The air in the grand chamber of Ezego's palace was thick with tension. Braziers burned low, casting flickering shadows across the intricately carved walls. The scent of incense and oil did little to mask the underlying stench of blood—the lingering remnants of Ezego's wrath from earlier.
At the center of the room, kneeling before Ezego, head lowered, was Udemba.
Despite his injuries, his body was rigid, his expression unreadable. The Red Claw did not bow often, but before him, before Ezego, the Ezulike of Nri-Ulo, resistance was foolishness.
The man before him stood tall, draped in robes of deep crimson and gold, his presence suffocating. His face was unreadable, but his silence was far worse than his anger.
"Udemba," he finally spoke, his voice calm—too calm.
Udemba's fingers curled against his knee. "Yes, my Ezego."
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate.
"Tell me everything."
Udemba did not hesitate.
"We pursued the target, Chizoba, into the Valley of Nsogbu as ordered. We tracked him and his companion, a woman wielding Iron King relics. Omole Kehinde."
Ezego's gaze sharpened slightly, but he said nothing.
Udemba continued.
"The battle began with an ambush. We surrounded them. They had no knowledge of our approach. Yet—"
His jaw clenched.
"Chizoba reacted immediately. His instincts… were too sharp. Almost unnatural. He evaded the first strike before it landed. Omole provided covering fire with her weapons. Her projectiles tore through our vanguard before we could fully engage."
"You're telling me," Ezego said, his voice still quiet, "that a half-blood and a scavenger forced my finest warriors into retreat?"
Udemba flinched. "No, my Ezego. We engaged them directly. The battle was ours to win."
"And yet you stand before me empty-handed."
Udemba swallowed, his pride burning in his chest.
"Chizoba fought differently than anticipated. His combat style was neither fully Chi nor Ase. He wielded both… but held back. Yet even restrained, his ability to heal himself mid-combat was unnatural."
Ezego's eyes narrowed. "Healing oneself is impossible without external aid."
"Yes, my Ezego. And yet… he did it. His wounds closed before my eyes. Not just surface wounds—deep cuts, broken bones. He fought as if he could not die."
A flicker of something unreadable passed over Ezego's face.
"And Omole Kehinde?" she asked.
"She is dangerous in her own right," Udemba admitted. "Her weapons are unlike anything I have seen. Artifacts from the lost age. She fought with precision, with strategy. She is no ordinary scavenger."
He exhaled slowly, voice lowering.
"But Chizoba is the true threat. I have never seen a man fight as he does. There was something... unnatural about him."
Ezego was silent for a long moment.
Then, he turned, walking toward the far end of the chamber, where a massive mural of Nri-Ulo's past loomed over them. His fingers traced the ancient carvings—images of warriors, of kings, of gods.
"I have waited long for the one who would bear the blood of both worlds," he murmured, almost to herself.
He turned back to Udemba, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"And you are certain he has not awakened his full power?"
"Certain," Udemba confirmed. "He fights as if he fears his own strength. He seals himself."
A slow, knowing smile spread across Ezego's lips.
"Then we have time."
He gestured, and two guards stepped forward.
"Go. Recover. I will decide your punishment later."
Udemba bowed low before standing and making his way out, but Ezego's mind was already elsewhere.
"Chizoba," he murmured under her breath.
He had found him.
And he would make sure he had no choice but to unlock his power.
….......….
The alley was silent except for the watcher's ragged breaths. Chizoba held firm, his grip like iron around their wrist, but he didn't tighten it further.
"You're looking for the Riftborn, aren't you?"
Omo and Chizoba exchanged a glance.
"And what if we are?" Omo asked, flipping her dagger once before catching it smoothly. "You with them?"
The watcher shook their head furiously. "No. Never." Their voice trembled with something deeper than fear—hatred.
Chizoba loosened his grip slightly. "Then who are you?"
The watcher hesitated, then spoke, voice low and rough. "My name is Ife. And I want them dead."
Omo crossed her arms. "A lot of people want them dead. Why should we care?"
Ife clenched their fists. "Because I know where they are."
That got both their attention.
"Start talking," Chizoba said.
Ife exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling. "The Riftborn… they took everything from me. My family. My home." Their jaw tightened. "I thought they were just another cult. Just another group of madmen whispering about lost power. But they're more than that. They don't just talk about opening the Rift—they experiment with it. They use people like tools, break them, twist them, just to get closer to their so-called 'truth.'"
They looked down, voice almost breaking. "My brother was one of them."
Silence.
For a moment, Omo's confident smirk faded.
"One of them?" Chizoba asked carefully.
"Not by choice." Ife's hands curled into shaking fists. "They… took him. They dragged him into one of their hideouts. I tried to save him, but when I found him again, he wasn't—" Ife swallowed, shaking their head. "He wasn't my brother anymore. His body was alive, but his mind… it was gone. Like the Rift had swallowed everything inside of him and left behind an empty shell."
A cold silence settled between them.
Omo clicked her tongue, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Damn."
Chizoba narrowed his eyes. "And you think we're looking for them because…?"
Ife let out a bitter breath. "You're asking about them. You're searching the slums, the underbelly of Orun-Saa. That means you either want to join them or destroy them. And from the way you caught me just now?" Their lips curled into a smirk that didn't reach their eyes. "I don't think you're the kind looking to kneel before the Hollow Saint."
Omo chuckled. "Hah. You'd be right about that."
"So?" Ife met their gaze, determined. "Are you serious about taking them down, or not?"
Chizoba studied Ife for a long moment. Their eyes, shadowed with loss but burning with purpose, reminded him of someone else.
Someone who had also lost everything.
"We are," he said finally.
Ife straightened. "Then I'll take you to them."
…........
Ife led them through the twisting backstreets of Orun-Saa, weaving between crumbling alleyways and forgotten corridors where even the city's guards rarely tread. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the sandstone walls.
Omo walked slightly behind Ife, arms crossed, fingers tapping idly against the hilt of her dagger. Her gaze was sharp, constantly flickering to their surroundings and back to Ife. She didn't like this.
"We're just supposed to trust them?" she muttered, loud enough for Chizoba to hear but quiet enough that Ife wouldn't react. "This could be a trap."
Chizoba sighed, keeping pace beside her. "You're always this suspicious?"
"Being suspicious is how you stay alive." Omo shot him a side glance. "Trusting the wrong people will get you killed."
Chizoba hummed thoughtfully. "And yet, you trusted me enough to work together."
Omo scoffed. "I didn't trust you. I just had more pressing problems at the time."
Chizoba arched a brow. "So you still don't trust me?"
Omo didn't hesitate. "Not fully, no."
That response made Chizoba chuckle softly.
"We've fought together. Saved each other's lives. But you still think I'll stab you in the back?"
"I don't know." Omo shrugged. "It's only been a few days. Trust isn't something you just hand out, Chizoba. People are good at pretending. And if you let your guard down at the wrong time? That's it."
Chizoba considered her words. "You've been betrayed before."
Omo's steps faltered just a little before she continued walking. "Hasn't everyone?"
Chizoba didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked ahead at Ife, who was walking in silence, listening but not speaking.
"And yet, here you are," he said after a while. "Working with me. With Ife."
Omo exhaled through her nose. "Don't get it twisted. I'm here because I want to take down the Riftborn, not because I suddenly believe in trusting strangers."
"And yet you followed Ife."
"Because I'm not stupid. Ife has information we need. But that doesn't mean I won't put a blade in their back if they betray us."
Ife, still quiet, smirked faintly but didn't turn around.
Chizoba shook his head. "So that's your view on trust? Never give it freely, and always assume betrayal is around the corner?"
"I trust myself," Omo said simply. "That's enough."
Chizoba let the conversation settle, watching the way Omo's fingers never strayed far from her weapons.
Ife finally spoke up, voice even. "You talk like someone who's been betrayed before."
Omo glanced at Ife, eyes narrowing slightly.
"And you talk like someone who trusts too easily," she shot back.
Ife chuckled dryly. "Trust is a luxury, I'll give you that. But if you never trust anyone, you'll die alone."
Omo's lips curled slightly in amusement. "Better alone than dead because of someone else's lies."
Ife just shook their head, leading them deeper into the winding streets.
"We're almost there," Ife murmured. "Try not to kill me before then."
Omo huffed but didn't respond.
Chizoba, watching their exchange, simply smiled to himself.
Ife stopped in front of a seemingly abandoned structure, a crumbling warehouse hidden in the labyrinthine streets of Orun-Saa. The wooden doors were reinforced with rusted iron, the markings of old wards barely visible beneath the layers of dirt and decay.
"This is one of their hideouts," Ife said, voice low. "It should be empty right now, but there might be clues inside."
Omo didn't relax. She studied the structure with narrowed eyes, one hand resting on her hip where her pistol was holstered. "You sure about that?"
"As sure as I can be." Ife stepped forward and pressed a hand against the metal door. It groaned as they pushed it open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.
Chizoba stepped past Ife first, moving cautiously. His senses stretched outward, searching for any sign of life. For a moment, all he felt was silence. Then, as Omo and Ife followed him inside, the air grew heavy.
Something was wrong.
The moment they stepped fully inside, torches lining the walls flickered to life, casting eerie shadows over the room.
And then they saw them.
Dozens of figures stood motionless in the dim light, their bodies twisted and grotesque.
Once, they had been human. But now? Now they were something else entirely.
Their flesh had fused with metal—grotesque Iron King technology replacing limbs, stretching skin over rusted gears, and embedding glowing sigils deep into their exposed bones. Their faces were warped, mouths forced open by metallic braces, their eyes glowing with an unnatural blue light.
Omo felt her stomach churn. "Shit."
Chizoba's jaw tightened. "What have they done?"
"They've become Riftborn." Ife's voice was barely a whisper.
The creatures twitched.
Then, as one, they lunged.
The room exploded into chaos as the Riftborn charged with inhuman speed.
Chizoba was the first to react, stepping forward with a sweeping motion as arcs of energy crackled around his fingertips. He dodged the nearest creature's wild strike, flipping backward as its metal-clad arms smashed into the stone floor, cracking it on impact.
Omo fired her pistol, the bullet tearing through the skull of one of the creatures. It staggered but didn't fall—only jerked its head back into place, the hole sealing itself with grotesque mechanical precision.
"Well, that's horrifying," she muttered, already reloading.
Ife barely managed to roll away from another attacker, breathing heavily. "We need to get out of here!"
"No arguments there!" Omo snapped, spinning around and slashing at a Riftborn's throat with her dagger. Sparks flew as the blade scraped against metal, barely cutting through the reinforced plating beneath.
Chizoba gritted his teeth. His fingers burned with power, but he was hesitant—if he used too much, he risked losing control. But if he held back, they'd be overwhelmed.
No choice.
He exhaled sharply, then surged forward.
His palm struck the chest of the nearest Riftborn, and a blast of raw force erupted outward. The creature was sent flying, smashing into the others like a collapsing wall.
"There's too many of them!" Ife shouted.
Omo cursed under her breath. "We need another way out—"
Before she could finish, one of the Riftborn raised its arm. The metal plating along its forearm twisted and shifted, forming a primitive but deadly cannon.
The sound of charging energy filled the air.
Chizoba's eyes widened. "Move—!"
The blast struck the ground beneath them, and the entire hideout trembled as the floor cracked apart.
And then they were falling.