EZEAGU COMMUNITY.
Dawn broke like a bruise on the horizon. A child feeling pressed and the urgent need to ease himself stumbled out, tiny feet silent on the cold earth.
But unfortunately a scorpion struck, its tail flashing like a whip. The child screamed.
The scream tore through the quiet morning like a cracked bell.
Ekon collapsed onto the earth, clutching his foot as pain exploded through his tiny body. The sting burned like fire beneath his skin, spreading upward in cruel pulses.
"Mother!" he cried, voice breaking.
Akwe , His mother dropped the clay bowl she had been carrying. It shattered across the ground as she ran.
Her heart already knew what she would see.
The small swollen mark.
The black sheen of venom spreading beneath the skin.
She knelt beside him, lifting his trembling body into her arms.
"Ekon… look at me."
The boy's breathing had already begun to change.
His mother, Akwe, burst out, her face a mask of fear.
She hugged him and whispered.
" It's okay , you will be alright. Don't move , hold your hand tightly I will go and get the antidote " she spun to dash back for the antidote, Reality is that it wasn't possible. The venom had already started to spread above the place the child was holding .
A massive shadow uncoiled.
At first Akwe thought it was the shifting of the trees.
Then the earth itself seemed to breathe.
The shadow thickened.
Leaves trembled.
Branches bent as though something enormous pushed through the forest behind them.
Then it emerged.
An anaconda so vast the ground dipped beneath its weight.
Its scales shimmered with the dull green of ancient rivers. Each movement made the morning light slide across its body like oil on water.
Its head rose slowly.
Higher.
Higher.
Until it towered above them.
Its golden eyes opened
Akwe's scream was cut short.
The child watched, frozen. The Anaconda cold gaze pinned him. "
As the child watches this trembling sight .
The serpent did not open its mouth.
Yet the child heard it , sound and clear despite his fear of death.
There's no salvation for you don't let her emotions deceive you ."
The child scrambled up, pain and fear driving him. He ran, but the scorpion's venom dragged him down. He crawled, The serpent words echoing: " Pass on , dear .
As the sun broke, Ekon's fingers stopped clawing at the dirt. His eyes dulled, reflecting nothing but the anaconda's darkness.
HEAVENLY REALM.
"He seems… weak."
The words drifted through the endless expanse like a blade scraping stone.
Ogbunabali, god of mortal punishment and eternal warden of the underworld, leaned forward on his throne of black obsidian. Beneath hollow eyes burned twin embers—ancient, yet patient.
His gaze fixed on the mortal below, small and trembling, as though he were a misplaced offering.
" I doubt if he can wield any gods power not to talk of mystery" Igwekala, the goddess of mystery frowns.
"He looks more like a chick pulled from water," Idemili said lazily, voice flowing like a river that could flood or soothe.
She reclined upon a throne of coiled water and emerald scales, her pet ,an enormous anaconda coiled around her like a sentient guardian, head resting gently on her shoulder. Its golden eyes never blinked, watching.
"That is your handiwork," said Igwekala sharply, small yet potent. "You baptized him too long. You are responsible."
Ogbunabali let out a dry, rattling laugh.
Idemili's head turned toward the tiny goddess, ready with a retort—but paused.
She is a baby. In earth age about the age of two years or less .
Igwekala, goddess of mystery and hidden paths, crawled atop her throne of omnipotent mystery. Tiny fingers traced symbols that appeared and vanished beneath her touch. Though she looked helpless, the air itself recoiled around her.
"But he's… good-looking," Idemili added, eyes lingering on Ojadili.
"Awwn" Ogbunabali teased, fangs flashing. "Love in the Heavenly Realm."
"I pray his d*ck is long," Igwekala declared solemnly.
The words hung frozen. Then Idemili and Ogbunabali burst into laughter—louder than thunder, echoing across the endless sky.
Below them Ojadili trembled like a candle struggling against wind.
These lesser gods watched with varying degrees of amusement.
Idemili leaned forward with curiosity.
Others with boredom.
To them, mortal life flickered and vanished like sparks from a fire.
But this one was different.
This one had drawn the attention of prophecy.
And prophecy made even gods uneasy.
Ojadili flinched.
"Who the hell are they laughing at?" he muttered, voice tiny in the vastness.
He lifted his head, really looked, and froze.
The Heavenly Realm was impossible. Terrifyingly beautiful.
The sky was neither bright nor dark, but a living expanse of moving light, layers folding upon layers, each shimmering and reflecting existence in impossible patterns. Stars were not distant—they drifted, observing, aware. The air pressed against his skin like judgment, weighty and alive.
Nine thrones rose in perfect arc, each connected to the center by glowing lines carved into the floor. The thrones were not built; they were manifestations of authority itself. Diamond-like, they reflected not faces, but truths.
Hundreds_no ,Thousands—no, countless—soldiers surrounded the realm, clad in armor of light and strength. Weapons hummed with restrained annihilation. Even standing still, their presence crushed Ojadili's lungs.
He spun in panic. There were no gates. No doors. No path back. How he had entered this realm… he could not remember.
"Can someone tell this human to move inside and stop staring?" Igwekala sighed, rolling atop her throne with the exasperation of a child.
A voice answered immediately.
"Sure, Boss." As the figure moves
Ojadili spun.
"What the hell is happening "
Reflexes kicked in, fear sharper than thought. He swung a leg—but the figure shifted, and his kick met only air. He staggered, almost falling—until the figure strong hands steadied him.
The figure looked human. Same height, same build, same age. Almost the same face.
"I am Chi," the figure said softly. "Your personal god or rather servant"
Ojadili blinked, swallowing hard.
"Can I lead you to the Hall of the Gods?" Chi asked.
Ojadili nodded stiffly.
"Do not panic," Chi said quietly, guiding him forward. "There will be an exhibition… but they will not bite."
It did not help.
They entered the center. The moment Ojadili's feet crossed the glowing circle, the realm responded. Power revealed itself.
Ala, goddess of earth and fertility, sat on a throne of living soil and roots. Her eyes carried the patience of seasons, unmoving yet alive.
Amadioha, god of thunder and justice, bent the air around him. Bronze skin shimmered, veins crackling with lightning beneath flesh. A long white beard flowed like storm clouds. In his hand rested a spear of condensed energy, vibrating with contained storms. Power rolled off him in waves, seeping into Ojadili's chest and spine, demanding recognition.
Anyanwu, sun goddess, radiated brilliance without heat, her golden gaze holding eternity. She has a motherly figure.
Agwụnsụ, god of divination, cloaked in veils of probability, sat as if knowing every possible future.He has a veil that's grows from his clothing covering his mouth and and nose region.
The quietest and Younger god , age from earth perspective could be 18 .
Ikenga, god of strength, war, and personal destiny, stood, arms crossed, muscles carved like sacred stone, eyes fixed on the mortal below.
Hierarchy. Descending order.
Ojadili recognized Idemili, Ogbunabali, and Igwekala.
But the last goddess—ancient, bald, wrinkled, yet agile—sat in quiet watchfulness. Threads of pure knowing weaved and unweaved across her body, a living tapestry of wisdom.
Their garments were not mere clothing. They were power woven into form. Earth, thunder, sun, death, mystery—manifested as robes, capes, and cloaks. Only Idemili's flowed like water and serpent scales, the anaconda coiled around her lazy yet alert.
"Let us begin," Ani, supreme goddess and voice of balance, said calmly.
The lesser gods murmured, teasing, unsettled.
"Quiet."
Thunder rolled. The realm vibrated. Silence crashed like judgment.
Ojadili turned toward Amadioha, fear creeping into his bones.
Ani nodded to Amamiheuwa, the oldest goddess. She rose gracefully, eyes carrying centuries of understanding.
"Ojadili," she said, "son of Ikedili, grandson of Ifedili. You have gained favor in the eyes of the gods. You have been chosen to fulfill Chukwu's prophecy. Ekwensu had been looming and wants to take over ruling the land of men with his Evil agenda but finally we have fate in you that you will be that Seed of a woman that will crush the head of a serpent."
Ojadili nodded slowly confused with the overwhelmed of the heavenly Realm.
"You will be the first mortal called god. You will bear the powers of the Nine gods here , to fight Ekwensu before he finds the Oja."
She paused. "Do you accept this burden?"
Ojadili nodded again, still confused.
Amamiheuwa's frown deepened. Understanding had not reached him.
Before she could clarify—
"I knew it!" Amadioha thundered. "He is the best!"
Lightning clashed violently around his form.
"He will complete the prophecy! He will bring CHUKWU back!"
Ojadili's mind still struggled to hold everything together.
Gods.
Prophecy.
The fate of the world.
It all sounded like madness.
Just hours ago he had been fighting invaders with a stolen gun.
Now ancient beings spoke of destiny as if his life had already been written.
He looked at their faces.
Not one of them seemed unsure.
Not one of them hesitated.
They believed completely in what they were doing.
And that frightened him more than anything else.
He raised his glowing staff.
"Let my thunder, my justice, my lightning become yours!"
He slammed the staff into the floor. The line connecting his throne to Ojadili's circle ignited.
Lightning flooded the circle, spinning violently, forming a mirror-like reflection of Amadioha's full power. It surged into Ojadili.
Bones screamed, flesh reshaped, mind expanded violently.
Lightning crawled beneath his skin like living creatures.
Every nerve ignited.
His spine arched as raw power flooded through him.
Images burst across his mind—storms tearing mountains apart, lightning splitting ancient trees, thunder rolling across endless skies.
For a moment he felt the weight of the heavens themselves.
Then the power settled inside him.
Not gentle.
Not controlled.
But alive.
Waiting.
He gasped Heavily.
He is now more than just a man.
Anyanwu stepped forward—
Reality fractured.
"No! Stop!" Ojadili screamed, voice raw.
The gods froze.
"What have you done to me?" he demanded.
Understanding had finally reached me .
"You have been enhanced," Amadioha roared joyfully.
"Why me?" Ojadili shouted. "Why not Otiaba? Anyaka? The others?!"
A silence rippled.
Amamiheuwa stepped forward, voice calm. "You were chosen by democratic vote. You are worthy. My favorite."
Ojadili laughed bitterly. "So this is how you rig yourself into being a god?"
The words stung, but Amamiheuwa did not flinch.
"You watched invaders burn our huts. Kill our warriors. Enslave us. You watched because we couldn't offer the sacrifice of fat cows that you needs " Ojadili cried out in pain.
"None of us interfered," she whispered.
"None of you came!" Ojadili's voice rose. "And now… you want a weapon?"
Amamiheuwa at the point was speechless and permit silence to do the talking.
Anger surged. Amadioha stepped forward. "Who the hell are you to ...? "
"I am Ojadili," he said guts like that of dismond, eyes blazing.
Shock swept across the gods. Ani's expression softened—not mockery, but recognition of Ojadili audacity.
She is the highest in Hierarchy but Amadioha had been calling the shots, so this will humble him a bit.
"You do not deserve my power," Amadioha thundered. "Give it back!"
"Come and take it," Ojadili replied.
Lightning erupted from his hands. He hurled it.
It struck Amadioha, The most powerful . The god crashed through his throne, smashing soldiers, tearing the realm itself.
The whole gods were shocked , silence filled the Heavenly Realm.
It first Sounded like a dream to them.
" What... Just... Happened ?" Chi whispered afraid.
Amadioha throne had been ripped apart by that forceful and energetic smash.
Gasps echoed. Igwekala grew wings, hovering to observe. From her standing point , she's not seeing clearly .
Ani frowned—disrespect had been done.