The sky wasn't supposed to bleed, but that night it did.
Crater Lane was silent now. Rex's body lay still in the dark, his blood soaking into the concrete like the ground had been waiting to drink it. A life that once terrified the streets now just another stain on the floor. That's how quick legends died.
Dre didn't say a word.
He stared down at what used to be Oga Rex—monster, tyrant, killer—and felt nothing. Not pride. Not joy. Not even relief.
Just... nothing.
Ghost stood a few feet behind, watching him. "You sure it had to be like that?"
Dre's voice came low. "There was no other way."
Ghost didn't argue. He just nodded and turned away.
The two of them moved silently through the warehouse, stepping over dead bodies, shattered crates, spent shells. It smelled like smoke and metal and death.
"Elric's running scared now," Ghost muttered. "We hurt him. Bad."
Dre paused. "Not enough. Not yet."
Outside, Tomi was waiting by the van. He looked shaken. He'd never seen Rex before—at least not that close. And definitely not that dead.
"Is it done?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Dre climbed into the van without looking back. "Start the engine."
They drove through the city in silence. Lagos at night was still buzzing, alive in a way the dead never could be. People laughed on the sidewalks, unaware of the war that was crawling beneath their feet. The war that was about to erupt like thunder.
Tomi glanced back from the front seat. "We've been tracking Elric's digital footprint. He's not running. He's relocating. Deep into the mainland. Heavy security. Militia. Unmarked vehicles."
"He's digging in," Ghost said. "He knows he's next."
Dre didn't blink. "Good. Let him build a castle. I'll still burn it down."
They parked at a hidden spot near the old train yard. That was where they had set up the fallback base—maps on the walls, wires hanging from the ceiling, a whiteboard full of names and red lines.
Dre walked to the board and drew a line straight through Rex's name.
Next to it, Elric's name stood alone.
Then he sat.
And for the first time that night, he let himself feel.
---
He remembered his mother's face.
Her hands, calloused from work. Her voice, hoarse from raising a son and surviving a city that didn't love her.
He remembered coming home and finding the door open. The house torn apart. Her body cold.
The laughter from Elric's boys.
That memory never faded.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, his fists were clenched again.
"I'm going to kill him," he said. "And not quick. Not like Rex. Elric dies slow."
Ghost looked over from the corner. "We'll need more firepower."
Tomi pulled up a screen. "We've got options. Elric's using abandoned ministry buildings in the outskirts as a base. Cameras everywhere. Drones. If we want to hit him, we need a plan. A real one."
"Then build it," Dre said. "We hit him before he feels safe."
Ghost moved toward the weapon table. "You know he's not just scared. He's desperate now. He might pull civilians into this. Use them as shields."
Dre's face hardened. "Then I cut through everything. Even the noise."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Tomi said, "There's one more thing."
Dre looked up.
"Miracle's awake."
The room went still.
"She's asking for you," Tomi added.
Dre didn't wait. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out the door.
---
The clinic wasn't far. Just a room above an old bar, where the walls were peeling and the ceiling leaked when it rained.
But it was quiet. Safe.
Dre stepped in.
She was sitting up, bandaged, bruised—but alive.
When their eyes met, everything slowed.
"You always show up after the storm," she said, her voice dry but steady.
He didn't know what to say. He walked over and sat beside her, eyes locked on hers.
"You went after Rex," she said.
"He's gone."
Silence.
She nodded slowly. "And Elric?"
"Next."
Her hand found his. Weak, trembling, but real.
"Don't let the war kill you before he does," she whispered. "Promise me that."
Dre didn't speak.
But his grip tightened.
That was all the promise she needed.
---
Back at the train yard, Ghost stared at the board.
Two names left.
Elric.
And under it… in faint red ink... another name they hadn't said out loud yet.
The sponsor.
Whoever had been bankrolling Elric's rise. Whoever had been watching from the shadows while blood spilled and boys died in the gutters.
That war hadn't even started yet.
But first...
They had to bring Elric to his knees.
And Dre was already sharpening the blade.