The mission was over, but the streets of Lagos still smelled of smoke and fear. Civilians huddled in corners, whispering prayers, shaking from what they had seen.
Elijah slumped against a wall, chest heaving. His hands still glowed faintly, golden energy flickering like a heartbeat. He had saved lives—but the weight of what could have gone wrong pressed down on him.
Obinna approached, face grim. "You can't just blast your way through everything, man. One misstep, and you'd be the one we'd be dragging out of the rubble."
Elijah's jaw tightened. "I… I didn't want to hurt anyone. I just…" His voice faltered. Memories of his sister flickered in his mind—her terrified face the night she vanished.
Maya placed a hand on his shoulder. "Control isn't about holding back entirely. It's about knowing how far to push. You did well, Elijah. But you can't rely on instinct alone."
He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. Every life he saved reminded him of those he couldn't. Every choice carried weight.
As he stared at the glowing streets below, Elijah realized something. This was more than training. This was the beginning of a war he couldn't fight alone—and the first step toward mastering a power that could either save his sister or destroy everything he loved.
I have to get stronger. I have to control it. No excuses.