Oba glanced around the public storage center, eyes narrowing slightly. Too open. Too many people moving in and out. Too many cameras.
"Yeah… not here," he muttered.
He tucked the box into his bag and walked out, heading down a quieter path. A few turns later, he slipped into a narrow alley—cracked walls, dim light, the faint smell of rust and damp concrete. Perfect.
He dropped the bag, pulled out the box again, and stared at it.
"Alright… let's see what you left me, bro."
He opened it.
At first—nothing. Just a dull, metallic surface inside.
Then it moved.
The thing melted.
Not slowly. Not gently. It collapsed into liquid, a silver glow bursting out like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
"Wait—what the—"
It shot forward.
Wrapped around his fingers. Crawled up his hand.
Oba panicked, trying to shake it off, but it was too fast—too smooth—slipping into his skin like it belonged there.
"No, no, no—!"
The silver glow surged up his arm.
His veins lit up.
Cold.
Not just cold—freezing. Like ice was running through his blood.
His vision warped.
The alley stretched. Sounds slowed. Even the distant hum of drones outside dragged like broken audio.
Everything… slowed.
"Fck…"
His knees buckled.
Darkness swallowed him.
When Oba's eyes snapped open, the sky was darker.
He jerked upright, breathing hard. Sweat soaked his shirt.
"What…?"
He grabbed his phone.
6:02 PM.
His heart skipped.
"Five hours…?"
He had been out for five whole hours.
A faint sound echoed from the alley entrance.
Clapping. Slow. Mocking.
"Well, well… look who finally woke up."
Oba turned. Four guys and one bigger one stepped into the alley. The leader cracked his neck, smiling like he just found free money.
"You know this area isn't safe, right?" one of them said. "People come here… and don't leave with their stuff."
Another snorted. "Or they don't leave at all."
Oba stood up slowly, brushing dust off his clothes.
"Ah," he said calmly. "So you people are the welcome committee?"
They laughed.
"Guy dey joke o," one said.
The leader stepped forward. "Drop your bag."
Oba tilted his head. "Make me."
There was a pause.
Then one of them grinned. "Boss, this one get mouth."
"Break it," the leader said simply.
The four rushed him.
Oba moved.
It wasn't perfect. Not clean. But sharp. Instinctive.
He ducked the first swing, drove his elbow into a rib—crack. The second came with a pipe—Oba blocked, pain shooting through his arm, but he pushed through and slammed his head forward.
Third tried to grab him—Oba twisted, remembering something faint… stance… balance…
Ayemoyi's voice.
"You don't fight strength with strength, Oba. You move. You think."
Oba shifted, tripped him, slammed him down.
Fourth hesitated. Bad move.
Oba lunged, landing a rough punch that sent him stumbling back.
Silence.
All four were down or struggling to get up.
The leader stepped forward slowly now, smile gone.
"Not bad," he said.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Oba barely saw it coming. A heavy blow slammed into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He staggered, vision spinning. Another hit—his face snapped sideways.
He dropped to one knee.
"Thought you were special?" the man said, grabbing his collar, lifting him slightly.
Oba's ears rang. His vision blurred.
Then—
He moved.
Two fingers straight forward.
Straight into the man's eyes.
"AAH—!"
The grip loosened instantly.
Oba didn't stop.
Knee up—hard.
Direct.
The man folded instantly, choking on pain.
"For safety," Oba muttered breathlessly, landing one more rough punch before stumbling back.
He didn't wait.
He ran.
By the time he reached home, the sky had darkened fully.
7 PM.
Oba shut the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing hard.
"What… the hell was today…"
He slid down slowly, sitting on the floor.
Morning—army acceptance.
Afternoon—Aleria.
Evening—whatever that box was… and that fight.
His hand twitched slightly.
That silver thing… it did something. He could feel it.
He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.
Then a memory surfaced.
The dojo.
Ayemoyi standing there, arms crossed.
"Come try it, Oba. Just once."
Bose scoffed from the side.
"No, I have better things to do. Plus you'll probably just start running around the girls in the dojo. "
Ayemoyi laughed. "You're scared."
"I'm realistic," Bose replied. "Plus, those girls there? They'll beat you if you try nonsense. Try not to put yourself in a tight spot"
Oba chuckled faintly at the memory.
Maybe… maybe that training saved him today.
His eyes grew heavy.
Body exhausted. Mind spinning.
He dragged himself to bed and collapsed.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then—
Grass.
Oba's eyes snapped open.
He was standing.
Not in his room.
A field stretched endlessly around him, the wind brushing softly against tall grass. Ahead… a forest. Quiet. Watching.
He frowned slowly.
"…Where am I?"
The wind stopped.
Everything went still.
And from deep within the forest…
Something moved.