We had woken up — Tor and I. All of a sudden. No slow stirring, no groggy stretch, just awake, like a switch had flipped.
The others, though? Nothing. Still slumped over, deep in unnatural slumber. It didn't take long to connect the dots. The moment we stepped outside and saw Akenzua being pinned to the ground by some man draped in blood-colored robes, everything made sense.
So he's the reason we blacked out… and why no one else woke up.And judging by how easily he floored Akenzua — this man wasn't just some random attacker. Possibly a Madarikan… a well trained one.
I landed just a few steps in front of him. His foot was still on Akenzua's chest like he was stepping on a discarded mat. I narrowed my eyes.
"What business do you have with my Hand?" I asked, voice even, not hostile yet — but not friendly either. "Are you Madarikan?"
He must be a rogue one, maybe? Because it would explain a lot. But even at that, to knock Akenzua out so cleanly.
I drew a breath and planted myself firmly. "I am Major Deji of the Adesina Family. The one you have your leg on is my Hand. I demand that you take your foot off him, and we can discuss what issue you have with him."
The man didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't even tilt his head.
"I know who you are," he said, casually. "Deji Olatunji."
That gave me pause — a brief one. So he knows my name. Odd, but not impossible. Some Madarikans know me. My reputation's spread a little too far these days, for better or worse.
I adjusted my posture, not showing the sliver of unease I felt. "So you've heard of me. That should make this easier, then."
I gestured once, calm but firm. "Release my Hand. We can discuss, as promised. I'll overlook the harm you've caused him — for now. The reason behind it better be valid. And of course…" My eyes narrowed slightly, "you'll have to answer for the scene you left at the palace."
This was a guess on my part. There's no one else I could accuse of the situation right now. He's our only lead. If he's responsible, then he better have a good reason. If he doesn't…
The man raised an eyebrow and sighed, almost theatrically.
"Are you all so uncultured?" he said. "No greetings. Straight to demands."
He shook his head slowly — the way elders do when they witness a child misbehave in public. "Unfortunately for you, I won't be meeting any of your demands."
And just like that, he lifted his foot off Akenzua.
But then, he bent down — trying to pick Akenzua up.
Bad move.
In the blink of an eye, before I could even lift a finger, Tor appeared beside him like a ghost — firm grip locking onto the man's wrist.
The man paused.
He stared at Tor's hand, as though puzzled that someone had dared lay a hand on him.
Tor, ever the agile one, spoke with barely concealed heat. "I'm sorry, but my Major gave you orders."
They locked eyes.
And in that moment, Tor saw it.
His eyes.
Cracked. Deep. Like broken glass sealed into a golden orb.
Tor flinched. The grip on the man's wrist faltered. His shoulders stiffened, and a visible shiver passed through him like someone had poured fire across his back. He yanked his hand away, retreating a few steps instinctively.
The man didn't say a word.
But that gaze — it said everything.
"He's not human!" Tor's voice rang out, loud and frantic. He dropped to the ground, head bowed, shoulders trembling as if forced there by an invisible weight.
I turned sharply. "What are you saying, Tor?"
"I said—" he repeated, louder this time, panic rising with each syllable, "he's not human… he's not."
I moved quickly to him, placing a hand on his back to steady him. He was panting, nearly hyperventilating. "Calm down," I said firmly, though I was beginning to feel unease creep into my own spine. "Tor, talk to me. What's going on with you?"
"His eyes," he stammered, voice shaky. "Major… his eyes…"
I turned my gaze slowly back to the man, narrowing my eyes. This wasn't normal. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't just a well-trained Madarikan. If Tor was this shaken from mere eye contact, then this wasn't human.
So he's not a Madarikan.
Which means…
"You're possessed by a Fallen," I concluded aloud. "Aren't you?"
The man turned slightly, finally acknowledging me. And then… he smiled. Slowly. Calmly. As if the world moved at a pace only he controlled.
"Finally," he said, voice smooth. "You're asking the right questions. Questions that—if asked earlier—might have spared your Hand here the trouble."
He adjusted Akenzua effortlessly onto his shoulder, like a sack of grain.
"I am Prince Lu," he continued, "the Tree of Eruanga." His voice carried an unnatural clarity, as if every syllable was etched into the air. "Although," he added, glancing down at his current form, "this is merely a branch of my true self. Not one I'm particularly proud of... but it works."
I blinked. "Prince… what?"
He didn't answer.
I rubbed the back of my head, confused. Prince? Tree of Eruanga? What kind of Fallen introduced themselves with royal titles and horticulture? If I had the Adesina Handbook for Fallen Creatures on me right now, I'd be flipping through it like my life depended on it.
Because right now, it did.
Still, if he was Fallen—even if I didn't understand what sort—then that left only one possible response.
I stepped forward, adjusting the cobra dagger on my hip, and took a proper stance. No fear. No hesitation. Not when someone had knocked out my Hand, walked into a village undetected, and paralyzed a full palace.
"If you're truly a Fallen," I said, my voice steady, "then this can only be solved one way."
Behind me, I heard the familiar rasp of drawn steel. Tor, having gathered his breath and shaken off the fear, had unsheathed his twin cinders. He stood beside me, ready.
"Release my Hand," I said again. "Now."
A pause.
"I won't ask twice."
For a moment, Prince Lu simply stared at us.
Then—oddly—he looked surprised.
"You're serious?" he asked. "After all that, you still choose to engage me?"
He looked from me to Tor, genuinely perplexed.
"I've come to accept," he said slowly, "that you humans are uncultured… utterly disrespectful… but this—this right here—is a new mystery of stupidity I'll be adding to the long list of human traits."
He rolled his neck slowly, the golden beads on his wrist clinking with each shift like a soft warning bell. A smirk tugged at his lips—not wide, not forced. Just enough to show that he welcomed what was coming.
"Very well then," he said, "It seems you're poorly educated. Lucky for you—I've got time."
Then, casually—almost respectfully—he lowered Akenzua from his shoulder. One hand behind the back, the other under the knees, and he gently placed him on the ground, as if setting down something fragile.
He stood upright again and lifted his free hand.
The air around us shifted. Not with wind, not with heat, but with something else entirely—like the space between us and him was bending, changing, bracing for something unnatural.
"Let me provide you some important lessons," he said.
***
If there's one thing I've learned from years as being a Hand and now as a Major, it's this—when you don't know your enemy, don't rush the kill.
Gather first. Strike later.
And right now? I had no damn clue what kind of Fallen stood before me. His aura wasn't just dark—it was quiet. Composed. Like a patient flame that didn't need to burn to remind you it could.
Judging by the way he handled Akenzua and even Tor with such little effort… he wasn't just physically strong. There was something more—an underlying force, subtle, dangerous.
Physical? Possibly. Etheral? Definitely. Tor was still recovering from just a look.
We couldn't go in blind. I glanced at Tor. He didn't need a word from me. He knew.
Gauge first. Engage later. Minimal Divine Energy. Measure his hand.
We nodded—synchronized, practiced. In the same breath, we lunged forward. No flourish. No shouts. Just speed.
The goal was simple: test his reaction time, defense mechanism, and whether he'd rely on brute strength, etheral techniques, or something else.
I was faster. Growing to become a Major had shaped my movement into something efficient. I reached him first. Cobra Dagger in hand—its curved fang aimed straight for his skull.
If he blocked with his arm, I'd know his body was reinforced. If he dodged, I'd gauge his speed. If he used his essence, I'd sense the flux.
But…
He didn't move.
He just looked.
His eyes—no, his right eye—shifted. Like glass shattering in reverse, a crack split across the pupil, radiating outwards like veins of black lightning. Around the cracks, a black aura hummed faintly—cold, like grief frozen in motion.
And just like that, my dagger shifted course.
What?
I didn't move it.
He moved it.
My arm twisted mid-strike, veering to the side as if someone had grabbed my wrist and guided it away—but nothing touched me.
Behind me, I heard Tor close in. His timing was exact—one heartbeat after mine. His right Cinder Blade came in low and deadly, sweeping for Prince Lu's neck.
This time, Lu looked at him—not with the same eye, but the left.
Another fracture. Another pulse.
Tor's blade dropped mid-strike.
It didn't fall from his hand—no. It just fell. Like his wrist gave up. His grip loosened and the Cinder clattered against the ground.
I blinked, stepping back as Tor regrouped beside me, breathing hard.
What was that?
No contact. No essence burst. No obvious release of power. Just a look.
And yet… our weapons betrayed us.
My dagger's aim diverted. Tor's blade disarmed. Just by eye contact.
I stood firm but inwardly, a cold realization settled in.
First, Akenzua—human, but with Fallen essence.
Now this—Prince Lu, a so-called royal with powers I've never seen recorded in any manual.
What kind of game was the universe playing with us?
And more importantly—what the hell was going on with Akenzua?
I picked up my dagger again. Its edge still gleamed, but right now it felt more like a symbol of uncertainty than strength.
Tor stepped beside me, eyes wide."You saw that?"
I gave a slow nod. "His eyes. They're not normal."I paused, still processing. "It's like… he fires something invisible with them. Like a shot—anything aimed at him just bends away. My dagger. Your blade. He didn't even move."
I looked at the man again. No—the Fallen.
His eyes had gone still now. Clear. Normal. Too normal.So… he only uses it in reaction. Not a constant technique. A defense mechanism. He hasn't used it preemptively. Which means… maybe it can be baited.
I stepped closer to Tor, lowering my voice. "Let's confirm something."
I whispered the next part. Tor nodded, catching on instantly.
Across from us, Prince Lu tilted his head slightly, amused.
"Ah," he said. "Are you two… finally gaining some wisdom?"
I straightened. No use hiding anything now."Yes," I said flatly. "And we're about to show you what we've learned."
His smirk returned. "Fantastic. Show me."
We moved.
Fast, in-sync. As we had trained.
But this time, we didn't strike first. Instead—we threw our weapons.
My cobra dagger curved from the right, and Tor's first cinder came from the left, both flying at him with deadly aim.
As I expected, he fired that eerie gaze again. His right eye cracked—I saw the glassy ripple, like frost breaking—and my dagger suddenly veered off its path.
Then—Tor's second cinder flew in behind it, without delay.
He hadn't expected that one.
I saw it—the faint pause in his movement.
And then he reacted. Not with his eyes this time.
He grabbed the cinder mid-air. Twisted with impossible grace—and hurled it back at Tor like a whip of steel.
"Tor!" I shouted—but he was already moving, ducking low. The blade cut past his cheek and slammed into the ground behind him, embedded deep.
So… he wasn't just etheral.He had speed. Reflex. Strength.
And he could counter.
Fine.
I charged forward.
No more holding back.No more games.
I closed the distance fast, no hesitation, no flair—just raw technique. A quick jab, wide sweep, then an elbow strike followed by a slice across his side.
He evaded every move.
Like he'd read my steps before I even made them.
I pressed harder. Needed just one cut—just one to let the poison from my cobra dagger in.
But then—he moved.
His fist was a blur.
Crack.
The world tilted. My jaw exploded with pain and I hit the ground before I even realized what happened.
My back skidded across the soil. The taste of blood hit my tongue. I barely stopped myself from blacking out.
I sat up quickly. Vision shaking.
What the hell was that?
Tor had already rushed in, cinders blazing.
I saw the determination on his face.He was trying to cover me.
I stood up, steadied my breathing.No more half-measures. I joined him.
Together now—me with my dagger, him with his cinders—we attacked from both flanks, sharp and relentless.
And still—he didn't strike back.
He just evaded. Every blow. Every swing. Ducking, weaving, stepping aside like water flowing around stones.
He's not just fast. He's studying us.Just like we tried to study him.
I gritted my teeth.
What the hell are we dealing with?