It had been quiet for too long. Too easy.
Major Deji moved swiftly beneath the dark canopy, his cloak brushing past twisted bark and hanging moss. Ajani followed closely, both of them navigating the dense forest in silence. The further north they pushed, the fewer Voros they encountered—but that didn't feel like a blessing. It felt like a buildup. A warning.
They hadn't reached the northern groups yet, but he could sense it—they were close.
Ajani finally broke the silence. "Do you think Akenzua's okay?"
Deji glanced at him but didn't stop moving. "He's alive. More than that, he's well."He leapt over a fallen log and added, "I assigned him a separate task. He'll handle it."
Ajani didn't speak for a moment. The concern on his face was sharp, heavy, but Deji's calm seemed to steady him. He nodded, clenched his chakrams tighter, and pressed on.
Minutes later, the forest thinned—and they saw it.
A massive swarm of Voros had surrounded the four northern units. They covered the field like a plague, twitching, pulsing, snarling.
"There," Deji muttered.
As planned, Ajani hurled both chakrams with a clean, fluid spin. They sliced through the Voros perimeter, not enough to kill, but enough to grab their attention.
It worked.
The horde turned. And charged.
"Go!" Deji shouted, turning on his heel.
He and Ajani dashed into the trees, drawing the swarm after them. Once they were deep enough into the woods, Deji leapt into a branch and activated his Skinshed technique—his body vanishing, splitting illusions in three directions. Confused, the Voros scattered.
Ajani didn't waste the moment. He spun both chakrams high, catching a circular momentum, and launched them in a wide arc. The steel blades carved a clean line through the swarm, dropping several.
Deji landed behind the remaining Voros and dashed toward the embattled groups. He broke through their line, breath sharp in his chest.
Simi was tending to Amarachi Eze and Chika Udoka. The two Madarikans looked bad—wounds deep, breath shallow. Tor Adesina, Upper Samir, Major Kosiso, and Major Adeshola were still holding formation. Dara Tari guarded two unconscious Madarikans—Ebube and Onyeka.
Major Adeshola turned first. "It's good to see you, Major."
Deji gave a short nod. "The feeling's mutual."
He scanned the group quickly, taking note of their battered state. "What's the situation?"
"We're running out of energy," Adeshola said plainly. "If we don't move soon… the worst could happen."
Upper Samir, breathing hard, added with a weak laugh, "How'd you even escape? Maybe your side wasn't as swarmed as this?"
Deji shook his head. "It was just as bad. We were lucky to make it out. Nothing more."
Adeshola raised a brow. "And Ajani?"
"He's buying us time. Trying to thin their numbers. But…" Deji looked toward the treeline, where the Voros regrouped with terrifying speed. "It's not working too well."
Tor Adesina cursed under his breath. "These damn things just keep coming. I knew something was off from the beginning. I said it." He threw a glance at the two unconscious Madarikans nearby. "But of course, those two passed out first. Left us to handle the fallout."
"Tor!" Kosiso snapped, glaring at him.
"It's fine," Deji said, his tone calm, almost dismissive. "We need to find a way out—now."
He looked at Kosiso. "Can you still use your craft?"
She shook her head, grimacing. "It's empty. I've got nothing left."
The air thickened with tension. More Voros emerged from the trees, clawing at the edge of the clearing.
Deji clenched his jaw. They were outnumbered, out of energy, and on the verge of being overrun—again.
And Akenzua… had he failed to destroy the northern shrines? The sheer number said no shrine had been taken down here yet. Ajani's distraction was weakening—he was meant to lead them away then loop back to the center.
But if the Voros closed in here, that window would shut.
They had seconds—maybe minutes—before the forest collapsed on them again.
Deji exhaled and tightened his grip on his dagger. "I'll try to carve out a path."
Tor stepped forward beside him. "I'll back you up."
His cinders glowed faintly in the air—barely more than embers now. Whatever divine energy had once surged through them was gone. All he had was a blunt edge and grit.
The two moved swiftly.
Deji darted toward the right flank, slashing through two Voros with precise, clean strikes meant to drive them apart. Tor followed close, swinging the dull cinder blade to knock back anything that moved.
Their goal was simple: scatter the Voros. Break their formation. If they could divide them, even briefly, it might create a narrow window for the group to escape.
But the beasts were fast—faster than expected.
Instead of separating, the Voros circled and closed in. A second wave swept in from the trees, nearly flanking Deji and Tor entirely. They were seconds away from being surrounded.
"Back!" Deji shouted.
They sprinted back into formation.
They tried again—Deji lunging left this time, Tor sweeping wide to bait the pack—but it was the same outcome. No matter where they turned, more Voros filled the space. Like the forest itself was bleeding them out, one move at a time.
Back in the circle again, Deji breathed heavily, chest rising with effort.
"They're not giving us an inch," he muttered.
Simi looked around, panic setting in. Major Kosiso's hands were trembling.
The circle was tightening. The Voros were closing in.
Nothing was working.
Every attempt to break free had failed. The Voros were everywhere—darting through the trees, clawing through the dirt, closing in from every direction. The line was thinning. Exhaustion was settling in.
Major Deji stood still, eyes scanning the chaos. His mind raced, weighing every possible move, every tactic, every option. And then it hit him—not a strategy, not a maneuver… but a choice.
He could wait, hope, and pray that Akenzua returned in time to save them.
Again.
But what kind of Major would that make him?
Akenzua had already given more than enough. It was time someone else carried the weight.
"Let me handle this," Deji said, already stepping forward into the chaos. The wind howled. Firelight cracked through the smoke.
Simi's breath caught. Her eyes widened as realization hit."Wait… you're not—"
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes steady."I am."
Major Kosiso, still landing sharp, calculated strikes between breaths, caught the exchange."What's he talking about?" she asked, voice tight with tension.
Simi swallowed."He's going to use his Pointholder."
Kosiso's brow furrowed. "His what?"
"It's a cobra-wrap," Simi said quickly. "A Divine Craft. It draws directly from his essence and converts it into raw power."
Kosiso's eyes widened slightly, a rare flash of fear breaking her usual composure."That kind of conversion—Deji, if you push it too far, it'll burn through you. You could die."
Deji turned to face them now. Fully. No fear in his eyes."I know. But it's mine. And I know how to use it."
Upper Samir grunted, taking down a Voro."Okay… how is having more energy going to help? These things are overwhelming us.""
Deji nodded, already analyzing the treeline where the next wave surged."Exactly. Which is why I'm not just going to fight them."
The others paused, if only for a breath.
"I'm going to pull them," he said. "Draw every last one of them to me."
Kosiso stared."That's suicide."
"No," Deji replied quietly. "It's a distraction. One big enough to buy you all a way out."
Simi didn't look up from Amarachi, her hands steady. But her voice trembled.
"Major…" she called out, low but firm. "Please don't do this."
Deji offered the faintest smile."This is the only way out." He turned toward the battlefield again, voice firm. "Major Obika called for help. The Eastern Madarikans and the Udokas should be close. If you can make it to the center, you'll survive long enough for them to reach you."
Adeshola's voice finally broke through."No." He turned. She stood there, still bleeding, still standing.
"You want to use the Pointholder, fine. I didn't stop you." Her voice cracked. "But you're not staying behind. That's not happening."
Kosiso nodded. "She's right. We don't leave our own."
Deji looked at them, gaze heavy with something more than exhaustion—resolve.
"Listen to me," he said. "This contract—this isn't where it ends. Not for you. Not for anyone. I'm not doing this to die. I'm doing this so we all live."
"No." Adeshola's voice cut sharp through the chaos, stepping forward. Her eyes were fierce, her jaw tight. "You're not doing this, Deji. We'll find another way. You're not paying the price for our mess."
Deji took a breath and walked closer, through the roar of battle, the clash of weapons and screams behind them. But right now, there was only her.
"Adeshola…"
He gently reached for her face, turning it toward him. Their foreheads nearly touched.
"Look at me. I am doing this."
He took her hand—his grip firm, but gentle, grounding her in the storm.
"If I don't, we might not make it. But if I do this right… you all walk out of here."
Her hand trembled in his. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, but she didn't let them fall."You always do this," she said, voice tight. "Always trying to carry the weight for everyone else."
Deji smiled, soft but tired. "And you always see through me. So why fight it?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came. Just pain.
"Voros are closing in!"Upper Samir's voice cracked like lightning. "We're out of time—are we doing this or not?"
Deji didn't break eye contact.
"Trust me," he said.
And slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.
Deji turned, wrapping the Pointholder tightly around his right hand—the cobra-shaped leather latching onto his skin like it was alive. The wrap slithered and pulsed with heat. His dagger flared to life with a dull golden light.
He exhaled. Immediately, a flood of energy surged through him—burning but controlled. The ground beneath him quaked softly as his eyes flickered with that familiar glow.
As the Pointholder bound itself to his skin, the cobra coils gripped tighter, locking in place with a faint hiss. Deji's dagger flickered to life—its glow low, golden, and pulsing like a heartbeat.
He felt it immediately.A portion of his essence, siphoned.
His chest tightened. Energy surged through him like fire down a vein—searing, potent, and volatile. His eyes glowed faintly as the cobra-shaped dagger pulsed in sync with his breath.
He was ready.
There was no time to fight them one by one like the Morduk. That would be suicide. Too many enemies. Too little time. He needed something that would cover ground. Disorient. Distract. And he had just the thing.
A half-smile crossed his face, despite the weight pressing down on him.
Shed skin again, he thought. I guess this is becoming my signature.
Without another moment wasted, he bolted into the swarm of Voros. The blade in his hand thrummed with power as he struck it deep into the earth at the heart of the chaos.
The air shattered.
What came next was a blur of movement—twenty mirror-images of Deji burst outward, fanning through the field like specters. His illusions weaved in and out of the surge, so fast they blurred, twisting perception. Wind whipped around them as if the very forest responded to his call.
A minor whirlwind formed, dust kicking up, debris spinning. Confusion erupted among the Voros. Their order collapsed. Some recoiled. Some lunged at illusions that vanished just before contact. They stumbled, snarled, split.
And then—there it was.
"Now!" Kosiso shouted, eyes locking on the opening Deji had carved into the madness. "Go!"
The team didn't hesitate. With Amarachi cradled in Samir's arms and Chika hefted across Maktar's back, they moved. One by one they slipped through the chaos.
Adeshola paused at the edge of the opening. Her eyes scanned the battlefield—dozens of false Dejis swirling like smoke and mirrors. But the real one… she spotted him. Still moving. Still fighting. Still alone.
Her steps slowed.
She couldn't leave him.
But then a hand grabbed her wrist.
"Major Deji did this for us," Tor said, voice sharp with urgency. "Don't waste it."
"You're right," she whispered, wiping the tear from her cheek as she turned away—drawing in a breath that tasted of fire and regret.
And ran.
Behind them, deep within the broken surge of Voros, Deji's figure flickered again—drifting like a ghost between monsters. Still shedding. Still standing.
Still buying them time.