Ojadili collapsed.
Not from injury — but from absence, from betrayal, from loss collapsing into one unbearable weight.
The ground received him like something already broken.
For a moment, he did not try to rise.
Because rising meant accepting it.
The loss.
The truth.
That everything he had endured… everything he had fought to protect…
had been taken from him not by force—
but by trust.
The Oja was gone.
Yet something inside him remained tethered to it — a silent cord stretched across realms, vibrating with a pain he could neither sever nor followed.
It pulsed faintly.
Not in his hand—
but inside him.
As if the Oja had not fully left.
As if something of it…
still remembered him.
Power had once filled him like thunder in bone.
Now silence lived there — heavy, cold, unforgiving.
It was wrong.
Not empty—
but replaced.
As if something had been taken…
and something else had been left behind in its place.
The air felt thinner without it.
His chest tightened.
His fingers trembled against the soil as if searching for something buried beneath the earth. Yet for some reasons he still misses Udonkanka.
Then—
Footsteps.
Ojadili lifted his eyes.
The Chief Priest stood before him.
For a brief, dangerous second—
Ojadili considered striking him.
Not with power.
With his bare hands.
Because pain needed somewhere to go.
And the man before him had once been its source.
The same man.
The exile-maker.
The one whose voice had sealed his banishment and torn him from his people.
Ojadili's jaw tightened.
A pulse of anger flickered through the numbness.
What mischief now? he thought.
HEAVENLY REALM
The gods sat in their celestial thrones, unease rippling through the divine assembly like a silent storm.
No one spoke.
Even the air seemed to wait.
Amamiheuwa appeared before them.
She shone brighter than before — not with blinding radiance, but with the calm glow of deep knowing. Wisdom clung to her like a second skin. Her garment flowed with slow-moving symbols of thought, memory, and truth.
This was not the Amamiheuwa they had exiled.
This was something greater.
She looked upon them with quiet composure.
"Before I reveal the plan," she said gently, "what shall be done to the one responsible for my innocent exile?"
Amadioha smiled and stepped forward, pride resting easily on his shoulders.
He leaned close.
"What punishment do you desire?" he whispered, amused. "Surely you know no god may strike another."
Her eyes gleamed.
"That all the gods shall give you a hard-earned… slap."
A stunned silence fell.
"…or I will not reveal the plan."
Amadioha's smile faltered.
He turned slowly toward the others.
Ani's arm thickened with divine strength.
Her palm widened like a sculpted slab of earth.
Fear appeared — real fear — in Amadioha's eyes.
Seven slaps landed.
Not playful.
Not symbolic.
Each impact echoed like thunderclaps across heaven.
By the seventh strike, divine palm imprints burned across his cheeks.
His face hung heavy.
Even lifting his head became labor.
The gods returned to their seats.
Justice, in its own strange way, had been served.
EARTH
Villagers gathered in uneasy clusters.
Whispers replaced speech.
Eyes shifted toward Ojadili, then quickly away.
Above them, the sky held an unnatural stillness — as if the wind itself dared not move.
"Is he a source of destruction?" one elder muttered.
Another spat into the dust.
Fear spreads faster than truth.
Ojadili's gaze hardened toward the Chief Priest—
—but stopped.
Ugomma emerged from behind him.
Her eyes widened at the sight of Ojadili's broken posture.
She ran to him and knelt beside him.
No words at first.
Only presence.
Then she wrapped her arms around him.
He froze.
Not because he resisted—
but because he did not know how to respond.
War, loss, betrayal—
those he understood.
But this…
this quiet, human close arms.
Warmth.
Real.
Fragile.
Something the gods themselves could not create—
only humans could give.
It flowed into him like rain into cracked earth.
His breathing hitched.
The storm inside him softened.
"It's okay," she whispered. "You did your best. You even saved a child."
Something inside him loosened.
Not healed.
But no longer shattering.
HEAVENLY REALM
Amamiheuwa stood at the center of the divine council.
"Despite how powerful Ekwensu has become," she began, "the prophecy remains unchanged."
A hush fell.
"The Seed of a Woman will defeat him."
Relief moved through heaven like a gentle wind.
"The seed," she continued, "is not limited to birth.
It was not blood that mattered.
Not lineage.
But alignment.
A convergence of will, sacrifice, and purpose.
It is one who embodies the required virtues."
The gods leaned forward.
"There are three who may carry the power of all the gods."
She raised one glowing finger.
"First: a child at the moment of birth — power embodied just before entering the world."
A second finger.
"Second: an Eye of the Gods — priest, diviner, seer, or Ezenwanyi."
A third.
"And lastly… one who dies in the act of heroism."
Silence.
Ogbunabali spoke first.
"An Eye of the Gods is not an option."
Agreement rippled instantly.
Igwekala spoke gently:
"A child is not ideal. Such power may become a curse."
Anyanwu nodded.
"And forcing destiny upon one who cannot consent may birth another tyrant."
Agwunsi's voice emerged like still water:
"Then only the heroic dead remain."
A dangerous silence followed.
Amamiheuwa closed her eyes briefly.
Then spoke:
"Across the flow of time, countless lives end each day. In every passing breath, the world loses one soul."
She opened her eyes.
"We need only one… who possesses the qualities of the Seed."
She paused.
"And we pray Ekwensu does not strike before the true Seed is found."
EARTH
"The Divine require his presence," the Chief Priest announced.
Villagers withdrew immediately.
He stepped closer to Ojadili.
"No one will force you to become the Seed," he said quietly. "But Amamiheuwa commands that I show you something."
His voice softened.
"I was never your enemy. I sought only what I believed best for the people."
He extended his hand.
"Will you follow?"
Ojadili studied him.
Pain.
Anger.
Doubt.
And something else.
Hope, faint and fragile.
He stood.
"I will come."
As they departed, the priest murmured:
"Perhaps heaven has prepared another path."
HEAVENLY REALM
A young man appeared before the gods.
He looked much like Ojadili — strong, resolute — yet carried a softer face, untouched by long hardship.
His village had been invaded.
He fought until death claimed him.
The gods observed with approval.
Ani spoke:
"We are at war with Ekwensu. You have been chosen to embody the power of the gods. Do you accept?"
"Yes," the lad replied without hesitation.
But his fingers trembled slightly at his side.
Not from fear of death—
but from the weight of being chosen.
Because somewhere deep within him…
he understood this was not a gift.
It was a final chance.
"It is not certain," Anyanwu warned. "It is only a chance."
He smiled faintly.
"I have already died defending others. If I must die again, it will not be in vain."
He lifted his chin.
"This is an opportunity to prove my devotion."
Ekwensu entered heaven.
He surveyed the assembly.
He smiled.
"For those who believe me unwilling to negotiate," he said calmly, "I offer a proposal. Any god who joins me will live. Those who stand against me… will be erased."
Silence.
Agwunsi spoke calmly:
"You forget the prophecy. A human shall defeat you."
Light exploded.
The chosen lad appeared clad in divine armor — radiant, magnificent, echoing the thunder regalia partly worn by Ojadili.
Nine divine powers surged through him.
Even heaven trembled.
For the first time since his transformation—
Ekwensu felt fear.
It came without warning.
Sharp.
Unfamiliar.
Unwelcome.
For the first time since his ascension—
something existed…
that he could not immediately control.
Wind spiraled around him.
He forced himself still.
Indigo energy formed in his palm, dense with terrifying force.
The empowered lad raised his hand.
A white flame appeared.
Pure.
Absolute.
The Divine Flame.
It did not flicker.
It did not waver.
It could burn anything — matter, spirit, myth, or god.
But it demanded life in exchange.
The lad lifted it.
Ekwensu's breath tightened.
"I am Igwebuike!" he declared, drawing back his arm.
He threw the flame—
—but it did not leave him.
It collapsed inward.
The fire devoured him.
White light swallowed his scream.
Ash fell where he stood.
Silence.
Shock paralyzed heaven.
No scream echoed.
No resistance remained.
All gone.
Only absence.
And that's far dangerous than anything else.
As if the Heaven itself had rejected him—
and erased the attempt entirely.
" Where did it go wrong ?" Amamiheuwa asked in herself in shock.
Ekwensu released a slow breath of relief.
His indigo energy slipped from his hand.
It fell.
Downward.
Toward Earth.
Far below, the world waited…
unaware it had just been marked.
And far below—
Ojadili felt it.
A distant pressure.
Faint.
But growing.
He lifted his head slowly.
Because something…
was coming.
And this time—
it was not a god.
It was worse.