Chapter 24: Beneath Neon Skies
The city of Lagos was alive with color, sound, and the relentless rhythm of millions moving in tandem. To Karen Lockwood, it felt like stepping into another realm altogether. She blinked against the cascade of noise and movement—traffic lights danced red and green while danfos screeched to a halt in a symphony of horns. Street vendors waved smoky skewers of suya and roasted plantains while afrobeats blared from distant speakers. It was overwhelming. It was glorious.
Cassandra led the group through the bustling energy of Lekki's market district, her every step confident, casual. She was in her element, blending effortlessly with the crowd despite her high lineage. She flicked a plantain chip into her mouth, nodding approvingly.
Marie trailed close, eyes wide with curiosity. "It's nothing like Soul Island."
"It shouldn't be," Cassandra replied without looking back. "This is the real world. Messy, loud, chaotic—and utterly brilliant."
Jim struggled to keep up, his brown jacket flaring slightly as they crossed a busy street. "How is no one bumping into each other? I feel like I'm playing dodgeball."
Leslie, quiet as always, recorded snippets with a small Soul Lens, fascinated by the energy frequencies in the atmosphere. "The spiritual density is surprisingly balanced," he murmured. "It's chaotic, but stable."
Karen stood still for a moment, letting the world wash over her. It's not like Hollowreach… not like the labs or the Academy. This… feels alive. Her Proto Domain fluttered faintly inside her soul—a reaction, perhaps, to the sheer pulse of humanity around her.
But in the shadows cast by crumbling buildings and flickering LED signs, they were not alone.
Veil operatives moved like ink in water, blending seamlessly into the crowd—street sweepers, bike riders, wandering beggars, even a fruit vendor. Their presence was not noticed, yet it pressed in like a weight behind the eyes.
They watched Karen especially.
From atop a telecom tower, a thin figure adjusted a long-range scope, the pupil of his Soul Eye rotating slowly. "Visual acquired," he said softly. "Target Lockwood. Proto Domain still stable. No fluctuations."
"Hold position," crackled the response. "Do not engage until ordered. Soulborne interference likely."
Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched in return.
Shadow Unit 3 moved like ghosts.
Soul Reapers were trained not just in surveillance but in spectral insertion. Phased half between the physical and the astral, they traced the Veil operatives with silent precision. Three of them were layered across the rooftops, their cloaks of woven night fluttering faintly as they followed the trail.
From behind a shimmering barrier, one of the Reapers whispered to the unit leader, "Targets tracking. Orders?"
"Observe. Await engagement. If Veil strikes, we sever their hands."
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At a small roadside stall, the group paused to try suya. The vendor was jovial, his smile missing several teeth but his energy vibrant. He handed them skewers of charred meat dusted in spice and ground peanut.
Karen bit in—and almost cried. "This… this is illegal."
Marie gasped, eyes watering. "It's melting my soul!"
Cassandra chuckled. "You get used to it. You should try the fried snails next."
"I'm not eating that," Jim deadpanned, fanning his tongue.
Karen smiled despite herself. Here, in this moment, under the golden Lagos sun, she almost forgot the weight on her shoulders.
But the Veil watched. Waiting.
And the Reapers waited, blades sheathed in spirit silence.
The city breathed. And war, for now, danced quietly beneath its neon skies.