Chapter 05

Chapter 05

Death Push

The first body fell without a sound.

A man in his early thirties collapsed in the middle of Broad Street, Lagos Island, clutching his chest as if struck by an invisible force. No gunshot. No blade. No warning. Just sudden, irreversible stillness.

By the time paramedics arrived, he was already gone.

The autopsy would later say cardiac arrest. But no one could explain why three other men—healthy, unrelated, miles apart—fell the same way within the same hour.

Tunde Adebayo felt each death like a bruise behind his eyes.

Inspector Kunle Ogunleye stared at the photographs spread across the table. “This isn’t your cube,” he said quietly.

Tunde nodded. “Different signature.”

“Signature?”

Tunde tapped one photo. “My cube bends probability. These deaths are… precise. Binary. On or off.”

Kunle leaned back. “Execution.”

“Yes,” Tunde said. “A move.”

That night, Tunde dreamed again.

Not of pyramids this time, but of a board laid on black stone. Four paths. Colored tokens carved with human faces. A child’s hand hovering above them—hesitating—then pushing one forward.

When Tunde woke, the word came to him fully formed:

Ludo.

Dr. Morayo Kalejaiye stood alone in her private archive, candlelight flickering across ancient wood. She placed her fingers on the ludo board and slid one token forward exactly one space.

“Death Push,” she said softly.

Somewhere in Surulere, a gang leader mid-sentence slumped forward, eyes empty.

Morayo closed her eyes.

“This city has too many variables.”

Tunde found the reference in an old, untranslated manuscript at the University of Lagos library. The margins were filled with frantic notes, warnings scribbled by different hands across centuries.

The board does not bend fate. It enforces it.
One move. One life.
No reversal.

Tunde’s hands trembled as he read.

“This isn’t a game,” he whispered. “It’s like a weapon.”

Kunle listened in silence as Tunde explained.

“So now we have cubes that warp destiny,” Kunle said, “and a board that kills on command.”

“And someone who knows how to use it,” Tunde added.

Kunle stood. “Then we’re outmatched.”

Tunde shook his head. “Not yet.”

He reached for his cube.

“For the first time,” he said, “I know what I’m up against.”

Elsewhere, Sadiq Bello watched the news coverage with boredom.

“They’re blaming gangs now,” he said, twisting his cube lazily. “Adults always lie to themselves.”

His cube pulsed brighter.

He didn’t see Morayo watching him through a hidden feed, her expression unreadable.

“Children,” she murmured, “are always the most dangerous players.”

That night, Lagos held its breath again.

Three artifacts were active.

Three wills were moving the board.

And destiny, once a distant concept, was now being pushed—one move at a time.