All eight groups had now dispersed into the forest zones, each team pushing silently into their assigned sectors. The trees thickened. The undergrowth grew denser. And the deeper they went, the quieter the world became.
Above them, the sky was dimming.
The sun was descending fast behind the western ridges, bleeding orange into grey — and with it came the crawling fingers of dusk. Night was falling, and for humans, that meant vulnerability. But these weren't ordinary humans.
Darkness may have been a universal weakness, but not to the Divines.
Their enhanced sight allowed them to see clearly even in the deepest black of night. Shadows, outlines, movement—nothing escaped them. The real concern wasn't the dark. It was the timing. After all, some of them had just completed a long journey with minimal rest, and now, without pause, they were walking into a battlefield.
But exhaustion was a human flaw. And they weren't entirely human.
Thanks to divine essence, fatigue could be suppressed. Their bodies regenerated strength and stamina much faster, and many among them had fought for days without true rest. In fact, some would say this was just another day on the job.
The only weak link now was the Madarikans.
They lacked divine essence. Their eyes were keener than most humans, yes—but still humans with no divine enhances. Fatigue hit them harder. Night dulled their senses. Each group had accounted for this, making strategic arrangements to support their Madarikan members when the battles began.
And soon, they would.
For weeks, they had slithered and crawled in eerie silence — not out of fear, but because there had been no humans to hunt. Only wind, soil, and the wild life animals. The first contact was made not by one of the stronger teams, but by a unit many would have assumed to be among the weakest—
Group 2b, assigned to the Southwest Zone.
Their members:
Chizoba Duru — Madarikan.
Ikenna Udoka— Upper Hand.
Alade Adesina — Lesser Hand.
They had no Major. And for that reason, they were alert — hyper-aware. That sharpness was their strength. The trio spotted movement near a clearing just ahead. A group of six Voros — hunched, twitching forms — had gathered around the carcass of a fallen gazelle. It was hard to tell how long they'd been feeding, but the moment they noticed the Divine presence, the change was immediate.
Eyes glowing faint green. Vertical mouths stretching open in unnatural ways. Hunger — primal, crazed — flooded their postures. They turned sharply, hissing with glee, as though they'd been starved of real food for far too long.
"Odd," Chizoba muttered, raising his weapon. "They were just feeding, but they still look starved. It's like we're dessert."
Beside him, Alade unsheathed her Crescent Fangs. "Fallen hunger doesn't work like ours," she replied. "They crave humans. It's what satisfies their essence."
Upper Ikenna gave a sharp nod, stepping forward.
They took positions instinctively—Chizoba to the left flank, Alade on the right, and Ikenna at the center. Their triangle formation was tight.
The Voros responded in kind—spreading out, circling them with sick patience, their moss-like hair swaying in rhythm with their growls.
Chizoba's weapon, a massive double-headed war mace, was already crackling with divine energy. Forged from layered divine metal, it wasn't just for brute force — each swing released shockwaves that quaked the ground, disorienting foes. When anchored, it could create a protective zone against charging creatures.
But it wasn't time for close combat yet. Not with the light fading.
Instead, Upper Ikenna took the initiative.
He raised his arm — a chain dart launcher embedded into a sleek forearm device shimmered to life. Multiple glowing darts aligned themselves, each humming faintly with a different energy type.
Some were entanglers. Others, explosive. But tonight, he needed information.
Without a word, Ikenna flicked his wrist and loosed one dart — a Fallen Identifier.
It zipped through the air and struck one of the Voros cleanly in the chest. On impact, it detonated — not violently, but with a soft burst of pale smoke that fanned out like fog laced with static.
A moment later, the air around them changed.
From the shadows behind the original six, two more Voros emerged — drawn out by the chemical mist, their grotesque mouths gaping open as they abandoned the small animal they'd been feasting on.
"Eight now, and all Voros." Ikenna said calmly, letting his other hand drop to his side. "This should be fun."
Now that all the Voros in the area had been drawn out, extermination could begin.
No hesitation. No confusion. They charged forward as one.
Voros weren't considered major threats—not individually. Their danger came from numbers, not tactics. They had no traps, no cunning abilities. Just teeth, claws, and a hunger that never waned.
That was enough.
But this team had already agreed on their formation. They knew their roles.
Chizoba, being Madarikan, didn't have divine essence to prolong his stamina like the others. So, he took the smaller load—two Voros.
Alade and Upper Ikenna split the rest between them. Blades sang, darts spun. Muscle met bark-like flesh.
The Voros screeched as they dropped, one after another, bodies twitching as divine energy tore through them.
Then came the last three.
Upper Ikenna didn't waste time.
With a flick of his wrist, the explosive dart launched—its glow sharp against the darkening forest. It struck clean, embedded in the chest of the lead Voro before erupting in a pulse of golden-white flame.
The blast tore through all three.
A silence followed, brief and eerie.
Then the team advanced, leaving the scattered husks of the Voros behind.
***
Things were moving smoothly for the other groups. As predicted, first contact with the Voros had been relatively easy. The real challenge, everyone knew, would come later—deeper into the forest, closer to the shrines.
But before further advances could be made, two of the eight groups had paused. Major Obika and Major Deji had initiated a private Izu. Both had instructed their groups to halt and hold position while the discussion took place.
Not everyone agreed with that decision.
Lesser Hand Idris Husafi paced back and forth, clearly irritated. His arms were crossed tightly, fingers twitching against his elbows.
"This is a time-sensitive mission," he muttered, loud enough for Ajani to hear. "Talks like this should've happened before we left. We're wasting time with side conversations while this infestation grows."
Ajani Adesina, trying his best to keep things calm, stepped closer. "It's not that simple. If the Majors are taking a moment, there's a reason. Just wait—"
"I'm not here to wait," Idris snapped, his voice rising. "I didn't sign up for this contract just to stand around while Majors whisper among themselves."
Without another word, he turned and darted off into the forest on his own.
Ajani cursed under his breath. He looked at the silent form of Major Deji—still locked in Izu—and then at the direction Idris had vanished toward.
If something happened to Idris, they'd all be blamed.
With a low sigh, Ajani made his decision.
He ran after him.
Meanwhile, inside the Izu realm, Major Obika and Major Deji stood in the vast, glowing plane of divinity.
"This whole thing doesn't feel right," Obika finally said, arms folded. "It's too precise. Too organized. I've seen Fallens gather before, but never like this. Not without reason."
"You think it was intentional?" Deji asked.
"I do," Obika replied flatly. "I believe someone orchestrated this… someone controlling the Lubara shrines."
Deji frowned. "That's not a light accusation."
"I'm aware. But you've seen the numbers yourself. And the way the portals are spread out, almost like they were placed with strategy in mind."
Deji didn't respond immediately. The idea was disturbing—but it wasn't impossible."Who do you suspect is behind this?"
Major Obika hesitated. The name in his mind wasn't one to toss lightly. He took a breath, weighing whether to say it at all. Then, finally:
"The Husafi brothers."
He let the words hang in the air before continuing."They have the most to gain. Control over the Confluence has always been a point of tension. If this region becomes unstable—and they're the ones to bring it under control? That's political capital. That's influence."
"You think they'd risk their own to make that happen?"
"They don't see it as a risk," Obika replied. "They see it as a worthy sacrifice. Besides, who's to say any of theirs are in danger? They've sent just enough to look committed without truly exposing themselves."
Deji still didn't look convinced."It's a stretch, Obika."
"Maybe. But I'm not here to act on assumptions. I want proof." Obika's eyes narrowed."That's why I called you. I've already placed eyes and ears on my side—we're tracking everything. If anything strange happens out there, I want to know."
Deji nodded slowly."Alright. I'll do the same. If I see something off, I'll report it directly."
"Good," Obika said."Thanks for your cooperation, Deji. I always knew I could count on you."
Deji gave a short nod."Of course, Obika. You don't need to mention it."
The Izu ended.
Deji opened his eyes slowly in the physical realm—just in time to notice Ajani was gone.
And Idris Husafi was nowhere in sight.
***
Before our mission began, Major Obika had gone into an Izu with Major Deji, leaving just Hema Tari and me waiting at the edge of the forest. We hadn't gone too deep yet, which meant zero confrontation with any Voros—still silence, still calm.
While we waited, I took some time to rest — leaning back onto a flat rock, eyes to the sky. I didn't have divine stamina like the rest of them, so any chance to breathe, I took. My body ached from the journey here, and my mind hadn't had a moment to slow down since we left the Ajiboye village.
Hema, on the other hand, couldn't keep still. She wasn't agitated, just... ready. Her pacing was deliberate. Her arms folded across her chest as she scanned the edge of the woods, over and over again like she was daring something to emerge.
She didn't seem irritated by the delay caused by the Izu between the Majors, but I could tell — she wanted action.
And I couldn't help but notice something odd.
She didn't carry a divine craft. None of the Taris did. Not a blade, not a gauntlet, not even a belt to hang anything on. In contrast, the other families wore their Divine Crafts proudly — strapped to their backs, wrists, or shoulders like sacred weapons of war. But the Taris? Nothing.
It piqued my curiosity.
I wondered if now was a good time to ask. But how was I even going to bring it up?
I stared at her for too long, thinking. I was mid-thought when she turned and snapped.
"What are you looking at, you creep?"
I blinked. Caught off guard. "Oh—me?"I sat up slightly. "Nothing. Nothing. I… was just wondering why you didn't have any divine craft on you."
She stopped pacing and rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might stick.
"Are you serious?" she said.
Then she narrowed her eyes at me.
"You're Akenzua, right?"I nodded slowly."Which means you're also from the South?"Another nod.
"Then why such an ignorant question?"
I felt like I'd stepped on glass barefoot. I could already tell this conversation was a mistake. If I had known this was where it'd go, I would've kept my curiosity buried.
I shook my head slightly. "Sorry for asking," I mumbled. "I'm not… familiar with all this divine structure stuff. Pardon my ignorance."
I turned away and laid back down on the rock, folding my arms behind my head and letting silence fill the space between us.
And for a moment, it stayed quiet.
Then I heard her voice again, softer this time.
"Every Divine family has its own form of divine arts," she said, "their own way of manifesting power."She paused."We Taris practice what we call Esemóra."
I raised an eyebrow. She didn't want to talk a minute ago. Now she was explaining the world's tradition?
Odd behavior.
Still, I turned to face her, curiosity pulling me up to a sitting position again.
"What's Esemóra?" I asked.
I braced myself for another irritated scoff or a sarcastic jab, but none came. Instead, she sat down on a rock opposite me, elbows on knees, gaze focused.
"Esemóra teaches that the world responds to rhythm," she said calmly."Movement, sound, and intention — together they form a triangle of power."
She paused like she expected me to fumble over the idea. Like she thought I needed time to chew on her words.
I didn't.
I nodded slightly to encourage her to continue.
She continued, clearly surprised I hadn't asked more questions.
"We the Taris use unique Divine Crafts worn on our hands and feet," she explained."We transfer our divine essence into the surroundings through choreographed actions and sacred utterances, allowing us to trigger elemental effects."
That's when it clicked.
Her gloves. Her boots.
They weren't just ornamental like I thought—they were her Divine Craft. I glanced at them again, now with new understanding, and then pointed subtly.
She noticed.
"Yeah," she said, nodding. "These are it."
Then she added quickly, "But don't expect a demonstration. We're on a contract. You'll see it when it matters."
I nodded, understanding completely. In battle, conserving divine energy was critical. They couldn't afford to waste it on explanations or showmanship. Run out of divine energy, and you'd either have to take time to recover it—which wasn't always possible in the heat of combat—or start drawing directly from your essence, a far more dangerous route.
Then, as if flipping the conversation back on me, she asked,
"Why'd you join the Adesina family?"
I glanced at her.
"Why?"
"You don't strike me as someone who cares much for this divine stuff."
She wasn't wrong. One conversation in and she'd already peeled back something I tried to hide.
Still, I shook my head.
"No, you're wrong," I said flatly."I've just had a… different background. Didn't grow up with all this. That's why I don't know much. But I'm committed. I want to be a great Hand. Maybe even a Master someday."
Her face twisted with amusement, like I'd just said something wildly unrealistic.
"You?" she snorted. "A Master?"
I didn't answer. But I could feel irritation rising in my chest.
She caught herself after a beat and lifted her hands in mock surrender.
"You know what? Who knows. Crazy things happen in this world. Maybe you'll surprise all of us."
She chuckled, then stood and walked a few paces away, giving me space as she waited for Major Obika.
I exhaled slowly and sat up. I wasn't sure if that conversation had been progress or a mistake. Maybe both.
A few minutes passed before Major Obika finally approached. His steps were calm but precise, his expression unreadable.
"We move now," he said simply.
I stood up and dusted my trousers. Hema moved back toward us without a word. We checked our gear—me with my blade, her tightening the straps on her gloves.
Then together, without another word, we stepped into the forest.
Our contract had officially begun.