The road did not end.
It only changed.
Dirt gave way to gravel.
Gravel thinned into patches of worn earth, pressed down by years of passing feet, wheels, and time.
Shango walked in silence.
Not because he had nothing to say.
Because nothing he asked seemed to matter.
The man ahead of him, the man now known by the alias, Onye nkuzi, had made that clear without saying it directly.
So, Shango watched instead.
The sky was lighter now.
Morning had come without him noticing.
Or maybe he had just stopped paying attention to time.
"…You don't get tired?" Shango asked.
Onye nkuzi did not turn.
"…Everyone does," he replied.
A pause.
"…And so do I, I simply have more in the tank than most."
That was unexpected.
Shango's curiosity about the old man only got more intense.
They kept walking.
The road curved slightly ahead.
And for the first time since they left the city—
There were signs of people.
Small ones.
Footprints.
Fresh.
Worn wooden stakes marking something that used to be a boundary.
A broken cart by the side of the road.
Left behind.
Not abandoned long ago.
But not recent either.
Shango slowed slightly.
"…We're not alone out here."
Onye nkuzi hummed.
"…You're quite the observant lad."
It wasn't praise.
Just acknowledgment.
The road opened up.
Not into a town.
Not fully.
But something close.
A settlement.
Small.
Scattered buildings.
Wood, metal sheets, patched roofs.
Smoke rising from somewhere deeper inside.
Life.
Quiet, but present.
Shango's eyes moved.
People were there.
Working.
Talking.
Living.
But the moment they noticed the two of them—
Something shifted.
Subtle.
But clear.
Conversations didn't stop.
They lowered.
Eyes didn't stare.
They glanced.
Quick.
Careful.
Measured.
Shango felt it.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Awareness.
"…Feels like a lot of eyes are on us," he said.
Onye nkuzi walked forward.
Unbothered.
"…Yes, it is as you say."
Shango inhaled and then exhaled.
The old man stepped into the settlement without slowing.
"Well... what are you waiting for?" the old man said.
Shango followed.
The ground here was packed tight.
Walked on often.
The air smelled different.
Smoke.
Food.
Metal.
Normal.
And yet—
Not.
A group of men stood near a wooden structure.
Talking.
They paused as Shango passed.
One of them spoke.
Quiet.
But not quiet enough.
"Strangers huh"
Another sheepishly smiled.
"Maybe they got money."
"We should ask for alms, Boss"
While busy discussing, Shango heard it all.
Every word.
Even the ones meant to be hidden.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"…They are about to make trouble with us," he said.
Onye nkuzi glanced at a stall as they passed.
Not at Shango.
"…Good, we actually needed money." the old man said.
That answer came as a shock to Shango.
"…What?"
The old man stopped.
Just for a moment.
Long enough to pick up something from the stall.
A small piece of roasted yam.
He handed it to Shango without looking at him.
"…Eat."
Shango stared at it.
"…What are you going to do?"
"…Just eat."
A pause.
"…And observe."
Shango took it.
Not because he agreed.
Because he was hungry.
He hadn't realized it until now.
They kept walking.
Further into the settlement.
The deeper they went—
The more obvious it became.
The men from before had trailed them from behind.
It wasn't poor either.
Shango felt it.
A sharp feeling.
Hostile.
Vile.
Strong.
"…There are people trailing us," he said quietly.
Onye nkuzi didn't stop.
"…Man planeth, fate doeth, lad."
Shango did not understand.
"It means, fate is inevitable."
They turned a corner.
And saw them.
The four men trailing them.
Armed.
Impulsive.
Violent.
They didn't look special.
Didn't look powerful.
"…Hey old man, hand over your belongings," one of them said.
Onye nkuzi finally stopped walking.
"…No," he replied.
A pause.
"…What did you say?"
The old man's gaze became sharper.
The thug stagger backwards.
The old man's gaze was fierce.
Waiting.
Not curious.
Not cautious.
But patient.
Aware.
Shango just watched.
The rogue cultivator from before had steeled Shango so much now that a group of thugs didn't shake him.
"…Move," Onye nkuzi said.
Too late.
One lunged.
Fast.
Desperate.
Untrained.
Onye nkuzi moved.
Barely.
His hand shifted.
Redirected the strike and knocked down the thug.
The attacker stumbled past him
And collapsed.
The others froze.
"Old man, you just made a wrong move." the boss of the thugs said.
"Boys! Rough the old man and his grandson up, Dinner's on me"
Excited, everyone rushed at the old man and shango but were instantly subdued by the old man.
Hurt.
Collapsed.
The thugs rolled on the floor.
The old man stood above them.
"I will spare your meaningless lives if you hand over all your money." the old man said as he smirked.
Defeated, they could do nothing but obey.
They took shango and the old man to their stash.
They had piled up a large sum of money in their base, Shango wondered how much people they had robbed for this.
Since there were no proper authorities around, the old man decided to forgive them after taking enough for their travels,
He told them to use the rest to improve the village or the next time he sees them, they would see the gates of hell.
Scared.
Bruised.
They all nodded and agreed to heed his words.
The scene ends with Shango and the old man continuing their journey as they leave the village.