The thrill of victory still coursed through Olutola's veins as he returned to his modest apartment in Lagos. Despite the hour, the streets were alive with activity—vendors shouting their wares, children playing, and the constant hum of traffic. Lagos never slept, and neither did the dangers that lurked in its shadows.
Olutola paused at the entrance of his building, glancing around. A group of men loitered nearby, their eyes following him with a mixture of curiosity and malice. He recognized the type—low-level thugs looking to make trouble. He tightened his grip on his belongings, prepared for anything.
As he made his way up the stairs, he could hear snippets of conversation from his neighbors—gossip, arguments, and laughter blending into a familiar cacophony. He reached his door and entered quickly, locking it behind him.
Inside, the silence was a stark contrast to the noise outside. He took a moment to savor it, then set about making himself comfortable. He placed the relic on his desk, its glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.
He decided to unwind. He retrieved his stash of Igbo and began rolling a joint with practiced ease. He lit it, inhaling deeply, and let out a contented sigh. "Niiiiiice one," he murmured, feeling the familiar relaxation wash over him.
He turned on his Bluetooth speaker and connected it to his phone. A few taps later, his Spotify playlist filled the room with soothing tunes. As the music played, he reclined on his couch, taking another drag.
His mind drifted back to the dungeon, replaying the battle in vivid detail. The power he had felt when the shadows responded to his command was intoxicating. He needed to understand this new ability better.
With the relic glowing softly on his desk, Olutola focused on the shadows around him. He extended his hand, willing them to take shape. To his surprise, a figure began to form—a shadowy warrior, its features indistinct but clearly humanoid. The warrior knelt before him, awaiting orders.
Olutola's eyes widened. This was real. He had the power to summon and control shadow warriors. He couldn't help but laugh—a short, incredulous sound. "This is insane," he muttered.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion outside. He walked to the window and looked down to see the same group of thugs harassing a young man. They had him cornered, demanding money.
Olutola's eyes narrowed. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing. He exited his apartment, moving swiftly down the stairs. As he stepped outside, the thugs turned to face him, their expressions shifting from annoyance to recognition.
"Well, well, if it isn't the new hunter," one of them sneered. "What do you want, hero?"
Olutola didn't respond immediately. Instead, he summoned the shadow warrior he had just created. It materialized beside him, its presence sending a wave of fear through the group of thugs.
"Leave him alone," Olutola said, his voice cold. "Now."
The thugs hesitated, clearly unnerved by the shadow warrior. But their leader, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, wasn't so easily intimidated. He stepped forward, drawing a knife.
"You think you can scare us with your tricks? You're just a hunter," the leader spat.
Olutola's eyes hardened. He gestured, and the shadow warrior moved, disarming the thug in a blur of motion. The knife clattered to the ground, and the thug staggered back, his face pale.
"Last warning," Olutola said, his voice like ice. "Leave. Now."
The thugs exchanged glances, then fled, not wanting to test their luck any further. The young man they had been harassing slumped against the wall, his eyes wide with gratitude.
"Thank you, sir," he stammered. "I... I don't know what I would have done."
Olutola nodded. "Just be careful. Lagos isn't safe at night."
He turned and headed back to his apartment, the shadow warrior following silently. Inside, he dispelled the warrior, watching as it dissolved back into the shadows. He returned to his couch, picking up his joint and taking another drag.
He couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration. The power he wielded was immense, and he knew he had only scratched the surface of its potential. But with great power came great responsibility, and he was determined to use it wisely.
As the night wore on, Olutola's thoughts turned to the future. He had the means to protect himself and others, but he also had enemies—people who would stop at nothing to control or destroy him. He needed to stay vigilant, to keep growing stronger.
He closed his eyes, letting the music and the Igbo take him to a place of calm. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he could rest, knowing that he had made a difference today.