The aftermath of the heist lingered like a bad dream over the camp. Guards swarmed the grounds, questioning everyone in clipped, accusatory tones. The vault's breach had triggered a full lockdown—barriers reinforced with energy fields, patrols doubled, and every super on high alert. Whispers rippled through the cabins: "Portal sightings nearby. Beasts sniffing around the perimeter." News feeds on cracked tablet screens blared warnings: "Beast Horde Emerges from Rift in Abuja – Supers Called to Arms!" Footage showed shadowy creatures—twisted amalgamations of wolf and shadow, with glowing red eyes and tendrils that lashed like whips—pouring through a tear in the sky over the capital. Local heroes, clad in makeshift armor, fought back with flames, force fields, and raw strength, but the rifts were growing bolder, more frequent. The world was fracturing, and Nigeria felt the cracks deepest.
Michael stood at the edge of the sparring arena, aura humming faintly under his skin like a dormant engine. The crimson scar on his chest itched, a reminder of his brush with the void. He flexed his hand—the gauntlet's power now woven into his very essence. No more workouts in vain; now, when he pushed, the aura responded, enveloping his body in a shimmering red veil that boosted his speed to blur-like levels, his strength to shatter stone, his resilience to shrug off blows that would fell a normal man. But control was key; too much, and the pressure wave could knock allies flat, as it had in the cabin.
Alvin paced beside him, blue flames flickering nervously at his fingertips. "They know it was us, Mike. That shadowy bastard who owns the vault—he let us in. Watched the whole thing."
Ekene nodded, cracking his knuckles with a sound like popping boulders. "Heard the guards talking. He's some bigwig in the Alliance. Wanted to test us or something. But you dying? That wasn't part of the plan."
Faith hovered nearby, her healing glow ready if needed. The group had closed ranks, a protective circle against the chaos. Favour stuck close to Michael, her heightened senses scanning for threats—every rustle in the bushes, every distant siren. "We need to get out," she murmured, her hand brushing his in a subtle, reassuring touch. Their shared birthday was months away, but the bond felt stronger now, charged with the aura he'd shared to revive her.
The camp ended abruptly that week, cut short by the escalating rift alerts. Aunt Uche Ifeanyi Orike arrived in a battered SUV, her face etched with worry lines that her healing powers couldn't erase. Born December 4, 1985, she was a pillar of quiet strength—her ability to mend wounds extended to emotional ones, too. She'd raised Alvin, Assurance, and Audrey after losing her husband to an early rift incursion years ago. Now, with Michael's parents gone (a story he rarely shared—lost in a Lagos beast attack when he was young), she was his guardian by blood and choice.
"Pack your things," she said, her voice firm but kind. "We're leaving Nigeria. Canada—Winnipeg. Fresh start, away from these rifts. I've got family connections there, and the Superhuman Registry is more organized. Schools for the gifted."
Assurance Ifeanyi Orike, born September 9, 2006, rolled her eyes but complied. At 17, she was the eldest sibling, her portal-creation ability a rare gift that let her open gateways to anywhere, though it drained her energy like a battery. "Mom, portals are everywhere now. You think Canada's safe?"
Audrey Ifeanyi Orike, the youngest at 12 (born March 17, 2011), bounced with excitement. Her sonic blasts could shatter glass or stun foes with a shout, but she used them mostly for fun—echoing bird calls across the camp. "Canada! Snow! Hockey! Do they have beasts there too?"
Uche hugged her daughters, then turned to Michael and Alvin. "It's not just safety. Opportunities. Academies that train properly, not this wilderness mess." Her eyes lingered on Michael's scar. "And after what happened... you all need stability."
The farewell was bittersweet. The Nigerian friends gathered at the camp's edge—Ekene and Uche thumping backs with Alvin, Justin stretching an arm for a group hug, Believe hardening his fist for a bump. The girls clustered around: Faith healing last-minute scrapes, Sonia shifting to cheetah form for a quick lap around the group, Success levitating farewell gifts—small stones etched with names. Ella, ever the flirt, activated her X-ray vision one last time, winking at Michael. "Gonna miss that view," she teased, her gaze piercing his shirt to trace the aura lines in his muscles. Michael chuckled, pulling her into a hug that made her blush—the contact brief but electric, her perverted curiosity met with his easy confidence.
Favour lingered longest, her arms around Michael's neck in a tight embrace. "Call me every day," she whispered, her heightened smell catching the faint ozone of his aura. Their lips brushed in a soft, tentative kiss—not deep, but charged with promise. It was their first real one, hidden from the group, a stolen moment amid the chaos. "And happy early birthday to us."
Olivia doused a nearby bushfire with a water swirl, laughing. Daniel, in human form, clapped Michael on the shoulder. "Stay strong, brother. We'll link up when the world's not ending."
As the SUV pulled away, dust kicking up on the dirt road, Michael watched Nigeria shrink in the rearview. Lagos loomed ahead briefly—skyscrapers scarred by rift battles, streets alive with supers commuting via flight or speed. Then the airport: a hurried flight across the Atlantic, Aunt Uche's healing touch easing Audrey's airsickness.
August 2023 dawned cold and crisp in Winnipeg, Canada—a stark contrast to Nigeria's humid embrace. Snow wasn't yet falling, but the air bit with promise. They settled into a modest house in a suburban neighborhood, backed by a park where minor rifts sometimes flickered but were quickly contained by local factions. News here was similar but polished: "Rift Alert in Toronto – Valkyrie Academy Recruits Respond!" The Global Superhuman Alliance had stronger holds in the West, with academies like Valkyrie drawing the best.
Michael and Alvin, both turning 15 that year (Alvin's July birthday celebrated en route with airport cake), enrolled in Neelin High School. It was a normal school with a superhuman track—classes on history, math, and "Ability Ethics," plus gyms equipped for powered training.
Basketball tryouts changed everything.
The gym echoed with squeaking sneakers and bouncing balls. Michael, in shorts and a tank top, felt eyes on him—his muscular figure, honed further by aura-infused workouts, turned heads. Girls whispered: "Who's the new guy? So handsome." His dark skin gleamed under the lights, broad shoulders and chiseled arms speaking of quiet power.
Alvin dazzled first—dribbling with flames trailing the ball, not burning it but adding flair. He leaped for a dunk, igniting mid-air in a controlled blaze that lit the court like fireworks. Cheers erupted. "Inferno!" someone shouted, coining his alias on the spot.
Michael played subtler. No overt powers at first—just raw athleticism. But during a scrimmage, blocked by a taller player, he channeled aura. Red shimmer enveloped him briefly—speed blurring his form, strength launching him higher than physics allowed. The dunk shattered the backboard in a spray of glass, the aura cushioning the impact.
The crowd went wild. "What was that?" "He's got powers too!" Whispers spread: Aura King, they called him, or The Beast for his feral intensity.
Fame followed. Alvin got the spotlight for his cool, flashy skills—girls flocking, guys high-fiving. Michael drew admirers for his looks and build: sharp jaw, piercing crimson eyes (a remnant of his revival, often mistaken for contacts), and that confident swagger. Girls giggled in hallways, one slipping him a note: "You're hot. Call me?" He smiled politely, but his mind was on training—and Emily, though he hadn't met her yet.
They kept ties with Nigeria via video calls. Ekene shared stories of a recent skirmish: "Beasts hit our neighborhood. Uche and I smashed 'em—gory mess, blood everywhere, but we held." Faith healed remotely via screen, advising on minor wounds. Favour's calls were personal: "Miss you. Portal news is scary here. Stay safe." Their shared February 20 birthday loomed as a promise—maybe a virtual party.
Aunt Uche worked as a healer at a local clinic, Assurance practiced portals to nearby stores (saving on gas, though exhausting her), and Audrey's sonic shouts entertained the neighbors—until one shattered a window, leading to apologetic fixes.
Minor portal incidents tested them. One evening, a rift cracked open in the park behind their house—a small tear, spilling insectoid beasts like oversized scorpions with venomous barbs. News flashed: "Local Rift in Winnipeg – Civilians Evacuate."
Alvin flamed up, blue fire roasting the first wave in a sizzle of chitin and ichor. Michael aura-cloaked, speed-dashing through the swarm, fists crushing exoskeletons in gory sprays of green fluid. Assurance opened a portal, sucking remnants back into the void. Audrey's shout stunned a cluster, sonic waves pulverizing them into paste.
Uche healed the scratches afterward, shaking her head. "This is why we train. But school first—build your future."
As fall deepened, leaves turning gold, Michael felt rooted yet restless. Canada was home now, but the rifts whispered of bigger battles. Whispers of Valkyrie Super Academy reached them— a prestigious haven for supers, with exams looming.
In the quiet nights, Michael trained alone, aura pushing his limits. Favour's kiss echoed in his mind, a spark of romance amid the storm. The farewell to Nigeria wasn't goodbye—it was a bridge to greater destinies.
Little did he know, new allies waited in the north, and the trials were just beginning.