Night settled over the city.
Quiet.
It should have been a peaceful night.
Streetlights dimmed.
Cars thinned.
Voices faded.
Everything slowed.
Everything except him.
Shango stood in the dark of his room.
A small bag rested beside him.
Not much inside.
Clothes.
A little money.
Nothing important.
Nothing that mattered more than what he was leaving behind.
He looked around once more.
The walls.
The bed.
The small things he never noticed before.
Now they felt…
Distant.
Like they already belonged to someone else.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"…Time to leave."
He spoke.
Soft.
But firm.
Shango steeled himself.
He picked up the bag.
Turned.
And stepped out.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
Every sound felt louder than it should.
Each step—
Measured.
Careful.
He moved slowly toward the stairs.
Paused.
Looked down.
The living room light was still on.
His parents.
Still awake.
Talking quietly.
Normal.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like nothing was ending.
Shango stood there.
Frozen.
For a moment—
He almost went down.
Almost said something.
Anything.
"Don't."
He said to himself.
If he spoke—
He wouldn't leave.
And if he didn't leave—
They would find him or hurt those closest to him.
Shango exhaled slowly.
Then turned away.
Step by step—
He moved toward the back door.
Not the front.
Never the front.
The handle turned silently.
The door opened.
Cool air rushed in.
Night.
Open.
Unknown.
He stepped outside.
And closed the door behind him.
Softly.
Carefully.
Like he wasn't trying to wake anything.
But something was already awake.
The moment his foot touched the ground—
He felt it.
A shift.
Subtle.
But real.
Like something had been waiting.
"You feel that?" he said quietly.
Nkiru who had been waiting outside, didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"Yes."
A pause.
"They noticed."
Far away—
"He's moving."
"Confirmed."
A brief silence.
Then—
"Don't lose him."
Back on the street—
Shango adjusted the strap of his bag.
Looked down the road.
Left.
Right.
It all looked the same.
But it wasn't.
Not anymore.
"…Where do we go?" he asked.
Nkiru stepped forward slightly.
"Anywhere but here."
Not helpful.
But honest.
Shango let out a quiet breath.
Then—
He started walking.
The city felt different at night.
Less crowded.
More open.
But also—
Less forgiving.
Every shadow stretched longer.
Every sound carried further.
And every movement felt like it was being watched.
They didn't speak much.
There wasn't anything to say.
After a while—
Shango slowed.
Something felt off.
Not like before.
Not heavy.
Not overwhelming.
Just—
Wrong.
"Stop," he said.
Nkiru did.
"What is it?"
Shango didn't answer.
He was listening.
Not with his ears.
With something else.
Something he didn't understand.
A faint movement.
Ahead.
Too quiet to be normal.
Too controlled to be random.
Then—
A figure stepped out from the shadows.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Watching.
Not a civilian.
Not afraid.
A cultivator.
He wasn't wearing the same uniform as before.
No structure.
No authority.
Just presence.
Sharp.
Focused.
Dangerous.
"…You're far from where you should be," the man said.
His voice was relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Shango didn't respond.
Didn't move.
The man's gaze sharpened slightly.
Then—
He smiled.
Not friendly.
Interested.
"I saw the video," he continued. "Didn't believe it at first."
A step forward.
Now closer.
"Still don't."
Nkiru shifted slightly.
Shango felt it.
She was ready to move.
"You should leave," Shango said.
The man laughed quietly.
"Leave?"
Another step.
"No."
A pause.
"I think I'll take a closer look."
The air changed.
Not heavy.
Not crushing.
But sharp.
Like something had been unsheathed.
Energy gathered around the man.
Visible.
Controlled.
Structured.
This was a cultivator.
Clear.
Defined.
Different.
Shango's chest tightened slightly.
Not from fear.
From understanding.
This was what the others had.
And yet—
It felt nothing like what was inside him.
"…Interesting," the man murmured."You're not reacting like a cultivator."
Another step.
"Let's see why."
He moved.
Fast.
Not a blur.
But faster than any normal person should be.
Shango barely had time to react.
His body moved instinctively.
Back.
Just enough.
The strike missed him by inches.
Too close.
"Good," the man said."You can at least move."
He didn't stop.
Another step.
Another attack.
Shango raised his arm.
Not trained.
Not controlled.
Just—
Instinct.
Blue lightning flared.
Wild.
Unstable.
The cultivator's eyes widened—
Just slightly.
Their forces collided.
And for a split second—
The difference became clear.
One was structured.
The other—
Was not.
The street cracked beneath them.