Chapter 87: The Storm Moves
Philip burned with fury.
Every instinct in him screamed to go to Ibadan to rip apart the Maw and slaughter everything in that darkness. But rage alone wasn't enough. His parents were still missing. His siblings lay injured. His brother unconscious, his sister barely standing after exhausting her light.
He couldn't abandon them.
First he had to ensure they lived.
Without hesitation, Philip sat cross-legged. He closed his eyes, focusing his will. A sliver of his soul split off, forming an astral projection a silver-gold figure shaped like himself, blazing with condensed might. With a thought, it shot toward Victoria Island.
He needed a healing elixir. He never kept one he had never needed it. But the Adebodes, rulers of Lagos' awakened circles, definitely had some. If they refused… he would take them by force. Nothing would stop him from saving his brother and sister.
As his projection streaked through the city sky, he didn't bother to suppress his aura. The weight of his fury, of a newly awakened demigod, rolled across Lagos like a living storm.
Every awakened being, human and non-human, felt it.
Mages in their towers froze, warriors halted mid-training, supernatural creatures cowered in their dens.
A terrible pressure raw and ancient moved through the air.
An angry demigod… flying from Ikorodu toward Victoria Island…
Whispers spread like wildfire. Panic surged. Even underground networks scrambled, organizations sending agents to uncover what had triggered this wrath. No one wanted to be the target.
As the projection approached the towering Adebode residence, the skies above Victoria Island darkened unnaturally. At the estate, the family head Seye and several senior elders rushed out to the upper balcony, rising into the air to meet the intruder before he reached the main house.
He hovered above the city skyline, silver light crackling around him.
The elders gasped.
Who was this? Had they offended some ancient figure? No report of such a being had reached them. But here he was floating with an overwhelming presence, his killing intent bleeding into the world.
And yet… he had not attacked. He simply waited, watching them from burning eyes.
Weaker awakened across the district collapsed where they stood, unable to breathe. The stronger ones trembled, drenched in cold sweat.
Seye swallowed hard, stepping forward.
"Great one… we do not know what has angered you," he began, voice low, respectful. "But… you have not struck. What… do you seek?"
Philip's projection spoke coldly, voice like thunder wrapped in ice.
"Healing elixirs. Mana supplements. Stamina elixirs. For my wounded siblings. Now."
Realization dawned in an instant he had not come for war. Relief washed over Seye, though fear lingered. He glanced sideways and barked:
"Deji! Bring our finest healing draughts and restoratives! Go!"
Deji vanished in a blur, returning moments later with a tray of shimmering elixirs crafted from rare herbs, beast cores, and ancient recipes.
Philip's projection studied them briefly. Seeing no resistance, his aura eased, the suffocating pressure fading.
He gave a short nod.
"Thank you," he said simply, eyes locking on Seye. "I will return… later."
A promise and a warning.
Before any could respond, he vanished in a ripple of light.
Back at his true body, Philip's eyes snapped open. Without delay, he poured the first healing elixirs down his brother's throat, then his sister's.
Within moments, his brother's ragged breathing eased. The deep gash along his ribs began to knit itself together, blood flow slowing, skin stitching closed.
Philip's tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly.
They would live.
But this debt…
The Maw… the Church of Darkness…
They would pay.