Gaia's Champion Ch. 61 - Teaser (Patreon)

The fallen one gasped, hands clawing into the ritual mat as clarity, hunger, and exhilaration surged through him. His senses expanded outward, slipping along ley lines and spiritual currents like fingers trailing through warm water. The city above felt close, as it was fragile, loud, and alive.

‘Yes,’ came the voice. It wasn’t spoken, but impressed directly into thought, rich with humor and indulgent curiosity. ‘There you are. Comfortable? No? You’ll adjust.’

The fallen one swallowed hard, eyes blazing as he steadied himself.

“I can feel everything,” he murmured, awed rather than afraid. “The city… the paths… the choices—”

‘—all intersecting,’ Met Kafou finished for him, delighted. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? Djimon never let you see this part, did he? Always worried about where the road ends, never about how thrilling the middle can be.’

The fallen one clenched his jaw at the name of his old master, as Djimon’s name still carried weight, even now. As if summoned by the thought, a ripple brushed the edges of his awareness that was subtle, precise, unmistakably familiar. It was a call, a magician’s voice reaching across distance the way an old friend might knock on a door they’d once been invited through. The fallen houngan stiffened as he knew who had called to him now.

“…Djimon.”

His first instinct was dismissal. He had crossed a line, and there was no going back, as he was beyond explanations or lectures. He drew breath to shut the connection down and paused… because Met Kafou hadn’t.

‘Oh?’ the Loa mused, interest sharpening. ‘That’s your old teacher, isn’t it? The careful one who always said ‘not yet’.’

The fallen one hesitated. “We don’t need to—”

‘I want to hear him.’

The presence leaned forward inside him, like a child pressing their face to glass.

‘Anyone bold enough to call you now deserves at least that much.’

The connection opened, and Djimon’s voice flowed through the ritual space. He wasn’t loud or commanding, but steady as old roots gripping the earth.

“I know why you did this.”

The words landed without accusation.

“I know why you called to Met Kafou. I know why you believed you had to take this road, and why you thought no one else would walk it with you.”

The fallen one’s chest tightened despite himself.

“You saw what was coming, felt the pressure building in the city and believed strength taken now was better than wisdom earned later,” Djimon exhaled slowly on the other end of the connection. “And if that belief truly comes from a desire to protect this city, then hear me now.”

The fallen houngan straightened, jaw set as Djimon continued.

“If you wish to test your power, prove your supremacy and believe this path makes you more fit to stand as guardian, then you will meet me in the bayou outside the city,” Djimon said, pausing for a beat before continuing. “Our old training grounds that the locals warn their children about, and tourists photograph from a distance and wisely leave alone.”

The fallen one’s eyes flickered.

“We will not do this in the streets and let the innocent bleed for choices they did not consent to. This is not their burden,” he went on. Then Djimon’s voice hardened, not with anger, but conviction.

“If one of us stands victorious after a fair fight, the other will not interfere with what comes next. But this must be done cleanly and properly… with restraint.”

Silence followed, and the fallen one felt Met Kafou considering. Not weighing morality, as Loa did not moralize that way, but savoring the structure of the challenge.

‘Hah, Met Kafou chuckled, the sensation like velvet-lined thunder. ‘I like him. He understands rules without needing chains.’

The fallen houngan swallowed. “He’s trying to trap us.”

‘Of course he is,’ Met Kafou replied cheerfully. ‘That’s what makes it fun.’