The rain whispered against the tin roof, a faint, rhythmic hiss that matched the beating inside Chuka's chest. He sat cross-legged on the cold cement floor of the safehouse, the dim blue light of the generator flickering over his face. Before him lay scattered notes — sketches of ancient runes, coordinates, and seismic readings leaked from the Aegir-9 expedition.
He'd memorized every line. Every hum. Every glyph that spoke of the Heart of Azu'el — the Relic of Divine Strength.
It wasn't sleeping. It was waiting.
And now, it was calling him.
Chuka exhaled slowly, letting his muscles loosen until his heartbeat slowed to a steady rhythm. The noise of the world faded: the hum of the generator, the patter of rain, even his own breath. All that remained was the pulse — faint, ancient, steady — echoing through the core of the world.
He reached inward, beyond flesh, beyond thought, to that shimmering stillness where his power lived. His mentor's voice came from memory, low and calm:
> "You don't chase the divine pulse, Chuka. You let it find you. You anchor to it. Let it pull you through the fold."
He had failed once before — in Jos — nearly tearing himself apart trying to force his body through the void. But that failure had taught him something essential: power wasn't about domination. It was harmony.
And the Heart of Azu'el thrived on harmony.
He opened his eyes. Veins of gold light glimmered faintly under his skin, pulsing like living veins of energy. He could feel the relic across the ocean, beneath the abyss, humming in resonance with his bloodline.
> "You were found because I allowed it," he whispered to the empty room. "Now, I'm coming for what's mine."
On the rusted table nearby, an encrypted communicator blinked twice. A single message scrolled across the cracked screen:
> [EXCAVATION UPDATE: CONTAINMENT OF AZU'EL'S HEART BEGINS AT DAWN. MILITARY PRESENCE TRIPLED.]
Chuka smiled faintly.
The more they guarded it, the easier it would be to predict their moves.
He crushed the communicator in his palm. Energy flared; the device disintegrated into gray dust. The air thickened as the temperature dropped — the first sign that space itself was beginning to warp around him.
He rose to his feet, grounding himself. His bare soles pressed against the cold concrete as he began the divine mantra. Each word vibrated with a rhythm that matched the relic's unseen pulse.
> "Let the pulse guide me…
Fold space…
Align rhythm…"
The ground shuddered. Light erupted from the floor, carving glowing sigils across the cement in concentric circles. The energy flared, expanding until the walls seemed to blur and fade. His entire being began to hum in resonance with the relic's frequency — two distant hearts beating as one.
Then the world folded.
A silent explosion of light consumed him. For an instant, Chuka existed nowhere — not body nor soul, only consciousness slipping through a tunnel of sound and energy. He glimpsed flashes: the ocean depths, a dome of steel, soldiers shouting in panic — then everything snapped.
---
He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs.
Saltwater mist sprayed his face.
Sirens wailed overhead.
He'd arrived — inside the main containment dome of the Aegir-9 excavation site.
All around him chaos reigned. Engineers and soldiers ran across metallic walkways, alarms flashing crimson. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes. The air smelled of ozone and oil.
> "We've got a breach!" someone screamed.
"Electromagnetic surge — inside the chamber!"
Chuka pushed himself to his feet, dripping with condensation. He could feel the relic — its pulse hammering through his bones like a second heartbeat. He followed it through the chaos until he stood before the containment cradle.
There it was.
The Heart of Azu'el.
Suspended within a ring of electromagnetic fields, the relic hovered — a crystalline sphere the size of a human heart, encased in dark veins of gold. With every pulse, ripples of invisible power distorted the air.
The moment he stepped closer, the relic responded.
A single heartbeat echoed through the entire chamber.
Everything froze.
Even the alarms faltered, as though time itself bowed before that rhythm.
Chuka's voice was barely a whisper.
> "You recognize me… don't you?"
The relic pulsed once more, brighter. Sparks rained down as containment coils overloaded. Technicians scrambled to shut down the field generators, but they were too late.
The Heart of Azu'el unleashed a wave of raw energy that tore through the dome. Metal twisted. Lights exploded. Soldiers were thrown to the ground, their weapons shorting out in a cascade of blue fire.
At the center of it all stood Chuka, untouched.
Energy rippled around him, golden and alive.
He extended his hand slowly.
The Heart drifted forward, free from its restraints, moving toward him like a living thing.
> "At last," he breathed. "The strength of the Maker returns to its blood."
When the relic touched his palm, the world vanished.
A blinding rush of visions flooded his mind — the forging of worlds, the rise and fall of civilizations, colossal beings wielding power that split mountains. He saw Azu'el, the Divine Maker of Strength, lifting continents with his bare hands, his laughter shaking the stars.
The force slammed into Chuka's spirit, testing him. His muscles tensed until they felt like iron, his heartbeat thundered like war drums. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest — but he held on. He embraced it.
> "You were never lost," he gasped. "You were waiting for me."
Then came the voice — not heard, but felt. Deep, resonant, vast.
> "The blood remembers."
A surge of power burst outward, obliterating the dome's ceiling. Water crashed in as the Pacific roared to reclaim its depths. The Aegir-9 submarine's systems failed one by one, emergency sirens wailing into static.
Chuka dropped to one knee in the rising flood. The Heart floated beside him, glowing with molten brilliance. The energy coursing through him no longer felt alien. It was his.
He raised his head, eyes blazing gold. Through the collapsing dome, he could see lightning tearing across the sea's surface. The relic pulsed in perfect rhythm with his breath.
He could feel the other relics now — faint echoes across the world, each connected to the Heart like stars in a forgotten constellation. They called to him, waiting to be awakened.
Chuka smiled. Calm. Certain. Transformed.
> "Now I understand," he murmured. "Strength isn't given. It's remembered."
Water surged to his chest, yet he stood unmoved. The Heart orbited him like a tiny sun, illuminating the dark sea as the facility groaned and collapsed around him.
Above, satellites caught the impossible — an energy surge unlike anything seen before, radiant and structured, carrying a code that no machine could decipher.
Roman would see it soon.
The world would tremble.
But Chuka no longer cared. He looked up through the churning water toward the faint light above, and for a moment, he felt the Maker's presence — not distant, but watching.
He took one step forward, and the floodlight bent around him.
Then, in a burst of gold and white, Chuka vanished, taking the Heart of Azu'el — the Relic of Divine Strength — with him.
---