Sleeping on his bed in the middle of the night, Kayode was breathing heavily. He rolled from side to side, clearly uncomfortable. He couldn't sleep. He was about to doze off, but something kept stirring in him—an uneasiness he couldn't shake.
Suddenly, he woke up, gasping for air.
As he sat up and glanced around, he started seeing things. Things he was never meant to see—spiritual beings. Panic gripped his chest like a vice. He leapt up, eyes darting around, searching for an escape. Without a second thought, he dashed to his window.
"I have to get out!"
He didn't even remember he lived on the second floor. He jumped.
He hit the ground hard. Pain shot up his legs. One knee cracked gruesomely—a bone pierced through his skin. Blood gushed out, but his scream wasn't for the pain. No—it was for what he saw on the street.
Dozens. No, hundreds of them.
Spiritual beings.
Terrified, he dragged himself against a wall, trembling. He noticed something odd—they weren't noticing him. Slowly, he crawled closer, trying to understand.
That's when a flash of blue light burst beside him.
Kayode froze. The blue shimmer began to take the shape of a human figure. He staggered back, heart pounding, but he couldn't run anymore. He'd seen too much already.
Then the being laughed.
"What have you gotten yourself into, boy?"
The figure took on the form of a radiant man, glowing faintly with bluish-white energy.
"Curiosity. That thing always kills cats, doesn't it?" he chuckled.
"You could have just minded your business. That box didn't call you. Didn't speak to you. Didn't even shine. But no, you had to mess with it. You cracked it—only slightly—but it was enough. Spiritual energy slipped through that crack. And now it's in you."
Kayode, still terrified, stared at the glowing man.
"What… what do you mean…?"
"It means you're connected to something ancient now. That iron box? That's not just a box. That's a coffin. And inside it, is someone... very important."
The figure stepped forward, placing a glowing hand on Kayode's head.
"I'm sorry for the late introduction. You humans… you've had so many great-great-great-great-grandfathers, I've lost count. But some still remember me. They call me the God of Creation, Civilization, and Humanity—Obatala."
He gave a wry smile.
"Ring a bell? Of course not. But hey, count your stars lucky. I happened to be nearby when you messed up."
"Wha–what's in the box?" Kayode asked weakly.
Obatala raised an eyebrow.
"You really don't know? That's Ogun. The God of Iron."
He sighed deeply, folding his arms.
"You just couldn't let sleeping gods lie, could you? Had to wake them up. Well, technically, you didn't wake him—you cracked the coffin. That allowed the ambient spiritual energy to leak inside. And some of it entered you."
"W-what happens now?"
Obatala squinted.
"Now? You survive, if you can. I've been quiet a long time. Silent. But thanks to you, I had to step back in. Some will love what's coming. Some won't. As for me… I'm neutral. But before I disappear, I'll give you something—advice."
"W-what do I do?"
"Run. Run as fast as you can, back to where the box is. If he hasn't come out yet, good. If he has—talk to him. Only Ogun can take the energy out of you. It's his."
And just like that, Obatala vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air.
Kayode got up. He didn't know how, but he felt... stronger. He started running, faster than he'd ever run before. His legs didn't hurt. His stamina seemed endless. The pain in his broken knee? Gone. Or maybe it didn't matter anymore.
As he neared the road, a blaring car horn tore through the night. Kayode looked up. Too late.
Boom.
The car passed through him.
He gasped—but felt nothing.
That's when it hit him.
"I… I'm a spirit…"
He dropped to the ground, confused, his mind racing. But even as a spirit, he dragged himself forward, crawling desperately toward his workplace.
Then—a blast.
A BOOM, like a bomb going off.
He looked up.
"Don't tell me…"
Let's go back in time.
At that moment, in the company where the mysterious iron box was stored, the box cracked completely.
Light burst forth. Out stepped a man—handsome, black-skinned, in his twenties, his muscles defined like a sculpted god, hair thick and flowing like a warrior from ancient days.
He opened his eyes, scanning the area.
Then he whispered to himself:
"The irons… they no longer whisper. They speak bo
ldly. What is this world I've awoken into?"