threads erupting from his palms in jagged obsidian streams that whipped through the air with a whispery hiss. This was mid-tier no simple soul-bind; he aimed for the domain, the iron's core essence. The threads lashed forward, clashing with the hammer in a shower of sparks that lit the grove like fleeting stars, the metal's clang reverberating in his bones. The Ogu countered with a surge of slag, molten waves crashing like a scorned forge, the heat blistering Tobi's skin, raising red welts that stung like nettle pricks.
He flipped over a root, the wood slick under his boots, landing with a grunt that expelled the air from his lungs. "You slow pass slot in traffic!" he quipped, his wit a shield, but inside, sorrow clawed a shard vision flickering: Ife's face in the flames, her hands reaching for him as the ritual consumed her, her scent of shea butter fading into smoke. "Don't let it consume you..." her voice echoed, a tragic dirge that fueled his rage. Tobi's eyes darkened, cold as a quenched blade, and he lunged, threads wrapping the deity's core like vines strangling a tree.
The iron resisted, its heat searing the threads, the air filling with the acrid stink of burning obsidian, but Tobi's will held firm, muscles straining, sweat pouring in salty rivulets down his back. He yanked, the domain tearing free in a rush of molten power that flooded his veins, heavy and scorching, tattooing his arm in fractal iron patterns that cooled to a dull throb. The Ogu being staggered, its form fraying like rusted wire, molten limbs dripping in glowing puddles that hissed on the ground.
Tobi's face turned to ice, voice a glacier's crack: "Your forge ends here, old iron. Dust claims its due." He crushed the threads, the deity collapsing in a cascade of sparks and ash, the kill silent as a tomb sealing shut, the grove trembling one last time before stilling. The air cleared, the scent of charred metal lingering like a bitter aftertaste, and Tobi exhaled, the stolen domain humming in his Crest, a weight that promised strength and a deeper fracture.
Nneka approached, wiping soot from her face, the gauntlets' hum fading to a soft purr. "Mad o! But iron no be my friend clan say it curse our blood." Her words carried the tragedy of her exile, eyes shadowed with the loss of home, a subplot unfolding like a thread pulled loose. Tobi nodded, the new tattoo prickling under his skin, a reminder of power's price. In the distance, a starship's low drone pierced the twilight, the Starweavers watching, their shadow lengthening under the 08:04 PM sky.
As they moved on, Tobi's thoughts drifted to whispers of a Hausa stargazer Zara, her visions a light in the dark, a love waiting to bloom amid the war. But for now, the grove's silence mocked him, the Crest speaks of sacrifices yet to come. The war of souls had only begun, each step a forge hammering his fate.