Simi had already taken her stance.
She faced the Morduk head-on, trying to steady her breath as it lumbered toward her. But the closer it got, the more her arms shook. Her footing faltered.
The thing drooled as it advanced. It was enjoying her fear.
She took a step back. Then another.
The Morduk picked up speed.
She wasn't going to last.
I appeared behind her, leaned in, and whispered, just enough for her to hear.
Deji, now upright, shouted from the back, "Get her out of there, now! Akenzua!"
But before he could respond, Simi turned and bolted into Deji's arms, shaking, breathless.
I stepped forward. I honestly had no idea what the outcome of my actions was going to be. For all I knew, The power that came out months ago might have been long gone. I might have been possessed by fallen and simply manifested. So right now, I might be as good as the villagers, but even after all these thoughts ran through my mind, they didn't stop me from taking that step. In fact, it did the opposite, it propelled me even further. Whatever the outcome would be. I had made my peace with it.
For safe measures I made an announcement to the people behind me.
"Stay back," I warned. "Please stay back. Do not come close to me. Do not cheer. Do not speak.
No matter what happens.
Not until I'm gone." I pleaded.
Quite frankly, everything I had just said might come back to stab me in the foot.
Their interference could very well save me if things went wrong.
But that wasn't my concern.
My only fear was simpler:
That this act of heroism would spiral into the same tragedy I'd been running from.
That it would happen again.
Whispers broke out.
"What is he saying?" someone muttered.
Tor scoffed. "This boy's insane. What does he think he's doing? He couldn't even survive the Madarikans, and now he wants to face a Morduk?"
He spat on the ground.
"I'm starting to think they wanted you dead because of your stupidity."
But then the Morduk stopped.
Suddenly still. Eyes locked on my tender frame. Like it was studying me. And gazing beyond my physical appearance.
I walked forward, slow, steady, with a palm wine bottle in hand.
I tilted my head back slightly and spoke.
"For three months, I've asked myself why," I began. "How could I have done something so horrific?"
Staring down at the bottle in my hand.
"This thing… this thing of pleasure…" I muttered. "How could this… bring out something so ugly from me?"
"I feel disgusted thinking about it. But that's nothing compared to how I would feel if I did nothing. I will not bear witness to another massacre."
I took a good amount from the bottle before letting it fall.
Standing face to face with the Morduk. It growled, massive and shaking with fury.
And then it happened. Just like before.
My eyes glowed, deep, sharp red, as if something had been awakened inside of me.
A faint vapor escaped my mouth, curling into the air like smoke rising from water poured over fire.
Bone-like spikes, jagged and silver, shot out from both of my wrists, Fallen-crafted, shaped like weapons.
The Morduk lunged.
But I didn't flinch.
Instead, I met the beast's full slam with a single block, and in one slice, my right-bonespike cut straight through the creature's arm, tearing it clean off.
The Morduk roared in pain, swinging wildly with its other arm, only for me to cut that one off too, just as easily.
Then a smile appeared on my face.
And the Morduk… stepped back.
It hesitated.
Tried to flee.
But I was faster. At this very moment all I could feel was an insatiable hunger to kill anything standing before me.
Grabbing it, I plunged both of my arms into its chest and began ripping its insides out, piece by piece.
In rage.
In release.
In the terrible relief of freedom.
The Morduk howled until its last breath was gone.
But it wasn't over.
Three more Morduk emerged from the trees, drawn by the chaos.
The villagers froze again, paralyzed by disbelief.
But I turned to Morduk's approaching, and my smile got wider.
Charging at full speed, which looked unreal to the witnesses, I struck the first, then the second, then the third, each one trying to escape, but chased down mercilessly as my bonespikes tore through their bodies.
***
The villagers heard everything, the cries, the slicing, the snapping of bones and flesh deep in the forest. A child whimpered, but no one dared comfort them. Not until the sounds faded into the night.
For hours, it went on.
No one moved.
Not even the wounded stirred.
The villagers, the Hands, the medics, everyone remained frozen. Some in fear. Some in reverence. Others in shock. And when silence finally returned, it didn't bring peace. Just a heavier kind of stillness.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
A faint orange glow began to stretch across the village rooftops. Dawn was breaking.
They had survived the night. Somehow.
Major Deji, his shirt stained and his shoulder still bloodied, forced himself upright. His legs buckled slightly beneath him, but he managed to keep standing. He didn't speak. Didn't announce anything. He just turned to Simi and quietly said, "Watch over them."
Then he walked.
One slow, limping step after the other, he followed the trail into the forest, guided by the carnage.
Morduk corpses lay scattered across the path. Mangled. Torn apart with a precision that disturbed him more than the blood itself. Their bodies had been hollowed. Broken. Almost… dissected.
Then he reached the clearing.
A nest.
Wide, hollowed out, bones littering the floor. Feathers. Twigs. Blood.
He felt his breath hitch.
There hadn't been just two. There had been more. A dozen at least. Juvenile Morduks. Hatchlings.
This hadn't been a rogue attack.
It had been a feeding ground.
The twin Morduks he had fought, they were parents.
And this was where they had dragged their victims.
A low curse escaped his lips. He ran a hand through his matted hair, wiping sweat and soot from his brow.
Twin Morduks were rare.
A whole nest?
Something was deeply wrong.
And that's when he saw him.
Akenzua.
Curled up against a jagged stone, slumped low, his arms limp at his sides. Eyes open, but empty. He didn't move when Deji approached.
No spikes.
No resistance.
Just a boy who looked more ghost than human.
Deji knelt beside him. He didn't speak right away. Just sat, observing. Waiting.
Eventually, he spoke, quiet, but certain. "This is why they were after you, isn't it?"
Akenzua didn't reply at first. His head moved slightly, barely a nod.
Then another.
And another.
Each movement heavier than the last.
Deji's chest tightened.
Akenzua's shoulders started to shake. His mouth parted, trying to speak, but the words came out cracked and uneven.
"I slaughtered them," he said at last. "All of them. Every single one."
His voice broke apart with each breath. "I remember… their voices. Their faces. They begged me to stop. I wanted to. I swear I did…"
He doubled over, arms wrapping around himself as if trying to keep from falling apart completely. But it was too late. The weight had already broken through.
"I didn't stop. I couldn't."
Deji watched him, saw the blood that had dried on his arms, the dirt caked into his palms, the tremble in his lips as he continued.
"I don't deserve to live," Akenzua whispered. "Not after what I've done. How can I just keep living? Where's their justice?"
He lifted his head, and for a second, his eyes met Deji's. Wild. Desperate. Drenched in guilt so raw it felt like it could drown them both.
"I should've died," Akenzua muttered. "Should've died a long time ago…"
Then he broke.
No more words.
Just shuddered breaths and quiet, broken sobs.
And Deji… said nothing.
He reached out.
Pulled the boy into him.
Akenzua didn't resist.
He clung to Deji's chest with trembling arms, his cries muffled against cloth and blood.
And in that cursed forest, in the hollow remains of fallen and memory,
He cried like someone who had finally allowed himself to.
And Deji didn't let go.
***
The new day came with new noise.
They called it joy. Celebration. Victory.
But to me, it felt like something else.
The people of Okusuwei had been tested, pushed to the edge of extinction. And somehow, they made it out alive.
Not because of strength. Not because of strategy.
But because of a monster they didn't understand.
Because of me.
They didn't see it that way, of course. To them, I was a hero. A savior. The Chief told the story over and over again, how I had shown up asking for palm wine, and how he'd thought I just wanted to get high. He laughed every time he said it, and the villagers laughed with him. Like the terror had already been buried in the past. Like it could be drowned in wine.
They decided this day would be remembered. Palm Wine Day, they called it.
A day of drinking. A day to honor me.
But I wasn't celebrating.
While they raised cups and sang songs about survival, I sat in silence, remembering death.
"Where was someone like Tuedon Akenzua when my people needed saving?"
The thought burned through my chest, cold and sharp.
I couldn't find a single drop of joy in all the noise.
Eventually, Simi came to me.
She didn't say anything at first. Just walked over, arms out, and pulled me into a hug. Long. Soft. Still.
Then, almost in a whisper, she said,
"I said a lot of things… not knowing what you were carrying inside.
And you didn't say anything back.
I feel ashamed. Disgusted with myself."
"You shouldn't," I said.
"You did what any kind person would've.
You helped me when I was nothing but a stranger.
That kindness… I can't repay it.
But I'm grateful.
Thank you."
She nodded, holding back tears, and stepped away.
Later, Tor approached me too.
He didn't say much, not right away. His pride made it hard for him. But I could see it in his eyes: the image of me tearing through the Morduks still haunted him. So he swallowed it down, and apologized the best he could.
More people came.
Villagers brought food, gifts, anything they could offer.
They danced around the room I stayed in.
Sang songs and went as far as to praise me.
I sat quietly, watching it all.
Shocked.
How could something that had brought me so much pain…
something that turned my world upside down…
now be celebrated?
It left me conflicted.
When the celebration ended, Deji received the promised payment and prepared to leave with his Hands.
But before they set off, he came to me.
"You should come with us," Deji said. "Let me take you to my Master."
One would think after witnessing such a terrifying sight and the danger that lurked within me. Keeping me far away would be the smart choice. Or just as those Madarikans, execute me as soon as possible. But the opposite seemed to be the case when it came to the divine. They were not just different in ability and power from the Madarikans, but in character. Under normal circumstances I would have accepted such an offer. It was my dream to become a Madarikan after all. And the divine families were leagues above them. So this was a one way ticket to greatness. However I could not accept.
I shook my head.
"I told you before. I belong in the forest. Now you understand why. You saw what I became. I can't be around people." I explained
But Major Deji didn't back down.
He took me outside, led me to the edge of the gathering, and pointed around.
"Look," he said.
The villagers were laughing. Children playing.
Elders watching over.
Youths already rebuilding what had been damaged.
"All of this… is because of you," Deji said. "You gave them life.
And there are other villages out there.
Other people who might suffer the same fate.
You could help them too."
He had a point.
I had saved them, because of my Fallen nature.
But… what if it had gone wrong?
It made me recall that moment, how something inside me wanted to turn to the villagers and charge at them. I shared this with Major Deji
How I almost did turn
And if I had, the outcome would've been as tragic as that of my village.
"What if next time, on a whim, I turn? Who will stop me then?"
Then, Deji placed a hand on my shoulder.
"I will," he said.
"I'll be there. Every step of the way.
We'll figure it out, what you are, how to control it.
But you have to trust me.
Let me carry this burden with you.
We'll make it lighter. Together."
Was this the assurance I needed?
Was this what I had been waiting to hear?
Could Deji really stop me if the worst happened?
I stood there, thinking.
That's when Simi stepped forward.
She didn't ask.
She just took my hand and locked her fingers into mine.
"You're not going back there," she said softly.
"Not when you can be so much for so many."
Then she looked at me with a warm smile.
"No, you don't get a say in this."
"Hey!" Tor jumped in, mock-jealous.
"You've never held my hand before!"
"Did you save the village?" Simi asked.
Tor turned away, hiding his face as Deji laughed.
And for the first time in a long while…
I smiled.
A real, honest smile.
"Okay," I said.
"But on one condition."
Deji raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
***
Tuedon Akenzua had joined Deji's Hand unit.
He wore a spare navy cloak, slightly oversized, worn at the edges, but it marked his place among them. Before they returned to the House of Adesina, Akenzua had a few stops to make.
This was his request.
The first was where Chuba had been killed.
The creature's body still lay there. Lifeless. Unmoving.
Akenzua stood over it in silence for a long while. Then he dropped to his knees and began digging.
He didn't ask for help.
He needed to do this alone.
So Deji, Simi, Tor, stood back, watching from a respectful distance, as Akenzua buried the only friend he had in the forest. His hands trembled. His tears fell freely, mixing with the soil.
He whispered something as he covered the grave. No one could hear it.
When he was done, he didn't speak. Just stood, brushed the dirt off his hands, and nodded once.
The second stop… was his village.
The one he had destroyed.
It looked exactly as he'd left it, frozen in the aftermath of horror.
When Deji and the others saw it with their own eyes, their breath caught.
The place was in ruins.
The ground itself had been reshaped. Homes leveled. Structures splintered. The scent of smoke still clung to the air.
Bloodstains marked the earth, most of it washed away by the rain, but the traces were stubborn, etched into the land like scars.
Simi gasped, covering her mouth.
Tor stood frozen.
Even Deji, for all his composure, could barely believe it.
How could one person have done all this?
Akenzua walked through the village slowly, like a man retracing the path of his own execution.
Then, at the edge of the ruins, he stopped.
Knelt.
The sky darkened above him. Rain threatened again.
And there, with his head bowed and voice low, he made a vow.
"I can never be forgiven.
Never can I be saved.
But I must,
And I shall,
Pay for my crime to all of you.
I will only exist to ensure that evil like me never harms the weak and innocent again.
And when the day comes that life no longer flows through my body, human or Fallen…
I will find you all in the afterlife.
And I will accept whatever judgment you give me."
The rain began to fall.
He stayed kneeling.
His cloak soaked.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
The sky wept with him.
***
Boma, the Madarikan, led his unit with a storm in his chest. By the time they arrived at Okusuwei, the rain had stopped, but the roads were still wet with its memory. They'd come too late. Again.
But he wasn't alone.
Marching beside them was a unit of five, cloaked in deep green, their uniforms marked with a twin-horned emblem on the shoulder.
Whispers spread through the villagers like smoke.
"Is that… Master Haruna of the Husafi Brothers?"
"One of the Husafi Masters?"
"What's he doing here?"
They weren't wrong.
Master Haruna walked at the head of the Husafi unit, tall, quiet, and calm in a way that made people uneasy. His attire was simple, dark, and layered, but his stillness was not.
Every step he took felt too measured. Too deliberate.
Like the land itself made way for him.
They said he once stared down a raging Fallen Creature, and it backed away first.
Whenever he took a contract, it ended in the most peaceful way possible.
No bloodshed.
Just a man who could silence any Fallen Creature by simply being near.
Boma gestured toward the village. "This is where the Hand Major brought the beast," he said, voice edged with disgust. "It's already begun leaving its mark."
But before Haruna could reply, the village chief stepped forward, staff in hand and face steady.
"You speak too quickly, madarikan," the chief said. "What happened here was no attack. That boy helped defend us. Saved lives. Whatever he is… he is not your beast."
Haruna raised a brow, intrigued.
He turned to Boma, voice calm but cutting. "A beast that saves villages?"
Boma gritted his teeth. "He's dangerous."
Haruna said nothing for a long time. Then, with a slight smirk:
"What have the Adesina family stumbled upon, I wonder…"
He turned toward the direction of their departure, his voice dropping low.
"Very well. I shall see him for myself. And if he truly is the beast you claim, Boma… then I will slay him myself."