Part 1: Agyaragu's Hunger
The harmattan wind whipped through Agyaragu, carrying red dust that stung Zhyako's eyes. He knelt in the dirt, his right hand burning. The okpé scar—a messy tangle of raised lines on his palm—buzzed like a trapped fly. It always did when the missionaries came with their bulldozers and Bibles.
"Zhyako! Get inside now!" Grandma Nywa's voice cracked from their hut. She sounded weaker every day.
He didn't move. Across the road, Reverend Okoye's bulldozers roared, tearing down the Kutun Muga shrine. The ancient stones, carved with symbols his ancestors had prayed to, crumbled like dry bread. Ayo, the butcher's son, laughed and threw a rock. It hit Zhyako's shoulder.
"Do your magic trick, scar-hand!" Ayo shouted in his fancy Lagos accent. "Make your mud gods stop us!"
Zhyako's fist clenched. The okpé throbbed hotter, like it agreed with Ayo. But Nywa always warned him: "That scar's a promise, not a weapon."
Promises don't feed us, he thought. Promises don't stop concrete.
Inside the hut, Nywa hunched over her cracked mortar, grinding peppers. The smell made Zhyako's eyes water. Her hands shook—hands that used to carve stories into palm sticks. Now they could barely hold a spoon.
"They'll come for our hut next," she muttered. "The gods are starving. No shrine, no offerings…"
Zhyako kicked the dirt floor. "What gods? They let the shrine get destroyed!"
Nywa grabbed his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. She forced his scarred palm up. "This okpé is their voice! It hurts because they're dying!"
He yanked his hand back. "Good! Useless gods!"
Nywa stirred the peppers, her voice softening. "Scars are stories, Zhyako. Stories outlive us all."
That night, Zhyako crept back to the rubble. The bulldozers had left a giant gash in the earth. His okpé burned as he touched a broken stone. Faint letters glowed:
Okpé – Promise
Egburu – Ruin
A drop of blood from his scraped knuckle hit the stone.
The ground shook. A thick root, glowing with red symbols, shot up and stabbed his palm. Everything went black.
Part 2: Blood Activation
Zhatau-Etsozhi
Zhyako floated in a broken world. A smashed Mayan pyramid lay under a broken Japanese gate. Statues with missing arms cried black tears. Above it all hung a giant dead tree—the Kútű N'alụma. Its roots were tied with chains marked with strange symbols: Zeus's lightning bolt, Odin's raven, others he didn't recognize.
A man appeared—skin ashy, eyes glowing like coals. Eze Zhé.
"Pathetic," the man spat. "You smell like fear and cassava."
"Who are you?" Zhyako demanded.
"Your ancestors' failure." Eze Zhé grabbed Zhyako's wrist and slammed his scar against a chain marked with Hermes' snake symbol. "Break it."
"Why?"
"Hunger hurts worse than rules."
The okpé burned like fire. Zhyako screamed as his blood melted the chain.
Kpâ!
The chain snapped. Hermes' symbol dissolved into Migili words:
Ágbágblà – Doubt
Rúlwe – Sky
Eze Zhé grinned. "Now you fight."
Part 3: Relic of Ruin
Zhyako woke to smoke. Agyaragu was on fire!
Hermes, the Greek god, stood on the broken church steeple, his wings glittering. "Run, little ijijili. Olympus likes its prey scared."
A screen flashed in Zhyako's vision:
[Relic: Oathbreaker's Axe]
[Sacrifice: Forget Grandma's Voice]
He stumbled to his burned hut. Nywa's mortar lay in the ashes, still smoking. When he grabbed it, words appeared:
Gba tra.
Rewrite the story.
Zhyako's blood dripped onto the mortar. It fused with Hermes' snake symbol, forming a jagged axe. Migili words glowed on the handle. As the axe took shape, Nywa's voice faded from his mind:
"Ebele na-egbu m…"
Gone.
Hermes attacked, wings flapping fast. Zhyako swung the axe.
CRACK!
The blade chopped off Hermes' wing! Feathers turned to ash. The god screamed and vanished.
System Update:
[Power: 1% Hermes' Speed]
[Cost: 15% Memories Lost]
Zhyako collapsed. His scar had spread up his wrist, dark and angry.
Smoke twisted into Loki's grinning face. The trickster god dangled a vial shaped like a kúswé beetle. Inside, a tiny light flickered.
"Granny's memory tastes like pepper soup," Loki said. "Odin's next. But if you die…" He shook the vial. "Poof."
Zhyako lunged, but Loki vanished, leaving a whisper:
"Tick-tock, Oathbreaker."