Chapter 128 - Reflections: The Bully Beatdown

Ijinle Orun, the training academy which stood as the headquarters of all Training academies in Ilu Obatala towered in the distance. It was white and huge and magnificent, its wall, containing scars of different training sessions in which people had fought and fought to achieve the top status that they were in.

It was the prerequisite to get a fit Irunmole into the demon countering form. And those who shied from attending, often lacked the basic knowledge of their capabilities as Irunmoles. And such, these ones often ended up at the bottom of the tier.

Save for just a few.

Aside from that, this was where the grading system was implemented. And one needed to be graded so as to determine the soul class of such a person with the intent of knowing if that person had levelled up or not. A white band, it was, placed on one side of the arm.

Today, the three segmented building did not hold any interest for the son of the Elder as he trudged through its vast frontage, away from the school. It was closing hours, at least, for someone who was merely a Basic Class Irunmole. Sunday was not akin to wearing of upper clothing and as such, he was bare-c.h.e.s.ted. A trait he had picked from the Third Prime who enjoyed flaunting his broad c.h.e.s.t to the people.

As he walked, not even the busy atmosphere of the academy could intrude into his thoughts. Walking down on the cobblestone road that led to the gate, of which its entrance was made of just emptiness and the walls made of pickets' fences. The voices that rang out to the sides of him and the activity of many Irunmoles at both sides of him as they engaged in target shooting and other things as they pleased did not interest him.

Rather, his mind was sullen as he sulked, a frown pasted over his face ad his head hung low as he kicked the dust. Ever since that day the prophecy had been released on him, his life had taken a turn around.

No more was the cheerful Sunday who enjoyed spending his time in the forest of the High Council Building alive anymore. Rather what was there was just a shell of himself and his perpetual frown.

He had been livid, ever since.

How dare them talk about him like it was nothing. Knowing that one day he was going to become a demon had hit his mindset so badly that all he ever wanted to do was just to run... Run away from everything and everyone he knew.

Unfortunately, even a simple wish as that was not to be granted. His father, The Elder had imposed strict rules on him. He was to be watched by the Hugh Council Guards as at all times. Not only that, his social life had been strictly cut down on the pretext that the less he related with people, the less likely he was to become a demon and even the easier it was to easily cut him own if he started to walk that path.

It was degrading. The stigmatization grew worse with each passing day. His friend, Tayo, had suddenly been taken away by the leadership of the Ilu Ogun, splitting them from each other. And as expected, he was strictly forbidden to visit him.

He had gotten a curfew on each day he had to go to Ijinle Orun. A curfew he dares not to miss or face some punishment as a reward. To Sunday, he was merely a prisoner with a sense of freedom.

Every corner he turned, every alley he passed, there were eyes watching him. No matter where he went, people watched him, expecting to see him turn to a demon any moment.

It was torturous to him. And in an act of instincts, he had learned how to sulk and bury his head down just to avoid the guilty stares of people around. Some day, he had promised himself, someday he would run and run into freedom that was not like anything these ones had to offer him.

He walked through the entrance of the gate and turned left, moving on with his gaze fixed on to the ground when he heard a voice call to him.

"Heyyyy... Sunday..." He ignored the voice and continued walking. He knew who that voice belonged to. It was either to Wole and Shola, the bullis of the squad team up he was fixed into.

And like other times, they ere calling on him to pick on him, because he was a demon in waiting. Sunday gritted his teeth, increasing his pace down the pedestrian passage.

Footsteps hurried over and the next he knew was a punch flying into his back.

"Ahh..." Sunday g.r.o.a.n.e.d as he fell, immediately using his hands to save his face from ramming to the ground.

He turned around, scowling as he saw who he had expected, since.

Wole and Shola, smiling maniacally at him.

"Take him there..." Wole ordered as Shola c.o.c.ked his neck, his dreads flying down, losing to the corners of his face.

Shola bent over and picked him by the legs, his strong grip fastened to Sunday's ankle. He dragged him hurriedly, over to the back of a tree with a concrete fence at the other side with the walling of a shop facing them by the right shoulders as they entered. The usual spot where he got daily taunting and beatings from the two bullies. Quite secure as the only way one could see what was happening was from the left, which Wole or Shola often blocked with their bodies.

"Hey, demon boy... Don't Tell me you didn't hear us calling." Shola sparkled an evil grin at him as he cracked his knuckles, standing in the only entrance into the alcove.

"Get lost. I have a curfew. Beat me later, I'm already lost." Sunday glowered at them.

"Ho ho... did you ask the demon to talk?" Wole with his afro and body in a white garment looked to Shola who shook his dreads hairstyle in a mocking laughter.

"Well..." Shola laughed, dressed the same as Wole, his left fist spiralling down into Sunday's face.

The bullies laughed as the pain spread through Sunday's nerves and then shared a fist bump.

The beatdown continued, both of them kicking and punching and then highfiveing the other as their laughter rippled in the air. Shola grabbed Sunday up by his neck, choking him to his feet while Wole drew back his right fist, aiming for Sunday's exposed stomach.

"What's going on there? A voice called out and immediately, Wole dropped Sunday to his feet, dragging him close with a shoulder hug. Shola tuned around, looking at the suspiciously looking Irunmole with white afro glower at them.

He joined in the hug; his hand wrapped around Shola's neck too. "Nothing, we ae just strategizing for the mission we were assigned. Today is the task completion." Wole lied, tilting his head backwards. "We do not want the opposing team to sniff in on us, that's why we chose here.'

The Irunmole in the white jacket and the black trousers and blue shirt frowned even deeper as he gazed at them. Because of the way their bodies were in, he could not make out the beaten face of Sunday.

He shrugged and then turned around, muttering. "Kids these days."

POW! Shola rammed his elbow into Sunday's solar plexus and dropped him to the ground.

"You got lucky, Sunday. Next time, we will beat you worse." Wole threatened and then rammed his foot down into his stomach. 

Sunday gritted, dropping to his fours as he tried to ignore the pain. This had become quite the norm for him and he was used to it. 

But what he never got used to was that everyday he got beaten and everyday, he came home late, flaunting the curfew because of the bullies. Whatever beating they gave to him was never quantifiable to what he was going to expect for his punishment for flaunting the curfew. 

And today, again, he was made to flaunt the curfew because of the beating of today. Warm tears dropped down his cheeks as he shut his eyes. 

He was fed up. Living like this was miserable and he wished there was a way out. If only that stupid woman had not come with her stupid prophecy... 

Just then, a girl passed by the tree. Niniola, she was. She looked left and right, her eyes squinting into the distance as she placed her hands to her h.i.p.s.

"Where are you Sunday? You ought to be home already... You did not allow me walk you home..." She muttered; a sad look pasted on her face.

Suddenly, she looked to the tree and squinted more. "Sunday?"

"Sunday? Who did this to you?" Niniola gasped as she lifted him to his feet, his left hand over her shoulders.

Sunday pointed weakly to the distance where Wole and Shola were walking in, his finger trembling. At this, Niniola frowned, putting Sunday to rest against the trunk of the tree. She picked a stone and hurled it, her impeccable aim of the stone slamming and shattering against Wole's head.

Wole grimaced and turned around, his angered eyes on the mischievously smiling Niniola. He charged out or rage, followed by Shola. 

And just as he got into range, Niniola blurred.

All what Sunday heard were cries and whimpers for the next minute. And after that, Niniola dusted her hands, coming over to him while the thoroughly battered bodies of Wole and Shola fell to the ground.

"You are strong." Sunday whimpered.

"I know. But I'm sorry they did that. I told you, as long as we are friends, no body can touch you. I am sorry I came late, Sunday. Let's take you home." Niniola replied, placing his arm over her shoulders.

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