As the thunderous hooves of Ajaka's steed echoed through the battlefield, the wind roared in tandem with their breakneck speed. His horse, a creature of pure muscle and determination, galloped as if time itself struggled to keep pace. The air crackled with energy as they closed in on the enemies, the ground trembling beneath them.
In the midst of the chaos, shots whizzed past. Ajaka, focused and relentless, guided his horse with unwavering determination. Suddenly, a fatal bullet pierced the air, finding its mark in the noble creature beneath him. The once-majestic horse faltered, its strength waning with each weakening stride and with a loud neigh it fell.
Ajaka, undeterred, leaped from the dying horse, rolling to his feet with grace. The battle raged on around him, but his gaze remained fixed on the larger threat ahead. Unfazed by the loss, he pressed forward.
"Do your worst" he snarled menacingly.
Ajaka's eyes blazed with an unwavering resolve as he faced the oncoming adversaries. Each step forward was a declaration of his unyielding determination to save his sister. The clash of steel became a symphony, his every movement purposeful and decisive.
"Hgmf" Kinri humphed "bring me his head"
The enemies, recognizing the threat, abandoned ranged tactics and charged towards Ajaka with a ferocity matching his own. Their weapons glinted in the sunlight, but Ajaka, fueled by a singular purpose, met their onslaught with a calculated grace. His spear moved like an extension of his will, parrying strikes and delivering precise counters.
Amidst the chaos, Olu Awo began to chant, preparing a spell that could tip the scales.
An obscure name being the emphasis of the spell. Ajaka could not hear the name nor those he know the spirit from which the Priests were channeling power or the effects of the spell, sensing the impending danger, accelerated his efforts. Each swing of his blade was a testament to the determination and urgency that fueled him. The battlefield became a dance of blades, and Ajaka, the relentless protagonist, danced with a determination that surpassed the imminent threat of magic and steel.
Surrounded by two dozen adversaries, Ajaka stood like a lone sentinel against the rising tide of foes. The battlefield pulsed with a palpable tension as swords clashed and spears pierced, yet Ajaka's skill and agility coupled with his spell forms a unbreakable shield. His movements were a mesmerizing blend of evasion and calculated strikes, weaving through the onslaught with an almost supernatural finesse.
Despite the overwhelming odds, the enemies found themselves unable to land a single blow on Ajaka. His defensive prowess left them frustrated and bewildered, creating a stalemate on the blood-soaked ground. The air crackled with the tension of a confrontation where offense met an unyielding defense.
As the Ifa Priest's incantations intensified, the stakes soared higher. Ajaka's relentless resistance became a symbol of defiance, a lone warrior standing against the overwhelming forces of darkness or light, depending on who you ask. The battlefield echoed with the clash of weapons, but the true battle lay in the delicate balance between Ajaka's indomitable spirit and the impending threat of mystical forces.
In a moment of profound internal conflict, Ajaka felt the weight of his decision pressing upon him. The battlefield around him seemed to slow as he grappled with the choice to abandon all defense and charge toward the Ifa Priest. Doubts crept in, but the burning image of his sister's peril fueled his resolve.
"Not like this, I have to do something"
With a deep breath, Ajaka unleashed the full force of his determination. Abandoning caution, he surged forward, his spear piercing through the enemy formation like a tempest. Warriors, caught off guard by this sudden shift, faltered as Ajaka pressed toward the heart of the conflict.
The conflict within him mirrored the chaos on the battlefield, yet Ajaka's commitment to his mission eclipsed all uncertainty. His every step carried the weight of sacrifice, relying on the residual effects of a spell cast earlier to shield him from the blows raining down upon him. The air crackled with a fusion of magical energy and the clash of steel as Ajaka raced against time, driven by an unyielding determination to reach the Ifa Priests before their incantations could wreak havoc.
The moment Ajaka abandoned his defenses, the warriors seized the opportunity with ruthless precision. Tens of swords descended upon him, slashing through the weakened barrier of the Alabahun protection spell. Pain seared through Ajaka as each blade found its mark, leaving him battered and bloodied.
The once invincible warrior staggered, desperately putting distance between himself and the relentless onslaught. His movements, once fluid and graceful, now bore the weight of injuries inflicted by the swarm of adversaries. Yet, Ajaka pressed on, fueled by sheer determination, a flicker of defiance burning in his eyes.
As the battle raged, Ajaka grimly acknowledged the toll on his body. The energy that once coursed through him now waned, leaving him on his last leg. With every breath, he realized the gravity of his predicament - the cost of his daring charge was etched in pain, and the realization that time was running out hung heavy in the air.
Gasping for breath, Ajaka, his voice strained and filled with determination, stammered, "I-I won't... give in. N-not now." His weakened limbs trembled, yet his eyes glinted with an unyielding fire.
The pain etched on his face, he continued, "Th-there's m-more... to fight for." Each word was a struggle, but his spirit clung to the refusal of surrender. "I... won't f-fall here," he rasped, the defiance in his voice battling against the toll on his battered body.
In a desperate trance, Ajaka, fueled by an enigmatic force, attempted another daring assault. The wounds from previous slashes still fresh, his body moved with a mechanical determination, as if guided by some unseen hand. However, the merciless warriors, undeterred by his resilience, repeated their onslaught.
With each futile attempt to break through, Ajaka's strength waned further. A final, vicious slash severed the last vestiges of his resolve. A wave of agony crashed over him, and as he crumpled to the ground, the reality of his predicament set in. Paralyzed and battered, he lay amidst the chaos, his body refusing to obey the commands of a spirit willing but broken.
In that somber moment, Ajaka faced the bitter truth - the mysterious force that had driven him to this point now abandoned him, leaving him stranded in a sea of enemies. The battlefield echoed with the melancholy of a warrior who, against all odds, found himself at the mercy of fate, a poignant pause in the midst of a relentless war.
With a crash one of his knees hit the floor, injured he refused to kneel with both knees in front of his enemies. Ajaka, voice heavy with regret, whispered, "F-failed... let her down." His eyes, haunted by the weight of defeat, reflected the realization. "S-sister, I'm s-sorry," he stammered, a broken oath echoing in the midst of battlefield echoes as warrior moved forward to deal the last blow.
After realizing he couldn't fight any longer and his end is near, he looked up to the Priest. They didn't even get to cast their spells before he fell or did they. By following the the pattern in lips their lips moved he can finally make out the name they were chanting.
"Edi"
Edi is a mischievous spirit associated with causing individuals to make wrong decisions. Often portrayed as a trickster, Edi uses its cunning nature to lead people astray, clouding judgment and tempting them towards unfavorable choices.
In the midst of despair, Ajaka grasped at desperate straws, choosing to invoke a spell shrouded in futility. Whispers of its inefficacy echoed, for it demanded the conscious consent of Shango, the god of thunder. Yet, the cruel truth lingered-Shango lay in a deep slumber, a consequence of the last cataclysmic war of the gods, a conflict whose reverberations echoed across centuries. Legends whispered of celestial battles, and now, as Ajaka stood on the brink, he gambled on awakening a deity bound by the echoes of that ancient strife. Many before him were desperate enough to invoke this spell but none of them ever succeeded.
In the twilight of dire need, Ajaka, having proffered tribute at Shango's sacred shrine, summoned an incantation laced with the weight of rightful entitlement:
"O Shango, deity of thunder's might,
Whose flames once danced in the celestial night.
Grant me the power, this hour, reborn.
By the echoes of offerings I once laid at your feet,
Awaken, Shango, from slumber deep,
As tributaries of reverence, my plea seep.
Commander of storms, with lightning bright,
Ignite my spirit, grant me your light.
In this sacred covenant, our paths align,
With tribute given, thy power, be mine."
The air quivered with the resonance of the spell, an invocation that dared to command the awakening of a god whose thunderous legacy spanned the ages.
----------------------_____--------------_____----------
In the celestial expanse, where the crackling echoes of divine thunder reverberated, Shango's weakened essence shimmered amidst ethereal lightning. Whispers of supplication lingered as followers traded fervent devotion for the essence coursing through the bolts of celestial electricity, their sacrifices punctuating the cosmic dance of power.Ajaka's fervent plea rippled through the astral currents, not just reaching Shango but also catching the attention of an ancient conscient-the world itself, an arbiter above the gods.
"Grant me the power" Ajaka's voice echoed powerfully.
The worlds will upon receiving the command from the Child of Fate acted. The worlds will channel some of it's power, it's essence into Shongo. Not enough to heal him but enough to wake him from his weakened slumber. The divine canvas shifted as cosmic forces stirred.
Shongo waking up to realize that a mortal as gone beyond just absorbing his aura and absorbing his very essence.
"You ..... dare" Shongo roared in anger, it took him centuries to regenerate this much and a mortal dares to steal it from him "Stop...."
Shongo's orders fell on deaf hear as Ajaka neither could hear nor can he stop the process. Seeing Ajaka defy his the godly intent, and continued absorbing essence beyond mortal limits, Shango, in a futile attempt to halt the exchange, failed to wrest control. Only then, realizing the threat Ajaka posed, did Shango turn to a desperate resolve. He tried to attack Ajaka by zapping him with enough lightning to reduce him to dust but the worlds will interfered once again neutralizing his lightning and turning them back into essence to feed the essence to Ajaka.
Shango, reluctant to admit defeat yet determined to end Ajaka, channeled his essence into the mortal with bolts of lightning that felt like the very essence of the storms he commanded. The world observed in quiet reverence as Shango's power surged uncontrollably into Ajaka thinking this mortal won't be able to contain such power and die from the ensuing explosion.
Much to Shongo's dismay the worlds will not only compressed his essence but also stored them deep into Ajaka soul in a state easily accessible by him. Shongo's attacks turned into nourishment for Ajaka, a paradoxical exchange that drained centuries of regained strength until Shango, overpowered and unable to control the electric torrent, succumbed, returning to the ethereal dance of celestial storms.
--------------_____----------------_____---------------
As Ajaka surrendered to the influx of stolen essence, euphoria enveloped him into it's embrace. Waves of power surged through him, transforming him at the cellular level. The once mortal vessel now brimmed with an unimaginable force, a symphony of energies converging to rewrite the very essence of his being.
Seeking to comprehend this newfound might, Ajaka's consciousness transcended into a mysterious realm-an empty void where storm clouds, pregnant with fire and lightning, crackled in a opposition then conjunction like the most ballet. The majestic display hinted at the raw power of Shango's essence, a force that could obliterate a mortal with mere proximity. Yet, Ajaka, within this enigmatic space, found himself an anomaly. The storm clouds, though seething with potential destruction, held back their fury, restrained by a force he couldn't fathom.
Amidst the tempestuous beauty, Ajaka grappled with the dichotomy of his existence-imbued with power that, if fully unleashed, could reduce him to dust. But comprehension of this arcane force wasn't his immediate concern. Focused on the imminent threat, he returned his attention to the battlefield, where warriors drew ever closer, hungry for his demise. The urgency to safeguard his own survival and to rescue his sister propelled him back into the tumultuous reality, where the stolen essence pulsed within him like a dormant tempest waiting to be unleashed.
With a newfound backbone forged in Shango's essence, Ajaka sensed the raw power coursing through his veins from the void. Brimming with renewed determination, he turned to face his encroaching enemies. Bloodlust ignited in his eyes as the dormant tempest within him, a fragment of Shango's might, roared in a triumphant chorus, a manifestation of divine approval.
In a voice that echoed with the thunderous resonance of Shango's essence, Ajaka declared in words incomprehensible even to him, "From the void, I rise, tempest unbound. Stand witness as your reckoning unfolds." As he charged into the fray, the storm within him echoed in harmony with his battle cry, a force of nature unleashed upon those who dared oppose him.