The Okusuwei Village Chief sat in the town hall. His fingers drummed against the wooden table. The Morduk had been a plague on their village for months, and each time it attacked, it left devastation in its wake.
It wasn't just the homes it destroyed, nor the fields it trampled. Every time, it took an elder.
One by one, the village elders had vanished into the night, dragged off by the beast—never to be seen again. And the casualties… they had been too many. Every attack brought death, destruction, and fear.
They had saved up for a long time to hire a divine family—a Hand Major, at least—to deal with it properly. They had tried the Madarikans first. They failed. Now, even with a family involved, things weren't looking much better.
And as he had feared… he was right.
The Morduk was a nightmare.
It loomed in the clearing, its dark, plated body battered but unbroken despite Deji and Tor's relentless attacks. Simi stood further back, ready with medical support, even though Deji had been annoyed she left Akenzua alone. But before he could say anything, Akenzua limped into view, holding the healing craft against his chest, the faint glow of its power pulsing with each breath he took. The pain was evident in his every movement, but he didn't join the fight. Instead, he sat on a broken log at the edge of the battlefield, watching
Deji clicked his tongue and refocused. They couldn't drag this out any longer. Their divine energy was running low. They needed to finish this now.
He glanced at Tor, and Tor met his gaze.
They didn't need words. They knew the plan.
They had used this strategy before against Fallen creatures—some Fallen creatures had a core, the point where its essence was most concentrated. If they struck it precisely with enough divine energy, they could take the beast down instantly.
This time was no different. They had already figured out where the Morduk's core was.
Tor would create the opening.
Deji would finish it.
Tor dashed forward first, his movements sharp and relentless as he forced the Morduk into a defensive stance. Meanwhile, Deji weaved between the attacks, lurking in Tor's shadow, waiting.
Then—the opening came.
Tor slammed his cinders into the Morduk's knee. The beast staggered, its balance breaking for just a second. And that second was all Deji needed.
He sprang from the ground, twisting midair, his dagger aimed precisely at the back of the Morduk's head.
The blade sank deep.
The Morduk let out a guttural roar, its body convulsing violently as it crumbled to the ground. The villagers, watching from a distance, erupted into cheers.
Deji exhaled sharply, stepping back. The beast was still twitching. He raised his dagger one last time and sliced through its neck.
Silence.
Then—the sound of victory.
The villagers rushed forward, celebrating, relieved. The Chief let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This was why they had saved their resources. This was why they had struggled to get a family involved. And it had finally paid off.
As the villagers emerged to start cleaning up the wreckage, the Chief stood beside Deji, discussing the contract and payment.
Nearby, Simi tended to Tor's wounds, and the night, once filled with battle, slowly settled back into uneasy peace.
I was still seated at the corner, watching. The battle was over. The Morduk had fallen. The danger had passed.
This was my chance to leave.
My body ached from the hit I'd taken earlier, but it wasn't unbearable. I could slip away now, unnoticed, before anyone decided to question me further.
Yet, something held me back.
That sound.
Right before the first Morduk died, it had made a strange noise—not quite words, but something close. I didn't understand the language, but understood the intent.
The unease crept through my bones, but I pushed it aside. Maybe it was just my head playing tricks on me. Anyways, I had to leave. Now.
Then the ground shook.
A deep, rhythmic tremor, growing stronger with each second.
The villagers froze. Their celebrations turned to panic as the realization hit. The sound of another Morduk—approaching fast.
The villagers turned and ran back to the hall, terror gripping them.
Deji and Tor, barely standing from exhaustion, forced themselves into position. Their Divine Crafts were raised, their bodies tense. This was the last thing they needed.
"We barely took one down," Tor muttered, sweat dripping from his brow.
"This wasn't part of the contract," Deji snapped at the Village Chief. "You said there was only one."
The Chief looked just as horrified. "There was! Morduks never hunt in pairs. They hunt alone. This—this doesn't make sense!"
But it did.
Because there was only one exception—the only time Morduks ever hunted together.
Deji's stomach twisted as the realization sank in.
Before he could speak, the tremors stopped.
Silence.
The sun had nearly set, the dimming light casting long, twisting shadows across the ruined village.
Deji's grip tightened on his dagger. It was watching them.
Waiting.
The silence stretched for minutes. No movement. No sound. Just the weight of unseen eyes in the growing darkness.
Tor exhaled sharply. "I'm checking around."
"Don't," Deji ordered. "It's trying to lure us out. If we leave the villagers unprotected, it'll—"
A sound.
A faint shuffling noise, coming from the wreckage of a collapsed hut.
Tor's head snapped toward it. "Did you hear that?"
Deji nodded.
Another sound.
Closer this time.
Tor swore under his breath. "Something's there."
Deji stayed still, watching, waiting. But Tor had already made up his mind.
Before Deji could stop him, Tor moved toward the wreckage.
He stepped over the broken wood, pushing aside debris, scanning the shadows.
Nothing.
His grip tightened on his weapon. "Strange… I could swear I heard—"
The wreckage exploded.
The second Morduk struck like lightning—tearing through the remains of the hut, lunging straight for Tor.
Tor reacted fast, pivoting to shield himself—but Deji was faster.
In a blur, he grabbed Tor's arm and yanked him back, just in time to lessen the impact. The creature's claws still caught him.
Tor collapsed to the ground, panting, gripping his side.
The villagers screamed as the second Morduk stepped into clear view.
It looked identical to the one they had just killed.
Deji clenched his jaw. A twin.
Tor groaned in pain, blood seeping through his fingers. The Morduk's claws had pierced deep If it had been any ordinary villager, they would've lost the entire lower half of their body.
And if it had been Major Deji instead… the damage wouldn't have been this bad.
Simi rushed forward, immediately working to stop the bleeding.
Deji stared at Tor's injury, his fists clenching.
This is bad.
They were out of fighting power. Tor was down, his blood darkening the dirt beneath him while he received treatment from Simi. Deji was the only hope they had left. It was a standoff between him and the Morduk, its eyes burning with an unnatural fury.
Deji gripped his dagger tightly, his stance unwavering. This was far beyond the scope of his contract, but there was no time to think about that now. The Morduk's glare held something chilling—an almost vengeful gleam, like it sought retribution for the life of its fallen sibling.
The villagers… they would not be spared, he thought, as his eyes scanned the area, making sure no one was caught in the crossfire.
He had to fight. There was no time to request backup.
He was the village's only hope for survival.
Deji inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breath and focus on his divine essence. Its energy was low, but he couldn't afford to back down now.
"I am Deji. I've been in worse situations and come out victorious. I will not fail now."
As if sensing his resolve, the Morduk charged, its massive form closing the distance with terrifying speed. With a roar, it collided with him, and the battle had begun.
This wasn't like the earlier fight with the dead Morduk. This was determination versus rage. Vengeance against duty.
Deji had far less Divine Energy now. That forced him to be cautious, more calculated. He moved with sharp precision, conserving what little power he had left. The Morduk, on the other hand, was relentless—striking with fury, giving Deji no room to breathe. For every hit Deji managed to land, the Morduk returned at least three—each one sharper, heavier, and more aggressive.
He grimaced. His dagger was dry. No poison left. He'd used it all during the last battle.
The villagers watched in silence, hearts pounding. They all knew—their survival rested on this fight.
One of the elders leaned in, whispering urgently, "Should we call for a Madarikan?"
The village chief shook his head. "We've already exhausted what little we had getting the Hands. You know how those Madarikans are—they won't lift a finger unless there's something in it for them."
He sighed. "No. We trust in the Major. We have no choice."
Simi sucked her teeth. Everything had fallen on her Major's shoulders. And all she could do now was keep Tor alive. She hated it. She wished she could stand beside Deji, fight with him, bleed with him. But instead, she cursed her body and her limits—as she stared at the dirt. She couldn't watch anymore.
And truthfully, it wasn't looking good for Major Deji.
Each blow from the Morduk chipped away at the villagers' hope. It had already landed two brutal hits—one near Deji's shoulder, the other across his thigh. He was starting to slow down.
Even though Deji's aim was sharp, the Morduk had speed and stamina on its side. It dodged, ducked, and twisted around every precise strike—and made sure its own landed clean.
But Deji kept going.
Because he only needed one thing: one shot at the core.
If this twin was anything like the first, its core would be in the same spot. All he had to do was hold out long enough to hit it.
Just one opening.
One breath.
One perfect moment.
Then it would be over.
Tor slowly regained consciousness. His eyes opened to see his Major caught in a tight spot. He tried to rise, but the pain pinned him down again, sharp and unbearable.
No… he cursed, though the words never made it past his lips. All he could do was watch—just like the villagers.
Pathetic.
While his Major fought with everything he had, carrying the weight of everyone's life on his shoulders, Tor lay there, useless.
If I had just listened… if I hadn't rushed in so carelessly.
This battle should've been his too.
At this rate… I'll be a Hand forever, he muttered bitterly under his breath.
Just then, the Morduk landed a crushing blow to Deji's chest. It sent him tumbling through the dirt, crashing hard into the side of the village hall.
Simi didn't hesitate.
She left Tor's side and ran to Deji with her healing craft already glowing in her palm. She dropped beside him, tense but calm, applying the craft as she held him firmly.
Blood poured from Deji's mouth. His body was broken—bruised, battered, struggling for breath.
"You're not looking good, Major," Simi said softly, trying to keep her voice steady.
The Morduk stalked toward them, slow and steady.
The villagers screamed.
Deji stirred. "No…" he groaned, trying to sit up.
Simi held him down. "You need to stay down. Please—"
"If I do," he interrupted, forcing breath into his lungs, "we all die."
He shook his head, refusing to give in. He focused inward, reconnected to his Divine essence trying to garner any divine energy from it. His breathing steadied.
"I can't remember the last time I was pushed this far," he whispered.
He reached into his hip holster and pulled out a small wrap—grey, scaly, like the shed skin of a cobra.
Simi and Tor both recognized it instantly.
"No," Simi warned. "That's your pointholder. Your energy is too weak—you can't use it now. It'll drain your essence. It might even kill you."
But Deji was already certain. He understood the divine essence better and knew it was a risk he could afford to take.
"I have to."
He wrapped it tightly around his right hand, where he held his dagger. As it bound itself to his skin, the blade flickered to life, glowing faintly. He felt it instantly—a chunk of his essence being consumed.
Still, he smiled.
Then he launched.
The villagers gasped. For a moment, it was as if Deji hadn't just fought a grueling battle. His movements were fluid, sharp—like a viper lunging through tall grass.
"He moves like a snake," the village chief murmured, eyes wide in amazement.
Deji's speed, his precision—both had shifted. Every strike landed, exactly where he aimed, and with brutal force. Blow after blow, he pushed the Morduk back, carving through its defenses.
Just one chance.
One opening, and it's over.
And then, like he'd willed it into existence—the moment came.
The Morduk left its back exposed.
Deji didn't hesitate.
Up he went.
The villagers held their breath.
And down he came—blade first—straight at the back of its head.
Crack!
A deafening thud.
The Morduk collapsed to the earth.
For a heartbeat, everything was silent.
Then the village exploded into celebration.
Deji dropped to his knees, breathless. He couldn't even move.
Simi reached him first, throwing his arm over her shoulder, helping him up.
He'd done it again.
At that moment, I felt something I hadn't in a long time.
For the first time in what felt like years, I genuinely admired someone—and that feeling alone was enough to pull me to my feet. Standing quietly and acknowledging what I had just witnessed. The Major had earned it.
The whole village breathed in relief.
Until a sound shattered it.
A low, guttural roar echoed across the village.
The third Morduk stepped into view—towering at the edge of the clearing, its gaze sweeping across the fallen bodies of its kin.
Then it screamed.
A roar of pure rage.
The relief was gone.
The villagers' strength vanished with it. So did their hope.
It was over.
All the Hands were down—broken, bleeding, or barely conscious.
Deji was on his knees, struggling to remain upright.
Tor still lay on the ground, unable to move.
There was nothing left.
That's when Simi stood up.
She didn't flinch. She didn't speak. She just rose.
If there was ever a time for her to step forward—it was now.
Deji reached for her arm. "You're not a fighter, Simi. You'll get yourself killed."
"Then I'll die trying," she replied, voice steady. "We're going to die either way. At least let me try. Let me be useful—even if it goes against what I'm supposed to be."
Deji didn't stop her again. He couldn't.
He was too broken, too confused.
Three Morduk? That made no sense. Two were already unheard of.
Something was off. Deeply wrong. But what?
The Morduk charged forward.
The villagers dropped to their knees—some in prayer, others in despair.
Even the village chief staggered, unable to remain on his feet.
It was all for nothing.
If they had just let the first Morduk take someone, maybe that would have been the lesser price.
But now… it would be a massacre.
I saw it.
All of it.
The look on their faces—the fear, the frozen panic.
It was the same look.
The same energy.
The same terror.
The same helplessness.
I was right there again.
Right back in the past.
It hit me so hard, I didn't even realize I had moved—
Not until I found myself speaking to the chief.
"Palm wine," I said.
The chief blinked. "Palm wine? You're seriously thinking of getting drunk now?"
But then his face shifted. He thought about it.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
At least it would dull the mind before the slaughter.
"We've got a little left," he said quietly.
I nodded. "That's all I need."
He pointed toward a small hut near the village hall. "Check my hut."
I turned without another word and walked briskly.