Africa was never meant to be united.
That was the lie.
The colonial borders, the tribal fractures, the foreign puppets—all engineered to keep the continent in disarray. To keep it begging.
But Michael Ogunlade wasn't interested in unity.
He was interested in dominion.
The plan was simple on paper: consolidate the African continent under Nigerian supremacy—politically, economically, militarily. But power is never given. It's taken. And those who still believed themselves kings would learn the price of opposing a god.
Cairo, Egypt.
The Arab League laughed behind closed doors, mocking the "Nigerian experiment." Egypt, long addicted to American aid and Israeli quiet favors, refused to acknowledge Abuja's growing shadow.
Their mistake?
They thought Michael needed acknowledgment.
It started with a hacking campaign.
Nigerian cyber units crippled Egypt's banking systems. Transactions stalled. Oil shipments delayed. Military accounts frozen.
Then came the bombings. Not on civilians—on military depots, munitions warehouses, and communications satellites.
By the time Egypt realized it wasn't Israel or ISIS, it was too late.
Three generals were exposed—caught selling Egyptian positions to foreign intelligence. Video footage leaked.
Their bodies turned up floating in the Nile.
By week's end, Egypt's President flew to Abuja, hat in hand, signing a long-term military and intelligence pact.
The Sphinx now bowed to the Nigerian Eagle.
Tripoli, Libya.
Libya was chaos incarnate—fractured governments, warlords, and foreign mercenaries. A natural playground for Western and Russian influence.
Michael sent none of his men.
He sent weapons, drones, and money to three rival factions simultaneously.
When their civil war reignited, Nigeria's special forces walked through the smoke, securing oil fields and ports.
Every warlord had two options: submit and live, or vanish in the desert.
Only one refused.
His execution was broadcast live across African underground networks.
He begged.
South Africa.
Pretoria believed itself different.
Wealthy, "developed," with Western sympathies and aging power brokers who thought themselves immune to West African influence.
Michael humiliated them.
He leaked files on high-level South African officials: money laundering, underage escorts, ties to apartheid-era holdouts.
He exposed the judiciary's bribery web, the military's dependence on outdated NATO tech, and bankrolled violent unrest in Johannesburg.
The South African Rand collapsed in 48 hours.
Factions inside their military begged Nigeria for stabilization aid.
Michael sent advisors.
A week later, they flew Nigeria's flag at a UN regional summit.
Accra, Ghana.
They tried to fight smart.
Espionage. Media propaganda. Stirring ECOWAS against Nigeria.
Michael responded with infiltration.
One by one, Ghanaian opposition leaders were discredited. Their private affairs—illicit affairs, stolen funds, secret recordings—were dropped anonymously into the public.
The President's son was found dead, overdosed with heroin he'd never used before.
A "suicide note" revealed decades of corruption.
Riots followed.
Ghana's elite fell apart.
By the time order was restored, Nigeria's "peacekeepers" had become permanent advisors.
The new government was a shell—Michael's shell.
Across the continent, the message was clear:
Bow quietly, or bleed publicly.
The African Union? A renamed theater.
Michael installed his people as security heads, economic advisors, and election observers.
No war was declared.
No capital sacked.
But nation after nation fell under Nigeria's shadow.
He who controlled the intelligence controlled the leaders.
He who controlled the leaders controlled the continent.
In his office at IIS headquarters in Abuja, now overlooking the newly fortified Ministry of Intelligence, Michael stood before a digital map of Africa. Dozens of red pins lit the continent.
He smiled.
> "The West used to speak of a New World Order.
Let them witness the Nigerian Empire."