He walked forward, inhaling the scent of battle that wafted about. As he did, he began sensing his surroundings as the air was densely packed with darkness. He could feel the thoughts of dying people, their last prayers weaving into his ears.

Where was he?

All of this was strange. He was supposed to be in his body but… He looked down, a gasp escaping his mouth. Now he had a beautiful white gown that had changed color to brown along a dark blue waist cloth.

As to whether the waist cloth was truly the color it presented itself, he wondered. His feet, baby skinned, were clad with delicate sandals.

He sighed briefly, confusion spreading across his mind. Suddenly, a longing sprouted within him, making him desire to move from where he was.

Reluctantly, he moved, after all efforts to defy the compulsion failed. Around him were burnt down trees, broken buildings and whatnot. Blobs of Irunmole essence floated here and there, vanis.h.i.+ng into nothing. His eyes watered as he looked at a scene of ma.s.s slaughter

Immediately, strings of resentment, sadness, despair, anger and rage, his eyes settling on a body few metres away from him. He raced down there, carefully avoiding the gore and causalities that lay on each side.

Just as he did, a voice called out, making him shudder. "Trixius, it's time to go."

Trixius ?

He looked round to see if he could at least spot Trixius around although he knew that somehow, Trixius would not look the same way as he knew him.

Not seeing anyone, he turned back looking at the source of the voice.

A 9ft tall being stood before him, with an extended hand. With the other hand, the being sheathed a long broad sword. The being had back hairs that gleamed subtle with a lean physique and white pupils that gave out light, projecting faint emanations of Creation Essence.

An Emere

Sunday looked on, bewildered by the sight before him. He had never known how Creation Essence, the unadulterated version of Agbara Essence felt like but somehow he knew.

He knew who that was.

An Emere, they were the family of Orishas and were roughly divided into Pure Emeres and Ascender Emere with a birth cla.s.s at Alpha Cla.s.s while Ascender Emere's started from Omni Cla.s.s. How did he know that? Sunday asked, a feeling of dread and resentment towards the Emere flooded him entirely.

Putting a firm lid on the bitterness that was clouding his thinking, Sunday reasoned on what an Emere actually was. Just then, a scrawny looking hand with claws that seemed to retract, tugged at his garment.

"I'm sorry…I…I cou-couldn't protect you. Said… said to keep you s-safe. That The pain of losing your parents *cough cough*. I don't know w-why they are…NOOOOOOO." A humanoid with hyenlike features growled in pain as a broad sword embedded itself in its chest.

Dusting his hands, the Emere spoke, looking over at the horizon. "This blabber mouth of a Kpelekpe doesn't know when to stay down, does he?"

A second later, a blob of essence floated upwards, before vanis.h.i.+ng into the air.

Enraged, Sunday felt bile building within his chest as he stared unfazed at this cold-hearted Emere. The fear he felt towards this Emere was no longer there. Now all he felt was rage.

How dare he?

How dare he put a sword through the heart of the one being that had seen him as family. How dare the G.o.ds allow this?

How dare this Emere, stand before him with no remorse?

His parents had been enlisted into the convoy that escorted a messenger to earth. As usual, demons had a.s.saulted them. But this time, his parents were causalities.

They were murdered.

The Orisha whose errand the convoy Irunmoles were securing didn't deem it fit to see that he was taken care of. And what was even more infuriating, was that an Emere pa.s.sed by.

This particular Emere but didn't seem to be interested in the ma.s.sacre of Irunmoles before his eyes. In fact he seemed to enjoy it.

What madness!

Now, the same maddened fellow had come to secure him from a Kpelekpe( Were-Hyena ) that had taken him in, causing havoc and disruption in the Kpelekpe's realm.

"It is insulting to see an Irunmole in the hands of these vile creatures. I have come to take you home."

Sunday hated the tone of disgust in this Emere's tongue. Within him, he wished he could rrip them out. Make the idiot pay, pay for the havoc to the innocent Kpelekpe.

People that did nothing, but accept him as family.

'Wait, this isn't me. I am Sunday. These are not my memories!' A wisp of self recognition tucked at Sunday's soul.

This wasn't him.

They belonged to Trixius. Yes, Trixius. Trixius the great.

He was merely re-living this memory that had been buried deep down with his great grandfather. Sunday sighed, that same compulsion, pulling him to the Emere with balled up fists.

He could feel vibrations of Agbara resonate in his fists as he gazed at the Emere, filled with disgust and hatred.

Then, Sunday leapt. Or rather, Trixius leapt, his entire body coated with a warm overpowering glow of energy. He folded an arm, eyes gleaming with righteous fury, reaching for the still calm Emere.

He lunged, powering all of his might into one single punch. His fist pulled at every available law that answered his call. The law of Ogun, Ina, Aganmo, Esu, Osun and every other law he could reach, totally forcing all the principles of the laws to do his bidding.

His skin, hardened, steeled up, thunder growled around him, lightning crawled tingly on his skin while lava flowed from his joints, fire and fumes escaping his orifices. He was stretching his understanding of various laws to the ultimate, a strain that rippled across reality.

The Emere simply smiled, before swathing him away with a gigantic fist. Like a fly that accidentally flew close to him.

He felt insulted. Trixius crashed, his already soiled garments getting irredeemable stains as he tumbled mercilessly into a crater.

A crater formed from his own body. As he landed, he growled, pain rippling his entire frame, his own essence threatening to decline. He felt several explosions of energy within him, the backlash of various laws that he pulled on that had been activated but yet, not used.

Coupled with the severe pain he felt from the swath, Sunday's eyes darkened. He swore to himself that if he ever survived this day…

But he used all the laws he had known, pulled on their principles. How come he was swathed away? Then it dawned, Agbara essence was not exactly the same as Creation Essence. He had gone against an Emere who by default used Creation Essence therefore he was bound not to win.

The only way ever, was for him to attain perfection. Master all laws, and Master Creation Essence itself. Resentment flooded his mouth, as he bit into his lips, tasting defeat and nothing else.

"If only I had been stronger, then these innocent Kpelekpes would had lived."

"Too weak. I am too weak." His eyes twitched, sadness fuelling his tongue.

"Not good"

"I must be perfect."

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"The Orisha claim to stand for good."

"Yet, they go about murdering others."

"I might not be good enough to stop them."

"But one, one day, I swear it."

"So good, so good, the whole Orisha would fear me."

"The Orisha and their Emeres will fear me."

'I will become so mighty nothing will stand in my way."

"Perfection."

"I will become it."

"I swear it."

"Upon the essence of the fallen Kpelekpe, I swear it."

His entire body shook as he uttered those words, a promise of death, honour and full of power. Shortly after, the outline of the Emere loomed over him as his eyes closed slowly, his consciousness fading away.

Sunday barely could keep a grasp on himself as anger flowed freely in him. He felt a longing to know more. Just how despicable the Orisha and the Emeres were? Just how had they pushed his Great Grand-Father into being a GrandMaster of the demonic races?

How? That question hung on his tongue as he slipped away. There had to be more to this, definitely.