The classroom smelled like chalk dust, sweat, and the faint tang of burnt ozone—like someone had tried to microwave a rune and failed spectacularly. Obasi slouched in his seat by the window, one leg bouncing like it was auditioning for a dance crew. His blue eyes flicked between the clock and the front of the room, where Ms. Adesina, the rune class teacher, stood like a general surveying a battlefield.
She was a wiry woman with braids pulled into a tight bun, her N.R.A. badge glinting on her blazer like a warning. Her glasses reflected the flickering rune-etched board behind her, which pulsed with faint blue light. The board displayed a single word: Essence.
"Listen up, you lot," Ms. Adesina barked, her voice cutting through the class's whispers like a machete through sugarcane. "Today's your first practical rune lesson. No books. No notes. Just you, your soul-mark, and whatever courage you've got left after that cafeteria stew."
The class snickered. Obasi grinned, glancing at Zino, who sat two seats over, earbuds in, bobbing her head like she was at a Burna Boy concert. Her red braids caught the light, and her golden-brown eyes flicked up just long enough to catch him staring. She raised a brow, mouthing, "What?"
He smirked and mouthed back, "You're gonna fail this."
Zino snorted, flipping him off under the desk. Game on, Obasi thought.
Ms. Adesina clapped her hands, and the board shimmered, projecting a holographic rune circle—a glowing, intricate spiral of symbols that looked like it could summon a demon or order jollof rice, depending on the user. "This is a D-Rank containment seal," she said. "Your job is to channel your rune's essence into it. Activate it, trap the simulation monster I'm about to summon. Simple. Don't mess it up."
A lanky guy with a puffed-out afro and fake Gucci slides—Obasi recognized him from his group project as Tunde, the B-Rank braggart—leaned over and whispered loudly, "Yo, no-mark, you sitting this one out? Or you gonna cry when the monster eats you?"
The class snickered again. Obasi's grin turned sharp, like a blade dipped in pepper. "Tunde, my guy, the only thing getting eaten today is your ego. Watch and learn."
Tunde's face twisted like he'd bitten into a bad egusi stew. "Big talk for a guy with no rune. Bet you're just here to carry Zino's books."
Zino's head snapped up, earbuds out now. "Excuse you? I carry my own books, fake Gucci. Keep my name out your mouth."
The class ooohed like they were at a street fight. Ms. Adesina sighed, muttering, "Teenagers," but her lips twitched like she was secretly enjoying the chaos.
"Enough!" she snapped, raising a hand. A runecrystal embedded in her palm glowed, and the air crackled. The rune circle pulsed, and a D-Rank rift simulation tore open in the center of the room—a swirling vortex spitting out a void-touched hyena, all snapping jaws and glowing purple eyes. It snarled, drool dripping like it was auditioning for a horror movie.
"Group up!" Ms. Adesina ordered. "Activate the seal or get bit. Move!"
Obasi's group—him, Zino, Tunde, and the quiet GPA-killer girl, Amara—scrambled to the rune circle. Tunde shoved past Obasi, puffing out his chest. "I got this. B-Rank Earth Rune, baby. Watch me lock this thing down."
He slapped his hand on the seal, his rune—a jagged brown symbol on his wrist—flaring. The circle glowed faintly, and stone spikes shot up around the hyena, caging it. The class clapped like he'd just won a Grammy.
"Easy," Tunde bragged, winking at a girl in the front row. "That's how a real Runeborn does it."
The hyena snarled, smashed a spike with its paw, and lunged. Tunde yelped, stumbling back into Amara, who shoved him off with a glare that could melt steel. "Idiot," she muttered, adjusting her glasses.
Zino stepped forward, calm as a Lagos sunset. "Move, Tunde. Let a pro handle it." She placed both hands on the seal, and her runes—hidden under her sleeves but glowing through the fabric—lit up. A soft white light (her Life Rune) wove into a net of shimmering void energy (her Void Rune), wrapping the hyena like a cosmic burrito. The beast froze, trapped, its snarls muffled.
The class gasped. Ms. Adesina nodded, impressed. "Well done, Zino. Sentinel-level control."
Zino smirked, brushing her braids back. "Told you I don't need book carriers."
Obasi, leaning against a desk, clapped slowly, his grin pure mischief. "Nice, Red Braids. But watch this." He didn't know why he said it—maybe Tunde's taunts, maybe Zino's smugness—but something in him itched to move. He stepped to the seal, ignoring Tunde's scoff and Zino's eye-roll.
"Obasi, you have no rune," Ms. Adesina warned, but her voice had a curious edge, like she'd heard whispers from Onyema.
"No rune, no problem," Obasi shot back, slapping his bare hand on the seal. The moment he touched it, his heart thumped like a war drum, and a surge of something—hot, cold, light, dark, everything—rushed through him. The seal exploded in a rainbow of light, the hyena disintegrated in a puff of glittery smoke, and the entire room shook like a bad Nollywood earthquake.
Desks rattled. Windows cracked. Tunde's fake Gucci slides slid off his feet, revealing mismatched socks. The class screamed, then burst into cheers, chanting, "Obasi! Obasi!"
Zino's jaw dropped, her void net fizzling out. "What the actual hell, Justice? That was my moment!"
Obasi blinked, looking at his hand, which tingled like he'd high-fived a lightning bolt. "Uh… oops?"
Ms. Adesina's glasses slid down her nose. She scribbled furiously on a rune-etched tablet, muttering, "N.R.A. needs to hear about this." She glanced at Obasi, eyes narrowing. "You. Office. Now."
Tunde, still on the floor, pointed a shaky finger. "That's not fair! He's a no-mark! He cheated!"
Obasi crouched beside him, grinning like a shark. "Cheated? Nah, Tunde. I just slapped your whole vibe into next week." He flicked Tunde's forehead, sending him sprawling back with a yelp. The class roared with laughter.
Zino grabbed Obasi's arm, dragging him toward the door. "You're a walking disaster," she hissed, but her lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile. "Why do you always steal the show?"
"Not trying to," Obasi said, shrugging. "Just born this way."
She snorted. "Born annoying, maybe."
As they reached the hallway, Ms. Adesina's voice followed. "Zino, you too. N.R.A. wants a word about both of you."
Obasi and Zino exchanged a look—his playful, hers annoyed but curious. "N.R.A.?" Obasi whispered. "What, they think I'm the eclipse kid or something?"
Zino's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Don't even joke about that." But her voice wavered, like she knew something he didn't.
The hallway was quiet, but the air felt heavy, like the universe was holding its breath. Somewhere, a rift hummed faintly, and Obasi's hand tingled again. He glanced at Zino, who was rubbing her sleeve where her dual runes glowed faintly.
"Yo, Zino," he said, nudging her. "Bet I can beat you in a real rift fight."
She smirked, fire in her eyes. "Keep dreaming, Justice. I'm the one saving the world while you're breaking desks."
He laughed, but deep down, a question burned: Why does my hand feel like it's about to start a war?
And somewhere, in the Onyx Spire, Onyema's tablet pinged with a message: Subject: Obasi Light. Potential Calamity. Monitor closely.