Aseem sucked in a sharp, quiet hiss through his teeth, ensuring his irritation remained entirely unrecorded by the crowd. Standing at his exact coordinates, his facial features hardened into a tight, severe mask to discourage anyone from throwing further commentary his way. His entire psychological balance was completely shattered. "Inno, is everything structurally sound?" Aseem demanded, his voice laced with cold friction. "What exactly prompted the entire population of this compound to execute a mass gathering here?" The exact microsecond his lips sealed, every optical lens in the vicinity pivoted dynamically toward his frame, staring at his uniform and stance as though scanning an entirely alien lifeform. Dubu, meanwhile, locked her radar onto his position, her face splitting into a wide, completely unrefined grin. Her internal database had instantly recalled Yaya Babba’s explicit behavioral coaching on domestic manipulation (Kissa da Kisisina), which dictated that a permanent smile was the ultimate weapon to capture a masculine heart. Consequently, Dubu exerted maximum facial effort, baring her teeth aggressively in Aseem's direction. She even hyperextended her neck forward, attempting to maximize her visual profile so he could easily track her above the heads of the surrounding crowd.
Hearing Aseem’s cold vocal input, Yaya Babba’s features contorted into a deep frown. "This is precisely my systemic issue with your character, Soldier!" she barked. "For God's sake, advance your frame to this exact coordinate and assist my station in auditing this structural crisis, or does your intellect desire that I process this psychological weight entirely alone?" Aseem closed the distance with slow, measured strides, his frame laden with his heavy military tactical backpack and a rolling trolley suitcase containing his secondary wardrobe assets. Hafsa’s cardiac rhythms were operating at a catastrophic, high-velocity frequency, pounding violently against her chest wall as though her heart intended to violently breach her ribs. An unstoppable wave of desperate love for Aseem was aggressively occupying her internal system. Operating under stealth protocols, she lowered her chin toward her chest and rapidly wiped away a stream of silent tears, ensuring absolute zero entities logged her emotional distress. The microsecond Aseem anchored near her position, Yaya Babba reached out, seizing his arm in a powerful grip. "Soldier, by the Almighty, calculate the exact number of calendar days remaining before your marriage covenant is legally sealed!" Aseem’s facial features tightened further into a dark scowl. Turning his gaze away to bypass her optical line, he snapped: "My memory architecture has completely deleted that data." Yaya Babba immediately bared her teeth, looking around at the assembled elders with a mocking grin. "Do you track the exact text broadcasting from his mouth? By the Holy Qur'an, Soldier, there is absolute zero historical data verifying that I haven't viewed your persona with high respect, so I demand your station grant me unconditional forgiveness! Almighty Allah is the ultimate sovereign ruler; look at the tier of romantic passion Garba displayed alongside Kandala during his youth—if this physical mud house possessed voice-broadcasting capabilities, it would step forward as my primary character witness! I have absolute zero requirement for Furaira’s legal testimony, for even within the parameters of the Afterlife, I have officially severed all biological ties with her lineage!" Aseem’s lips twitched erratically as his motor functions attempted to generate a harsh verbal counter-strike, yet his intellect aggressively suppressed the output, deeply terrified of releasing an explicit disrespect against the family matriarch. Just as his muscles tensed to violently wrench his arm away from her physical custody, Inna Furai launched a high-decibel vocal counter-offensive: "What structural justification authorizes your tongue to continuously broadcast my name across this compound?! I swear by the Majesty of Allah, even if our souls are stationed within the dead center of Paradise, I will aggressively discharge a catastrophic stream of divine curses directly onto the center of your skull!"
[THE MATRIARCHAL SEVERANCE LOG]
Transmitter 1: Yaya Babba (Annanncing afterlife baseline severance from sister)
Transmitter 2: Inna Furai (Promising high-decibel paradise curses on Inno's skull)
Umpire: Baba Shehu (Attempting traditional conflict-resolution protocols)
Yaya Babba completely filtered out Inna Furai’s vocal transmission, keeping her eyes locked onto Baba Shehu as she pressed forward: "And yet, until the exact day Garba legally finalized the marriage covenant of your biological mother, by Allah, my audio filters never tracked a single phrase of disrespect or rejection slipping past his lips! In absolute truth, I refuse to be associated with this modern youth philosophy; this trajectory must be terminated immediately. The unvarnished reality, Shehu, is that this marriage covenant will be legally sealed this upcoming Friday! Transfer these children to their respective matrimonial chambers immediately so our elders can navigate our remaining days in absolute peace! What logical basis justifies their behavioral errors compromising our spiritual ledger, causing our daily prayers to be rejected by the heavens while the Angels deploy raw wrath against our stations?!"
The Accelerated Timeline
Baba Shehu modulated his vocal frequency into a soft, highly diplomatic tone, attempting to stabilize the matriarch’s energy: "Inno, if your station could provision some assistance, let us permit the originally scheduled timeline to arrive. Our units have already finalized the printing of the formal wedding invitation cards and routed them to the entire guest database. If these young entities commit any behavioral anomalies after the crowds have dispersed, our elder council can reconvene and process the situation via structured dialogue." Yaya Babba locked her eyes onto his face in a cold, unblinking stare, waiting until his vocal stream reached absolute completion before she struck back: "It is mathematically mandatory for your intellect to display my absolute boundaries to my face, Shehu! You do not even need to articulate the words; it has always been clear that my womb was not the biological incubator that generated these children for your pool!" Finishing her sentence, Yaya Babba ruptured into a massive, highly theatrical fit of weeping.
[TACTICAL TEAR DEPLOYMENT]
Target: Elder Council (Baba Shehu, Baba Aminu, Baba Abubakar)
Result: Immediate evacuation of secondary assets; total narrative surrender.
New Timeline: Friday (Exactly 4 calendar days remaining).
An absolute, heavy silence instantly choked the space; every elder lost the capacity to generate speech. Baba Aminu elevated his gaze, swept his eyes across the secondary relatives and onlookers, and issued an absolute dispersal order. One by one, the crowd began vacating the coordinate, clearing the space. Aseem and Salisu were already standing as though their feet were planted on white-hot needles; before Baba Aminu could even seal his lips, their frames vaulted forward, leading the evacuation. The space fell completely quiet, leaving only Yaya Babba, Inna Furai, and the core patriarchs, each navigating a deeply uncomfortable psychological environment. Baba Abubakar stepped forward, reaching into his traditional attire to extract a clean handkerchief, extending it toward her frame. "Inno, wipe the moisture from your eyes," he pleaded. Yaya Babba refused to elevate her chin to track his face, snapping: "Permit the fluids to flow unhindered! Once the supply is completely exhausted and my physical body ceases replication, your stations will finally achieve absolute peace!" A collective smile crossed the patriarchs' faces; her dramatic flair had almost cracked their serious facades with laughter. Baba Abubakar turned his frame toward Inna Furai, requesting: "Inna, for the love of God, inject your maternal authority into this matrix so she can stabilize and permit a logical discussion." Inna Furai turned her spine away, hurling a sharp, hostile glare directly at his face. "What specific tier of stabilization does your intellect require from my station?" she countered. "The absolute truth is that the structural trajectory Yaya has mapped out is entirely correct! What logical basis justifies this delay when the holy baseline of the Prophet is being displayed to your eyes, yet your stations choose to violently seal your eyelids?!" Hearing her sister validate her stance, Yaya Babba doubled her weeping velocity, howling with renewed vigor. The elders waited until her emotional output had exhausted its peak volume before swiftly intervening. Deploying intense diplomatic pleading, they managed to stabilize Yaya Babba’s frame back into a seated posture. However, no matter what logical models the patriarchs presented to retain the original wedding date, both Yaya Babba and Inna Furai maintained an absolute, ironclad refusal to yield. Left with zero structural leverage, the patriarchs bowed to their authority, officially shifting the legal execution of the marriage covenant to this upcoming Friday—leaving a microscopic window of exactly four calendar days.
The Four-Day Countdown
Beginning that very afternoon, Baba Abubakar’s sector initialized high-velocity communications, dialing their entire network database to inform them of the sudden contraction of the wedding timeline. Within the geographic perimeter of Ɗangwauro, the data spread like wildfire, saturating every household. Inside Hajiya Nafisa’s urban sector, the black bile of pure resentment reached immeasurable heights; she and her husband spent the entire night locked in a bitter, toxic verbal war. Similarly, within Aseem’s coordinates, the hours of darkness were consumed by intense, silent fury. Yet Dubu remained completely unaffected; her system entered a state of deep, blissful sleep with an entirely relaxed consciousness. Hafsa, conversely, spent the night hours discharging a relentless stream of tears, tracking the reality that the countdown had officially crossed the threshold where her beloved would be permanently lost to another, shattering her lifetime romantic desires. The exact millisecond dawn broke, Aseem bolted from the compound. The moment his boots hit the external pavement, he speed-dialed Nasir’s line, uploading a raw brief of the timeline contraction. Nasir deployed initial protocols of fraternal sympathy, but his baseline behavior quickly resurfaced as he questioned: "Hey, what specific venue have you secured for the bachelor party execution?" The moment those words hit Aseem's audio filters, he aggressively terminated the call. Nasir initialized multiple follow-up connection attempts, but Aseem’s terminal flatly rejected every single incoming stream.
[THE FOUR-DAY COUNTDOWN]
Logistics: Leis (*Lefe*) delivered 2 days before the deadline.
Ambiance: Traditional cosmetics (Hadiza) / Skin brightening protocols.
Anomaly: Dubu's raw shaven scalp starting to sprout tiny hair follicles.
The domestic preparations inside the compound rapidly shifted into maximum gear, crossing both masculine and feminine sectors. Because the entire arrangement was confined within the extended family network, the formal delivery of the bridal trousseau (Lefe) to Dubu’s sector was executed seamlessly with only two days remaining on the countdown. Inna Furai and Yaya Babba dedicated themselves entirely to the physical optimization of the brides—soaking various traditional therapeutic roots, boiling specialized medicinal blends, and forcing the girls to consume the outputs. Concurrently, a local skin-care aesthetician named Hadiza was retained to execute regular physical body-polishing routines. Dubu’s visual aesthetics shifted dramatically; her skin tone unlocked a radiant, high-clarity glow. However, her cranial layout presented a severe aesthetic anomaly: because her scalp had been violently shaved completely bare down to the follicles, tiny, coarse hair stubs were only just beginning to breach the surface. If an observer tracked her silhouette from a distance, they would swear by the Almighty that a young civilian male was standing in the corridor. Every single material, financial, and logistical asset required to execute the feminine pre-wedding celebrations was directly financed by Baba Abubakar and transferred into Dubu’s custody. This massive influx of resource capital ensured that Dubu’s mind remained entirely unbothered by Aseem’s absolute physical absence from her perimeter. As for Yaya Babba, the rapid influx of extended family guests arriving from distant sectors completely consumed her administrative bandwidth, leaving her with zero time to monitor the couple's personal interactions. The arriving crowds continuously broadcasted intense astonishment regarding Dubu’s sudden marriage allocation, given that the data linking her profile to a high-ranking military asset like Aseem had only been unlocked at the final hour. Nevertheless, the traditional festivities pressed forward at high velocity. As for Aseem, he ensured absolute zero entities within his professional or social peer network logged data regarding this union, save for Nasir; his intellect categorized a marriage to a primitive entity like Dubu as a catastrophic regression of his social status.
The Solemnization of the Covenant
Time: 2:00 PMDay: Friday The wheels of time grind with absolute certainty, and the day arrived. At approximately two o'clock in the afternoon on the holy day of Friday, the marriage covenants of the late Rosary Wielder’s grandchildren were legally sealed. Deep within the architecture of the Grand Palace Mosque of the Emir of Kano, Aseem and Dubu were officially bound under Islamic law. A massive, sprawling sea of human heads witnessed the execution of the covenant. Salisu’s facial features were completely glowing, flooded with an uncontainable tide of pure joy. Aseem, conversely, stood within his coordinates consuming nothing but the bitter bile of raw psychological defeat. His personal contingent consisted strictly of Nasir and a microscopic group of fellow officers—fewer than ten assets in total.
Even this small contingent had only been activated because Nasir had independently broadcasted the wedding metrics to their network. The moment Aseem had discovered Nasir's unauthorized broadcast, he had launched a ferocious verbal assault against his comrade, culminating in a bitter argument before the ceremony. From the sacred grounds of the solemnization, the massive convoy turned around and migrated back toward the family compound. At the base compound, the women had already transformed the space into a high-energy festival zone. Traditional calabash percussionists (Masu Kiɗan Ƙwarya) had been deployed, unleashing rhythmic beats that set the crowd into intense dancing. If an external lens tracked the sheer velocity and aggression with which Dubu was dancing and shaking her body, the observer would compute that she was a random hyperactive guest rather than the actual bride herself. Yaya Babba and Inna Furai were elegantly arrayed in high-grade matching traditional attire (Anko), moving through the sea of guests, managing the complex hospitality logistics. The moment the masculine convoy returned to the compound, the photography phase was initialized. The grooms and their respective patriarchs posed for the lenses, their faces radiating profound familial satisfaction. The sole variable preventing Aseem from abandoning the coordinates and fleeing to his private quarters was the strict necessity to preserve his father's public dignity; he calculated that his absolute disappearance would trigger a barrage of uncomfortable inquiries from the elite guests. He forced his facial muscles to comply through the endless flashes of the cameras, before stealthily detaching his frame from the group and retreating deep into his private sector alongside Nasir and his officers.
The Matriarchal Sent-Off
Time: Nightfall The entire contingent of newly wedded grooms and their veiled brides was assembled within the sprawling master parlor of Yaya Babba. The room was tightly packed with their biological patriarchs, maternal figures, alongside Yaya Babba and Inna Furai. Since the Maghrib prayer hour had crossed the horizon, Yaya Babba’s tear ducts had been continuously active, leaking silent drops down her wrinkled cheeks. Within the room's layout, every single bride sat with her upper torso completely cloaked under a heavy traditional marriage veil (Mayafi), presenting the culturally mandated performance of soft weeping—though a deep data audit would reveal their grief failed to reach their internal hearts. Several among them lacked a single drop of moisture on their skin. The grooms, conversely, sat with their chins deeply embedded in their chests, weighed down by an intense, overwhelming wave of cultural reverence and shyness (Nauyi) before the elder council. Dubu, stationed beneath her heavy veil, dedicated her processing power to stealing rapid, illicit glances at the room's occupants. Finding her visual field restricted by the fabric, she routinely hoisted the edge of the veil, catching the eyes of the assembly through stealth maneuvers. The exact millisecond her eyes collided with the gaze of any of her maternal uncles, her motor functions would rapidly drop the veil back into defensive positioning.
Baba Munkaila cleared his throat loudly, initialized the opening sequence with a traditional Islamic supplication, and delivered the foundational marriage counsel. Concluding his transmission, he requested Yaya Babba and Inna Furai to upload their matriarchal wisdom to the ears of the youth. Yaya Babba remained locked in an active weeping loop, entirely incapable of speech. Tracking this block, Baba Abubakar suggested that Inna Furai step forward and execute the address on behalf of the matriarch. Inna Furai cocked her head dynamically to one side, countering: "Garba, my station does not reject your directive, but your intellect knows well that obeying the leadership hierarchy is akin to obeying Almighty Allah Himself! Since the timeline your group sprouted within this compound, have your eyes ever tracked my persona stepping forward to spearhead an administrative matter without Yaya initializing the sequence first?" Yaya Babba rapidly wiped her tears away, interjecting: "Permit her, Furaira! His station desires that your persona violate the strict training parameters established by our late father, Malam! The unvarnished reality is that our lineage does not operate on such lawlessness. Do not dare display any toxic character traits before these young entities, lest their systems copy the anomaly and deploy it within their respective matrimonial homes! This is the precise reason my sister and I permanently execute righteous actions—to guarantee our inheritance files are cleared for the gates of Paradise!" Yaya Babba finalized her text while locking her gaze onto Inna Furai. Baba Sule nodded his head in deep assent, stating: "The platform is yours, Inno. Bismillah." Yaya Babba adjusted her seating posture, elevating her vocal volume: "Converge your absolute cognitive focus onto my coordinates immediately, because the matrimonial journey is absolute zero game! Cast your eyes upon your biological patriarchs—it feels like just yesterday their frames were delivered into this exact parlor as newlyweds, and today, they have officially executed your own marriage covenants! I will initialize my transmission with you female assets: by the Holy Qur'an, you must construct an intense fear of Allah within your souls and render absolute, unquestioning submission (Biyayya) to your husbands! If your systems violate this parameter, an absolute, permanent barrier will be erected between my soul and your lives! Furaira stands here as my ultimate character witness: even within the coordinates of the Afterlife, let no rebellious female asset dare approach my position or claim acquaintance with my person! For any female who fails to submit to her marriage covenant will, by the absolute decree of the universe, find her final destination file routed directly into the core fires of Hell (Wuta)! Absolutely negative—sever my name from any chatter regarding the fires of Jahannam while I sit here in total peace! What business links my soul to that sector when my profile is firmly indexed in the elite ranks of the lovers of the Holy Prophet (S.A.W)? Render total marital submission so your systems can secure Paradise, allowing our entities to converge at the heavenly greeting stations in joy! When my optical sensors scan the celestial horizons and track Zulfa, I will wave my hand in celebration; then my eyes will track Dubu, and we shall collectively consume the sacred waters of Al-Kausar, eating whatever our hearts desire and drinking whatever our systems request! After all, what is the actual remaining timeline of this earthly existence before your eyes? Munkaila here behaves as though he is a security guard permanently rationing the meat supply against myself and Furaira, denying our stations our dietary desires over foolish arguments! Absolutely negative—divorce my life from this toxic behavior! Render total marital submission so we can collectively consume premium meat and tender young chicks (Yan shiloli) in Paradise, entirely free from any human entity establishing boundaries against our consumption! If your systems reject this counsel, your frames will be dragged into Hell and handed over to the Angels of torment to execute severe punishment (Walmukalifatu) upon your souls!"
[THE CELESTIAL MENU CONTEXT]
Authorized Items: Unlimited premium meats / Tender young chicks (Yan shiloli)
Sacred Fluids: Al-Kausar Waters
Prohibited: Baba Munkaila's earthly rationing protocols.
A collective burst of laughter rippled through the parlor; the sheer, unyielding intensity with which Yaya Babba mapped out her paradise logistics made it seem as though a divine guarantee of her heavenly status had already been signed and delivered to her while still walking the earth. She turned her frame toward the grooms, sweeping her eyes across their ranks before locking into a wide smile, stating: "Almighty Allah is the ultimate sovereign ruler! Look at the Soldier's unit—his facial features are flashing with brilliant illumination! For God's sake, outside the holy parameters of marriage, what alternative institution could optimize a masculine frame in this manner? Now, listen to my words with absolute focus, because before the Almighty, my station will tolerate absolute zero instances of you males taking my grandchildren and roasting dry beans (Gasa aya) inside their hands through harsh treatment! Absolutely negative—sever my network from that philosophy entirely! These children represent a sacred trust (Amana) deposited into your custody; your stations must treat them with supreme goodness, for the baseline of marriage is nothing but enduring patience. Your own patriarchs navigated those exact parameters to guide this family to its current milestone. Look at Ado here, and the rest of your fathers—since the timeline I have co-existed with their units, my audio filters have logged absolute zero data indicating a single philosophy of severe domestic warfare arising between their stations and their wives. Within your respective homes, if any female asset compromises your temper, bypass her frame entirely, locate my coordinate, and deposit the report to my face—I swear by the Creator, her ultimate savior from my raw wrath on that day will be Allah alone! Ensure your stations routinely provision them with fried meats (Ɗan tsire) and local chickens (Kaji); your intellects must register that these avian protein assets act as a high-grade binding glue that thickens romantic love. May Almighty Allah continuously multiply the population of chickens across the expanse of the earth! For were it not for their culinary intervention, your biological frame would have never been conceived, Salisu! Your biological mother sits right here, and I will broadcast zero falsehoods against her profile: the exact day she was brought into your father's house, by the Holy Qur'an, her soul harbored intense hatred for his person! However, because your patriarch was a certified master of purchasing fried chickens, I simply woke up one morning to find her gestation parameters fully activated with your pregnancy! For God's sake, explain to my intellect how a matrimonial home can survive if chicken assets suffer a severe market shortage?" The parlor remained completely silent; absolute zero entities attempted a verbal counter-transmission. Yaya Babba dropped her vocal frequency into a soft, intimate register, concluding: "Your systems recognize that managing the eccentricities of an elder requires absolute patience. Throughout my journey with your units, your actions have never deposited a single grievance into my ledger; however, I demand your stations grant me unconditional forgiveness if my words have ever bruised your spirits. Let Furaira now advance the counsel." The assembly chorused their deep respect, and Inna Furai assumed control of the platform. "My station commands only a highly condensed, brief capsule of counsel," she declared. "To the collective collective assembly, I command you to build an absolute fear of Allah within your souls; if your systems fail this metric, absolute zero variables will prevent our stations from discharging an aggressive stream of divine curses directly onto the center of your skulls! To you wives: execute every directive, avoid every prohibition, and maximize your cosmetic presentation, deploying intense domestic manipulation (Kissa da Kisisina) exactly as our units trained your systems! Allah is the ultimate judge that if your profiles commit intentional transgressions against the Divine law, our hands are completely washed clean of your ledger! As for you husbands: you occupy the structural rank of leaders. If these female assets commit an operational error, an absolute prohibition is enforced against physical battery or verbal abuse! For Allah knows our stations will tolerate zero abuse of our grandchildren; any male who lays a hostile hand on our grandchild—by the Holy Qur'an, the solitary entity that will prevent our station from dragging his frame directly to the Human Rights enforcement commission (Human Right) is the absolute cessation of our biological respiration! On this legal baseline, I broadcast boundless goodwill to your journeys."
The Matrimonial Chambers
Following the conclusion of the addresses, the patriarchs finalized the traditional send-off protocols. Baba Adamu ordered the administrative assets to carry in the mandatory bridal packages for each groom: a specialized containment unit containing fried wedding chickens paired with assorted soft drinks, distributing the packages across the grooms. Concluding this protocol, the elders exited the perimeter, and the brides were physically escorted into the private apartments of their respective husbands. The moment the escort team initialized physical contact with Dubu to guide her frame toward Aseem’s apartment, she erupted into violent, high-decibel weeping, screaming that the logistics were completely invalid unless Yaya Babba’s physical frame was permanently relocated alongside her to the apartment. This frantic vocalization from Dubu violently struck Yaya Babba’s emotional filters, causing her maternal heart to crack. It required intense, high-effort diplomatic soothing from the patriarchs to stabilize Yaya Babba’s weeping before Dubu's frame could be successfully transferred into the private quarters of her husband, Aseem.
[ASEEM'S PRIVATE APARTMENT]
Interior: Premium city-grade furnishings / Financed by Baba Abubakar.
Ambiance: New wood / Industrial fragrances / Total modern aesthetic.
Leftover Assets: Two village bridesmaids (A'ilo and Raliya).
Aseem’s private apartment had been completely transformed into a high-aesthetic layout. Baba Abubakar had independently financed and procured high-end, urban-tier bedroom furniture, matching the living standards of the metropolitan elite. Her wardrobe and material assets were highly respectable, perfectly balanced to sustain a dignified, middle-class existence. Every component was brand new, releasing premium industrial fragrances into the air. Dubu was guided into the center of this modern layout, where the escort team delivered a final round of cultural counsel before vacating the space, leaving Dubu flanked by her two primary village bridesmaids: A'ilo and Raliya. Nasir spear-headed the masculine convoy escorting the groom to his quarters. Aseem marched at the front of the formation, his face a cold block of stone, while Nasir and two fellow officers reinforced his rear. The exact millisecond their boots breached the living room layout, Dubu dynamically hoisted her marriage veil, launching a stealth optical scan of the convoy. The moment her pupils locked into a direct collision with Aseem's glaring eyes, she rapidly dropped the fabric back over her features, bursting into a loud, unrefined, mocking cackle. Nasir advanced toward her coordinate, announcing: "Our highly revered bride, we have successfully delivered your groom to your perimeter! Our system registers an intense hope that your station will guard this asset with absolute fidelity, because our ultimate objective is that before tomorrow's sun reaches its meridian, this deep indentation on his collarbone (Ramin wuyan) will be fully filled out through your domestic care!" Aseem hurled a lethal, razor-sharp glare at his comrade's face, snapping: "Nasir, your life parameters are tracking dangerously close to severe violence!" Before his lips could even seal, Dubu’s voice boomed from beneath the veil: "By Allah, a single calendar week will not elapse before your entire network navigates pure shock regarding his physical transformation! Your intellect completely lacks data regarding Laminu—the husband of my close associate Zuwai! His original profile perfectly mirrored the exact gaunt appearance of Me Lob (My Love), but as we speak today, if his physical abdomen is deposited before your gaze, your system would feel—"
The Domestic Explosion
A ferocious, deafening roar erupted from Aseem's throat, instantly jamming her voice transmission and locking the remaining syllables inside her throat. He turned his eyes onto Nasir, his face entirely devoid of a single microsecond of warmth, barking: "Vacate my private real estate immediately! My database never issued a formal invitation to your network to breach this apartment!" Nasir unleashed a malicious, mocking grin, countering: "You absolute rogue, do not dare attempt to display your military rank before my station; our professional variables are perfectly symmetrical! Furthermore, within a highly compressed timeline, my own system will execute a high-speed romantic capture (Wuff) against a choice female asset, leveling our scoreboard to an absolute tie!"
[THE BRIDESMAID DISPERSAL PROTOCOL]
Aggressor: Aseem (Military Officer / Exploding with vocal roars)
Targets: A'ilo & Raliya (Village Bridesmaids / Frozen in terror)
Action: High-speed chaotic retreat ──► Double cranial collision (*Gware*) at the exit door.
Finishing his verbal transmission, Nasir deposited the heavy containment bag containing the traditional pre-cooked bridal entry snacks onto the table. Turning their heels, the officers exited the apartment. Aseem pivoted his frame toward A'ilo and Raliya, who were standing frozen against the wall like lifeless statues, and detonated a terrifying vocal command for their immediate evacuation. Before his lips could even close, the two village girls vaulted forward in pure terror, scrambling frantically for the exit door. Their panic-stricken trajectories crossed violently, causing their skulls to collide with a loud, hollow smash—***Gware!***—not once, but twice against the doorframe before they successfully negotiated the door opening and sprinted down the corridor at maximum velocity. The moment the apartment sealed, Dubu violently ripped the marriage veil off her head, her face contorting into an expression of deep, toxic resentment. "By Allah, your actions have successfully dragged my social standing through absolute public humiliation!" she screamed. "On what logical basis does your station violently banish my close associates from my quarters without even permitting them to collect the traditional financial compensation for greeting the groom (Ladan Siyan Baki)?!" Before her lips could finalize the sentence, Aseem’s hand flashed through the air, delivering a sharp, stinging slap directly across her lips. The physical impact violently jammed her vocal motor functions; she clamped her lips shut, instantly retreating into a dead, terrified silence. Aseem strode across the room, yanked open a dresser drawer, extracted a fresh, traditional long robe, and marched out into the central parlor to access the compound’s external restroom facilities. The exact microsecond his boots cleared the apartment threshold, Dubu’s survival instincts took over. She sprinted toward her leather suitcases, unzipped a containment unit, and rapidly stripped out of her heavy bridal regalia, changing her frame into a sheer, lightweight traditional nightgown. Her cranial layout was completely bare—her shaven scalp was entirely devoid of hair assets, completely exposed without a single traditional headscarf covering the raw skin. She aggressively lunged at the bridal package, tearing the containment bag open, and began violently consuming the fried chicken leg with raw, high-velocity bites, washing the protein down with large gulps of yogurt, her eyelids fluttering in pure sensory bliss.
She was deeply entrenched in this animalistic dining state when Aseem breached the apartment door. The visual anomaly before his eyes delivered a massive psychological shock to his system. His motor functions halted as his eyes scanned her appearance: she was sitting there entirely bald, her face heavily smeared with chicken grease and oil, completely unrefined. His mind struggled to compute how an entity possessing this tier of primitive behavior simultaneously commanded the urban awareness to procure and wear modern nightgowns. He slowly descended onto the edge of the mattress, his eyes locking onto her frame with a mixture of profound disgust and deep psychological frustration (Takaici). Aseem had not even finalized his mental processing of this disaster when Dubu dynamically extended her arm, thrusting a grease-dripping chicken thigh directly flush against his lip line, proclaiming: "Consume this asset, Me Lob (My Love)! Behold: the sacred chicken of true lovers!" As she articulated the words, she initialized a highly exaggerated, comical fluttering of her eyelids, attempting to execute the romantic facial maneuvers (Farfari) taught by Yaya Babba.
[THE ROMANTIC ESCALATION DEPLOYMENT]
Trigger: Chicken thigh pressed against Aseem's lips + Flashing bald head.
Weapon: Heavy-duty electronic charging cable (Fizgo wayar caza)
Countermeasure: High-speed tactical retreat from Dubu ──► Vaulting out of apartment.
Paralyzed by the raw absurdity of the display, Aseem's cognitive filters broke. Wrenching his frame backward, his hand shot out, violently grabbing a heavy, thick electronic charging cable resting on the mattress. The exact millisecond Dubu’s radar registered the weapon procurement, her survival matrix calculated a catastrophic threat level. She executed a high-velocity leap off the floor, bursting out of the apartment door into the open courtyard, screaming at the top of her lungs. Aseem, completely unhinged by rage, launched into a hot tactical pursuit directly behind her vector. They tore across the compound grounds, bypassing all secondary sectors, and did not halt until they violently breached the master sanctuary of Yaya Babba's private bedroom. With a frantic, high-speed dive, Dubu locked her arms in a death grip around Yaya Babba’s torso. One of her hands was still tightly clutching the half-consumed chicken thigh, her face completely gleaming with a thick layer of grease and cooking oil. Yaya Babba tightly wrapped her defensive arms around Dubu's frame, elevating her chin to glare at Aseem's panting form standing in the doorway, declaring with absolute authority: "Cease your advance, Soldier! Across every single operational sector, your character permanently displays the ruthless traits of the infidels, entirely devoid of human compassion! Dubu is nothing but a tender, microscopic infant entity! Sever my perimeter from this military philosophy immediately—this young child has not even finalized the consumption of her bridal chicken asset, yet your masculine savagery is already tracking a deployment to violently launch an assault upon her flesh!"
BOOK 2: PROLOGUE DEPLOYMENT
[SYSTEM REGISTER: NEW NOVEL INDEX DATA]
Title: ZAUJATU JINNUL-ASHIQ (The Bride of the Lover Jinns)
Author: Ameera Adam
Access Code: Premium Vault / N300 MTN or Bank Asset
Affiliation: First Class Writer's Association
The Nightmare Terrain
The massive, crushing weight and advanced physical geometry of the gestation profile protruding from her lower torso resembled a heavy, inverted earthenware basin strapped to her frame. Yet, this intense anatomical burden completely failed to slow the high-velocity, frantic sprints she was executing across the dark terrain to preserve her biological life variables. She was executing maximum-tier evasion maneuvers because a horde of grotesque, malevolent supernatural anomalies had materialized within her operational perimeter, launching a coordinated tactical offensive with the explicit objective of forcefully capturing the advanced pregnancy that distended her skin to its absolute breaking point. Her frantic vector guided her frame flush against the trunk of a massive, profoundly dense Baobab tree (Bishiyar Kuka), whose deep shadows offered temporary concealment. She collapsed into a low squat, her lungs heaving with ragged, agonizing gasps for oxygen; her somatic data indicated her lumbar column was on the verge of fracturing into two distinct segments under the sheer pressure of the pain. She released rhythmic, strained sighs, mimicking an asset that had completed an uninterrupted marathon across a desert waste in the dead center of the summer season. Clutching her lower back, a violent wave of acute spinal and pelvic labor contractions locked her nervous system in a vice grip, feeling exactly as though a razor-sharp surgical scalpel was actively slicing through her internal organs. With painful slowness, she rotated her neck to scan her rear perimeter, checking for the tracking status of the horrific entity that had been anchoring itself to her coordinates exactly like a human shadow locks onto its biological host. Suddenly, a chaotic chorus of infant shrieks began echoing through the atmosphere, detonating inside her skull with the deafening force of a localized lightning strike! From every coordinate of the compass, the audio tracks of these phantom infants saturated her sensory filters, threatening to violently rupture her ear drums.
A bizarre fusion of hysterical weeping and demonic laughter began looping through the dense forest grid. Moving through the mist, her optical sensors tracked the dark silhouette of a massive entity advancing directly toward her coordinate. A localized, high-velocity vortex materialized, causing the surrounding trees to sway violently, their trunks bending to such extreme degrees that their root architectures threatened to tear clean out of the earth. Operating within a harsh, distorted supernatural dialect, the advancing shadow broadcasted a deep vocal transmission directly into her consciousness: "Your destination file is officially marked for absolute termination—both your persona and the biological sprout incubating within your womb! You have been converted into a destroyed entity, alongside the living seed your system carries!" Before her brain could process the linguistic text, her tactile sensors registered a cold, fluid mass rapidly crawling up her lower extremity—***Zuu!***—at the exact microsecond an intense, unstoppable maternal pushing reflex surged through her lower torso. She collapsed entirely onto the earth, her body twisting in violent, spastic contractions. Instantly, a horrifying vocal track—combining the high-pitched screams of newborns with the grotesque braying of a wild donkey—choked every corner and corridor of the dense forest, vibrating with such raw power that the geographic zone threatened to split down its center. Slowly, a horde of demonic infants began crawling out of the undergrowth, their limbs moving in synchronous patterns as they formed an absolute perimeter around her thrashing frame, encircling her body like traditional millet cakes baking in a pan. Despite the catastrophic degradation of her physical systems, she attempted to force her muscles to achieve a standing posture to preserve her life variables—but the effort was entirely useless! The physiological mechanics of childbirth reached absolute terminal velocity, and with a sudden, violent surge, the infant breached her womb, crashing onto the forest floor. With slow, terrifying movements, the newborn began tracking the wet trails where biological fluids and blood had stained the earth, lapping at the fluid with its tongue. The surrounding horde of demonic infants descended upon the spots, joining the consumption pattern, moving in precise geometric synchronization like initiates executing a high-tier occult ritual. Raihan, locked in her crouched posture, suddenly experienced a massive surge of adrenaline, her body jolting violently as though high-voltage liquid lead had been injected directly into her bloodstream. As she scrambled to achieve physical leverage, the placenta (Mabiyiya) exited her system, hitting the ground. Manifesting the raw, ravenous hunger parameters of a starved hyena, the demonic infants violently descended upon the placental tissue, tearing the biological asset to shreds, completely consuming the matter within a microscopic timeline. As though linked by a singular, distributed hive-mind network, the entire collective of demonic infants suddenly rotated their neck joints to lock their eyes directly onto her standing frame. Mimicking the physical mechanics of young baboons, they launched into high-velocity leaps, scaling her lower limbs and clamping their fingers into her flesh until they successfully occupied her upper torso. In a unified movement, they began lapping at her skin with their tongues. She unleashed a series of high-decibel, unhinged shrieks into the night sky like a certified madwoman, yet absolute zero entities among the horde displayed a single behavioral indicator of halting the consumption sequence. Down at her lower coordinates, her eyes tracked her own biological newborn, trailing the fluid lines on her legs, its tongue actively lapping at her skin. Completely losing her sanity, she screamed out the name of her biological mother with a voice that sounded like a soul being violently ripped from its physical vessel.
The Awakening
With a violent, convulsive jolt, she ruptured out of her sleep cycle, her respiratory system discharging high-velocity, panicked breaths like an asset that had just claimed victory in a competitive sprint. Her physical frame was shaking erratically like a spindle in a loom, her skin completely saturated in a thick, cold layer of sweat as though she were standing directly before a blacksmith's roaring furnace. "May your morning wakefulness be filled with absolute peace and longevity, Your Excellency," a calm voice intoned. Before her cognitive functions could orient themselves within the room, Mama Uwani’s soft vocal transmission registered inside her ears. She rapidly elevated her chin, her eyes wide as she scanned the room; her body was still actively vibrating with residual panic. She dragged her spine backward until it locked against the headboard of the bed, sealing her eyelids tightly as she forced her respiratory system to drop back into a baseline rhythm. "I register the greeting, Mama Uwani," she managed to whisper. "Does your station require the deployment of any material assets or services?" the elder attendant questioned respectfully. Raihan executed a negative rotation of her head, rubbing her knuckles against her eyes. She released a heavy yawn, stretching her upper limbs before locking her gaze onto Mama Uwani's frame, instructing: "Mama Uwani, execute the preparation of a hot tea blend before my system evacuates this bed layout."
The Pre-Wedding Ultimatum
Aseem sucked in a sharp, quiet hiss through his teeth, ensuring his irritation remained entirely unrecorded by the crowd. Standing at his exact coordinates, his facial features hardened into a tight, severe mask to discourage anyone from throwing further commentary his way. His entire psychological balance was completely shattered.
"Inno, is everything structurally sound?" Aseem demanded, his voice laced with cold friction. "What exactly prompted the entire population of this compound to execute a mass gathering here?"
The exact microsecond his lips sealed, every optical lens in the vicinity pivoted dynamically toward his frame, staring at his uniform and stance as though scanning an entirely alien lifeform. Dubu, meanwhile, locked her radar onto his position, her face splitting into a wide, completely unrefined grin. Her internal database had instantly recalled Yaya Babba’s explicit behavioral coaching on domestic manipulation (Kissa da Kisisina), which dictated that a permanent smile was the ultimate weapon to capture a masculine heart.
Consequently, Dubu exerted maximum facial effort, baring her teeth aggressively in Aseem's direction. She even hyperextended her neck forward, attempting to maximize her visual profile so he could easily track her above the heads of the surrounding crowd.
Hearing Aseem’s cold vocal input, Yaya Babba’s features contorted into a deep frown. "This is precisely my systemic issue with your character, Soldier!" she barked. "For God's sake, advance your frame to this exact coordinate and assist my station in auditing this structural crisis, or does your intellect desire that I process this psychological weight entirely alone?"
Aseem closed the distance with slow, measured strides, his frame laden with his heavy military tactical backpack and a rolling trolley suitcase containing his secondary wardrobe assets. Hafsa’s cardiac rhythms were operating at a catastrophic, high-velocity frequency, pounding violently against her chest wall as though her heart intended to violently breach her ribs. An unstoppable wave of desperate love for Aseem was aggressively occupying her internal system. Operating under stealth protocols, she lowered her chin toward her chest and rapidly wiped away a stream of silent tears, ensuring absolute zero entities logged her emotional distress.
The microsecond Aseem anchored near her position, Yaya Babba reached out, seizing his arm in a powerful grip. "Soldier, by the Almighty, calculate the exact number of calendar days remaining before your marriage covenant is legally sealed!"
Aseem’s facial features tightened further into a dark scowl. Turning his gaze away to bypass her optical line, he snapped: "My memory architecture has completely deleted that data."
Yaya Babba immediately bared her teeth, looking around at the assembled elders with a mocking grin. "Do you track the exact text broadcasting from his mouth? By the Holy Qur'an, Soldier, there is absolute zero historical data verifying that I haven't viewed your persona with high respect, so I demand your station grant me unconditional forgiveness! Almighty Allah is the ultimate sovereign ruler; look at the tier of romantic passion Garba displayed alongside Kandala during his youth—if this physical mud house possessed voice-broadcasting capabilities, it would step forward as my primary character witness! I have absolute zero requirement for Furaira’s legal testimony, for even within the parameters of the Afterlife, I have officially severed all biological ties with her lineage!"
Aseem’s lips twitched erratically as his motor functions attempted to generate a harsh verbal counter-strike, yet his intellect aggressively suppressed the output, deeply terrified of releasing an explicit disrespect against the family matriarch. Just as his muscles tensed to violently wrench his arm away from her physical custody, Inna Furai launched a high-decibel vocal counter-offensive:
"What structural justification authorizes your tongue to continuously broadcast my name across this compound?! I swear by the Majesty of Allah, even if our souls are stationed within the dead center of Paradise, I will aggressively discharge a catastrophic stream of divine curses directly onto the center of your skull!"
Yaya Babba completely filtered out Inna Furai’s vocal transmission, keeping her eyes locked onto Baba Shehu as she pressed forward: "And yet, until the exact day Garba legally finalized the marriage covenant of your biological mother, by Allah, my audio filters never tracked a single phrase of disrespect or rejection slipping past his lips! In absolute truth, I refuse to be associated with this modern youth philosophy; this trajectory must be terminated immediately. The unvarnished reality, Shehu, is that this marriage covenant will be legally sealed this upcoming Friday! Transfer these children to their respective matrimonial chambers immediately so our elders can navigate our remaining days in absolute peace! What logical basis justifies their behavioral errors compromising our spiritual ledger, causing our daily prayers to be rejected by the heavens while the Angels deploy raw wrath against our stations?!"
The Accelerated Timeline
Baba Shehu modulated his vocal frequency into a soft, highly diplomatic tone, attempting to stabilize the matriarch’s energy: "Inno, if your station could provision some assistance, let us permit the originally scheduled timeline to arrive. Our units have already finalized the printing of the formal wedding invitation cards and routed them to the entire guest database. If these young entities commit any behavioral anomalies after the crowds have dispersed, our elder council can reconvene and process the situation via structured dialogue."
Yaya Babba locked her eyes onto his face in a cold, unblinking stare, waiting until his vocal stream reached absolute completion before she struck back: "It is mathematically mandatory for your intellect to display my absolute boundaries to my face, Shehu! You do not even need to articulate the words; it has always been clear that my womb was not the biological incubator that generated these children for your pool!"
Finishing her sentence, Yaya Babba ruptured into a massive, highly theatrical fit of weeping.
An absolute, heavy silence instantly choked the space; every elder lost the capacity to generate speech. Baba Aminu elevated his gaze, swept his eyes across the secondary relatives and onlookers, and issued an absolute dispersal order. One by one, the crowd began vacating the coordinate, clearing the space. Aseem and Salisu were already standing as though their feet were planted on white-hot needles; before Baba Aminu could even seal his lips, their frames vaulted forward, leading the evacuation.
The space fell completely quiet, leaving only Yaya Babba, Inna Furai, and the core patriarchs, each navigating a deeply uncomfortable psychological environment. Baba Abubakar stepped forward, reaching into his traditional attire to extract a clean handkerchief, extending it toward her frame.
"Inno, wipe the moisture from your eyes," he pleaded.
Yaya Babba refused to elevate her chin to track his face, snapping: "Permit the fluids to flow unhindered! Once the supply is completely exhausted and my physical body ceases replication, your stations will finally achieve absolute peace!"
A collective smile crossed the patriarchs' faces; her dramatic flair had almost cracked their serious facades with laughter. Baba Abubakar turned his frame toward Inna Furai, requesting: "Inna, for the love of God, inject your maternal authority into this matrix so she can stabilize and permit a logical discussion."
Inna Furai turned her spine away, hurling a sharp, hostile glare directly at his face. "What specific tier of stabilization does your intellect require from my station?" she countered. "The absolute truth is that the structural trajectory Yaya has mapped out is entirely correct! What logical basis justifies this delay when the holy baseline of the Prophet is being displayed to your eyes, yet your stations choose to violently seal your eyelids?!"
Hearing her sister validate her stance, Yaya Babba doubled her weeping velocity, howling with renewed vigor. The elders waited until her emotional output had exhausted its peak volume before swiftly intervening. Deploying intense diplomatic pleading, they managed to stabilize Yaya Babba’s frame back into a seated posture.
However, no matter what logical models the patriarchs presented to retain the original wedding date, both Yaya Babba and Inna Furai maintained an absolute, ironclad refusal to yield. Left with zero structural leverage, the patriarchs bowed to their authority, officially shifting the legal execution of the marriage covenant to this upcoming Friday—leaving a microscopic window of exactly four calendar days.
The Four-Day Countdown
Beginning that very afternoon, Baba Abubakar’s sector initialized high-velocity communications, dialing their entire network database to inform them of the sudden contraction of the wedding timeline. Within the geographic perimeter of Ɗangwauro, the data spread like wildfire, saturating every household. Inside Hajiya Nafisa’s urban sector, the black bile of pure resentment reached immeasurable heights; she and her husband spent the entire night locked in a bitter, toxic verbal war.
Similarly, within Aseem’s coordinates, the hours of darkness were consumed by intense, silent fury. Yet Dubu remained completely unaffected; her system entered a state of deep, blissful sleep with an entirely relaxed consciousness. Hafsa, conversely, spent the night hours discharging a relentless stream of tears, tracking the reality that the countdown had officially crossed the threshold where her beloved would be permanently lost to another, shattering her lifetime romantic desires.
The exact millisecond dawn broke, Aseem bolted from the compound. The moment his boots hit the external pavement, he speed-dialed Nasir’s line, uploading a raw brief of the timeline contraction. Nasir deployed initial protocols of fraternal sympathy, but his baseline behavior quickly resurfaced as he questioned: "Hey, what specific venue have you secured for the bachelor party execution?"
The moment those words hit Aseem's audio filters, he aggressively terminated the call. Nasir initialized multiple follow-up connection attempts, but Aseem’s terminal flatly rejected every single incoming stream.
The domestic preparations inside the compound rapidly shifted into maximum gear, crossing both masculine and feminine sectors. Because the entire arrangement was confined within the extended family network, the formal delivery of the bridal trousseau (Lefe) to Dubu’s sector was executed seamlessly with only two days remaining on the countdown. Inna Furai and Yaya Babba dedicated themselves entirely to the physical optimization of the brides—soaking various traditional therapeutic roots, boiling specialized medicinal blends, and forcing the girls to consume the outputs.
Concurrently, a local skin-care aesthetician named Hadiza was retained to execute regular physical body-polishing routines. Dubu’s visual aesthetics shifted dramatically; her skin tone unlocked a radiant, high-clarity glow. However, her cranial layout presented a severe aesthetic anomaly: because her scalp had been violently shaved completely bare down to the follicles, tiny, coarse hair stubs were only just beginning to breach the surface. If an observer tracked her silhouette from a distance, they would swear by the Almighty that a young civilian male was standing in the corridor.
Every single material, financial, and logistical asset required to execute the feminine pre-wedding celebrations was directly financed by Baba Abubakar and transferred into Dubu’s custody. This massive influx of resource capital ensured that Dubu’s mind remained entirely unbothered by Aseem’s absolute physical absence from her perimeter. As for Yaya Babba, the rapid influx of extended family guests arriving from distant sectors completely consumed her administrative bandwidth, leaving her with zero time to monitor the couple's personal interactions.
The arriving crowds continuously broadcasted intense astonishment regarding Dubu’s sudden marriage allocation, given that the data linking her profile to a high-ranking military asset like Aseem had only been unlocked at the final hour. Nevertheless, the traditional festivities pressed forward at high velocity. As for Aseem, he ensured absolute zero entities within his professional or social peer network logged data regarding this union, save for Nasir; his intellect categorized a marriage to a primitive entity like Dubu as a catastrophic regression of his social status.
The Solemnization of the Covenant
Time: 2:00 PM Day: Friday The wheels of time grind with absolute certainty, and the day arrived. At approximately two o'clock in the afternoon on the holy day of Friday, the marriage covenants of the late Rosary Wielder’s grandchildren were legally sealed. Deep within the architecture of the Grand Palace Mosque of the Emir of Kano, Aseem and Dubu were officially bound under Islamic law.
A massive, sprawling sea of human heads witnessed the execution of the covenant. Salisu’s facial features were completely glowing, flooded with an uncontainable tide of pure joy. Aseem, conversely, stood within his coordinates consuming nothing but the bitter bile of raw psychological defeat. His personal contingent consisted strictly of Nasir and a microscopic group of fellow officers—fewer than ten assets in total.
Even this small contingent had only been activated because Nasir had independently broadcasted the wedding metrics to their network. The moment Aseem had discovered Nasir's unauthorized broadcast, he had launched a ferocious verbal assault against his comrade, culminating in a bitter argument before the ceremony. From the sacred grounds of the solemnization, the massive convoy turned around and migrated back toward the family compound.
At the base compound, the women had already transformed the space into a high-energy festival zone. Traditional calabash percussionists (Masu Kiɗan Ƙwarya) had been deployed, unleashing rhythmic beats that set the crowd into intense dancing. If an external lens tracked the sheer velocity and aggression with which Dubu was dancing and shaking her body, the observer would compute that she was a random hyperactive guest rather than the actual bride herself. Yaya Babba and Inna Furai were elegantly arrayed in high-grade matching traditional attire (Anko), moving through the sea of guests, managing the complex hospitality logistics.
The moment the masculine convoy returned to the compound, the photography phase was initialized. The grooms and their respective patriarchs posed for the lenses, their faces radiating profound familial satisfaction. The sole variable preventing Aseem from abandoning the coordinates and fleeing to his private quarters was the strict necessity to preserve his father's public dignity; he calculated that his absolute disappearance would trigger a barrage of uncomfortable inquiries from the elite guests. He forced his facial muscles to comply through the endless flashes of the cameras, before stealthily detaching his frame from the group and retreating deep into his private sector alongside Nasir and his officers.
The Matriarchal Sent-Off
Time: Nightfall The entire contingent of newly wedded grooms and their veiled brides was assembled within the sprawling master parlor of Yaya Babba. The room was tightly packed with their biological patriarchs, maternal figures, alongside Yaya Babba and Inna Furai. Since the Maghrib prayer hour had crossed the horizon, Yaya Babba’s tear ducts had been continuously active, leaking silent drops down her wrinkled cheeks.
Within the room's layout, every single bride sat with her upper torso completely cloaked under a heavy traditional marriage veil (Mayafi), presenting the culturally mandated performance of soft weeping—though a deep data audit would reveal their grief failed to reach their internal hearts. Several among them lacked a single drop of moisture on their skin. The grooms, conversely, sat with their chins deeply embedded in their chests, weighed down by an intense, overwhelming wave of cultural reverence and shyness (Nauyi) before the elder council.
Dubu, stationed beneath her heavy veil, dedicated her processing power to stealing rapid, illicit glances at the room's occupants. Finding her visual field restricted by the fabric, she routinely hoisted the edge of the veil, catching the eyes of the assembly through stealth maneuvers. The exact millisecond her eyes collided with the gaze of any of her maternal uncles, her motor functions would rapidly drop the veil back into defensive positioning.
Baba Munkaila cleared his throat loudly, initialized the opening sequence with a traditional Islamic supplication, and delivered the foundational marriage counsel. Concluding his transmission, he requested Yaya Babba and Inna Furai to upload their matriarchal wisdom to the ears of the youth.
Yaya Babba remained locked in an active weeping loop, entirely incapable of speech. Tracking this block, Baba Abubakar suggested that Inna Furai step forward and execute the address on behalf of the matriarch.
Inna Furai cocked her head dynamically to one side, countering: "Garba, my station does not reject your directive, but your intellect knows well that obeying the leadership hierarchy is akin to obeying Almighty Allah Himself! Since the timeline your group sprouted within this compound, have your eyes ever tracked my persona stepping forward to spearhead an administrative matter without Yaya initializing the sequence first?"
Yaya Babba rapidly wiped her tears away, interjecting: "Permit her, Furaira! His station desires that your persona violate the strict training parameters established by our late father, Malam! The unvarnished reality is that our lineage does not operate on such lawlessness. Do not dare display any toxic character traits before these young entities, lest their systems copy the anomaly and deploy it within their respective matrimonial homes! This is the precise reason my sister and I permanently execute righteous actions—to guarantee our inheritance files are cleared for the gates of Paradise!"
Yaya Babba finalized her text while locking her gaze onto Inna Furai. Baba Sule nodded his head in deep assent, stating: "The platform is yours, Inno. Bismillah."
Yaya Babba adjusted her seating posture, elevating her vocal volume:
"Converge your absolute cognitive focus onto my coordinates immediately, because the matrimonial journey is absolute zero game! Cast your eyes upon your biological patriarchs—it feels like just yesterday their frames were delivered into this exact parlor as newlyweds, and today, they have officially executed your own marriage covenants!
I will initialize my transmission with you female assets: by the Holy Qur'an, you must construct an intense fear of Allah within your souls and render absolute, unquestioning submission (Biyayya) to your husbands! If your systems violate this parameter, an absolute, permanent barrier will be erected between my soul and your lives! Furaira stands here as my ultimate character witness: even within the coordinates of the Afterlife, let no rebellious female asset dare approach my position or claim acquaintance with my person! For any female who fails to submit to her marriage covenant will, by the absolute decree of the universe, find her final destination file routed directly into the core fires of Hell (Wuta)!
Absolutely negative—sever my name from any chatter regarding the fires of Jahannam while I sit here in total peace! What business links my soul to that sector when my profile is firmly indexed in the elite ranks of the lovers of the Holy Prophet (S.A.W)? Render total marital submission so your systems can secure Paradise, allowing our entities to converge at the heavenly greeting stations in joy!
When my optical sensors scan the celestial horizons and track Zulfa, I will wave my hand in celebration; then my eyes will track Dubu, and we shall collectively consume the sacred waters of Al-Kausar, eating whatever our hearts desire and drinking whatever our systems request! After all, what is the actual remaining timeline of this earthly existence before your eyes? Munkaila here behaves as though he is a security guard permanently rationing the meat supply against myself and Furaira, denying our stations our dietary desires over foolish arguments! Absolutely negative—divorce my life from this toxic behavior! Render total marital submission so we can collectively consume premium meat and tender young chicks (Yan shiloli) in Paradise, entirely free from any human entity establishing boundaries against our consumption! If your systems reject this counsel, your frames will be dragged into Hell and handed over to the Angels of torment to execute severe punishment (Walmukalifatu) upon your souls!"
A collective burst of laughter rippled through the parlor; the sheer, unyielding intensity with which Yaya Babba mapped out her paradise logistics made it seem as though a divine guarantee of her heavenly status had already been signed and delivered to her while still walking the earth. She turned her frame toward the grooms, sweeping her eyes across their ranks before locking into a wide smile, stating:
"Almighty Allah is the ultimate sovereign ruler! Look at the Soldier's unit—his facial features are flashing with brilliant illumination! For God's sake, outside the holy parameters of marriage, what alternative institution could optimize a masculine frame in this manner?
Now, listen to my words with absolute focus, because before the Almighty, my station will tolerate absolute zero instances of you males taking my grandchildren and roasting dry beans (Gasa aya) inside their hands through harsh treatment! Absolutely negative—sever my network from that philosophy entirely! These children represent a sacred trust (Amana) deposited into your custody; your stations must treat them with supreme goodness, for the baseline of marriage is nothing but enduring patience. Your own patriarchs navigated those exact parameters to guide this family to its current milestone.
Look at Ado here, and the rest of your fathers—since the timeline I have co-existed with their units, my audio filters have logged absolute zero data indicating a single philosophy of severe domestic warfare arising between their stations and their wives. Within your respective homes, if any female asset compromises your temper, bypass her frame entirely, locate my coordinate, and deposit the report to my face—I swear by the Creator, her ultimate savior from my raw wrath on that day will be Allah alone!
Ensure your stations routinely provision them with fried meats (Ɗan tsire) and local chickens (Kaji); your intellects must register that these avian protein assets act as a high-grade binding glue that thickens romantic love. May Almighty Allah continuously multiply the population of chickens across the expanse of the earth! For were it not for their culinary intervention, your biological frame would have never been conceived, Salisu! Your biological mother sits right here, and I will broadcast zero falsehoods against her profile: the exact day she was brought into your father's house, by the Holy Qur'an, her soul harbored intense hatred for his person! However, because your patriarch was a certified master of purchasing fried chickens, I simply woke up one morning to find her gestation parameters fully activated with your pregnancy! For God's sake, explain to my intellect how a matrimonial home can survive if chicken assets suffer a severe market shortage?"
The parlor remained completely silent; absolute zero entities attempted a verbal counter-transmission. Yaya Babba dropped her vocal frequency into a soft, intimate register, concluding:
"Your systems recognize that managing the eccentricities of an elder requires absolute patience. Throughout my journey with your units, your actions have never deposited a single grievance into my ledger; however, I demand your stations grant me unconditional forgiveness if my words have ever bruised your spirits. Let Furaira now advance the counsel."
The assembly chorused their deep respect, and Inna Furai assumed control of the platform.
"My station commands only a highly condensed, brief capsule of counsel," she declared. "To the collective collective assembly, I command you to build an absolute fear of Allah within your souls; if your systems fail this metric, absolute zero variables will prevent our stations from discharging an aggressive stream of divine curses directly onto the center of your skulls!
To you wives: execute every directive, avoid every prohibition, and maximize your cosmetic presentation, deploying intense domestic manipulation (Kissa da Kisisina) exactly as our units trained your systems! Allah is the ultimate judge that if your profiles commit intentional transgressions against the Divine law, our hands are completely washed clean of your ledger!
As for you husbands: you occupy the structural rank of leaders. If these female assets commit an operational error, an absolute prohibition is enforced against physical battery or verbal abuse! For Allah knows our stations will tolerate zero abuse of our grandchildren; any male who lays a hostile hand on our grandchild—by the Holy Qur'an, the solitary entity that will prevent our station from dragging his frame directly to the Human Rights enforcement commission (Human Right) is the absolute cessation of our biological respiration! On this legal baseline, I broadcast boundless goodwill to your journeys."
The Matrimonial Chambers
Following the conclusion of the addresses, the patriarchs finalized the traditional send-off protocols. Baba Adamu ordered the administrative assets to carry in the mandatory bridal packages for each groom: a specialized containment unit containing fried wedding chickens paired with assorted soft drinks, distributing the packages across the grooms. Concluding this protocol, the elders exited the perimeter, and the brides were physically escorted into the private apartments of their respective husbands.
The moment the escort team initialized physical contact with Dubu to guide her frame toward Aseem’s apartment, she erupted into violent, high-decibel weeping, screaming that the logistics were completely invalid unless Yaya Babba’s physical frame was permanently relocated alongside her to the apartment. This frantic vocalization from Dubu violently struck Yaya Babba’s emotional filters, causing her maternal heart to crack. It required intense, high-effort diplomatic soothing from the patriarchs to stabilize Yaya Babba’s weeping before Dubu's frame could be successfully transferred into the private quarters of her husband, Aseem.
Aseem’s private apartment had been completely transformed into a high-aesthetic layout. Baba Abubakar had independently financed and procured high-end, urban-tier bedroom furniture, matching the living standards of the metropolitan elite. Her wardrobe and material assets were highly respectable, perfectly balanced to sustain a dignified, middle-class existence. Every component was brand new, releasing premium industrial fragrances into the air.
Dubu was guided into the center of this modern layout, where the escort team delivered a final round of cultural counsel before vacating the space, leaving Dubu flanked by her two primary village bridesmaids: A'ilo and Raliya.
Nasir spear-headed the masculine convoy escorting the groom to his quarters. Aseem marched at the front of the formation, his face a cold block of stone, while Nasir and two fellow officers reinforced his rear. The exact millisecond their boots breached the living room layout, Dubu dynamically hoisted her marriage veil, launching a stealth optical scan of the convoy. The moment her pupils locked into a direct collision with Aseem's glaring eyes, she rapidly dropped the fabric back over her features, bursting into a loud, unrefined, mocking cackle.
Nasir advanced toward her coordinate, announcing: "Our highly revered bride, we have successfully delivered your groom to your perimeter! Our system registers an intense hope that your station will guard this asset with absolute fidelity, because our ultimate objective is that before tomorrow's sun reaches its meridian, this deep indentation on his collarbone (Ramin wuyan) will be fully filled out through your domestic care!"
Aseem hurled a lethal, razor-sharp glare at his comrade's face, snapping: "Nasir, your life parameters are tracking dangerously close to severe violence!"
Before his lips could even seal, Dubu’s voice boomed from beneath the veil: "By Allah, a single calendar week will not elapse before your entire network navigates pure shock regarding his physical transformation! Your intellect completely lacks data regarding Laminu—the husband of my close associate Zuwai! His original profile perfectly mirrored the exact gaunt appearance of Me Lob (My Love), but as we speak today, if his physical abdomen is deposited before your gaze, your system would feel—"
The Domestic Explosion
A ferocious, deafening roar erupted from Aseem's throat, instantly jamming her voice transmission and locking the remaining syllables inside her throat. He turned his eyes onto Nasir, his face entirely devoid of a single microsecond of warmth, barking: "Vacate my private real estate immediately! My database never issued a formal invitation to your network to breach this apartment!"
Nasir unleashed a malicious, mocking grin, countering: "You absolute rogue, do not dare attempt to display your military rank before my station; our professional variables are perfectly symmetrical! Furthermore, within a highly compressed timeline, my own system will execute a high-speed romantic capture (Wuff) against a choice female asset, leveling our scoreboard to an absolute tie!"
Finishing his verbal transmission, Nasir deposited the heavy containment bag containing the traditional pre-cooked bridal entry snacks onto the table. Turning their heels, the officers exited the apartment. Aseem pivoted his frame toward A'ilo and Raliya, who were standing frozen against the wall like lifeless statues, and detonated a terrifying vocal command for their immediate evacuation.
Before his lips could even close, the two village girls vaulted forward in pure terror, scrambling frantically for the exit door. Their panic-stricken trajectories crossed violently, causing their skulls to collide with a loud, hollow smash—***Gware!***—not once, but twice against the doorframe before they successfully negotiated the door opening and sprinted down the corridor at maximum velocity.
The moment the apartment sealed, Dubu violently ripped the marriage veil off her head, her face contorting into an expression of deep, toxic resentment. "By Allah, your actions have successfully dragged my social standing through absolute public humiliation!" she screamed. "On what logical basis does your station violently banish my close associates from my quarters without even permitting them to collect the traditional financial compensation for greeting the groom (Ladan Siyan Baki)?!"
Before her lips could finalize the sentence, Aseem’s hand flashed through the air, delivering a sharp, stinging slap directly across her lips.
The physical impact violently jammed her vocal motor functions; she clamped her lips shut, instantly retreating into a dead, terrified silence.
Aseem strode across the room, yanked open a dresser drawer, extracted a fresh, traditional long robe, and marched out into the central parlor to access the compound’s external restroom facilities.
The exact microsecond his boots cleared the apartment threshold, Dubu’s survival instincts took over. She sprinted toward her leather suitcases, unzipped a containment unit, and rapidly stripped out of her heavy bridal regalia, changing her frame into a sheer, lightweight traditional nightgown.
Her cranial layout was completely bare—her shaven scalp was entirely devoid of hair assets, completely exposed without a single traditional headscarf covering the raw skin. She aggressively lunged at the bridal package, tearing the containment bag open, and began violently consuming the fried chicken leg with raw, high-velocity bites, washing the protein down with large gulps of yogurt, her eyelids fluttering in pure sensory bliss.
She was deeply entrenched in this animalistic dining state when Aseem breached the apartment door.
The visual anomaly before his eyes delivered a massive psychological shock to his system. His motor functions halted as his eyes scanned her appearance: she was sitting there entirely bald, her face heavily smeared with chicken grease and oil, completely unrefined. His mind struggled to compute how an entity possessing this tier of primitive behavior simultaneously commanded the urban awareness to procure and wear modern nightgowns. He slowly descended onto the edge of the mattress, his eyes locking onto her frame with a mixture of profound disgust and deep psychological frustration (Takaici).
Aseem had not even finalized his mental processing of this disaster when Dubu dynamically extended her arm, thrusting a grease-dripping chicken thigh directly flush against his lip line, proclaiming:
"Consume this asset, Me Lob (My Love)! Behold: the sacred chicken of true lovers!"
As she articulated the words, she initialized a highly exaggerated, comical fluttering of her eyelids, attempting to execute the romantic facial maneuvers (Farfari) taught by Yaya Babba.
Paralyzed by the raw absurdity of the display, Aseem's cognitive filters broke. Wrenching his frame backward, his hand shot out, violently grabbing a heavy, thick electronic charging cable resting on the mattress.
The exact millisecond Dubu’s radar registered the weapon procurement, her survival matrix calculated a catastrophic threat level. She executed a high-velocity leap off the floor, bursting out of the apartment door into the open courtyard, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Aseem, completely unhinged by rage, launched into a hot tactical pursuit directly behind her vector. They tore across the compound grounds, bypassing all secondary sectors, and did not halt until they violently breached the master sanctuary of Yaya Babba's private bedroom.
With a frantic, high-speed dive, Dubu locked her arms in a death grip around Yaya Babba’s torso. One of her hands was still tightly clutching the half-consumed chicken thigh, her face completely gleaming with a thick layer of grease and cooking oil.
Yaya Babba tightly wrapped her defensive arms around Dubu's frame, elevating her chin to glare at Aseem's panting form standing in the doorway, declaring with absolute authority:
"Cease your advance, Soldier! Across every single operational sector, your character permanently displays the ruthless traits of the infidels, entirely devoid of human compassion! Dubu is nothing but a tender, microscopic infant entity! Sever my perimeter from this military philosophy immediately—this young child has not even finalized the consumption of her bridal chicken asset, yet your masculine savagery is already tracking a deployment to violently launch an assault upon her flesh!"
BOOK 2: PROLOGUE DEPLOYMENT
The Nightmare Terrain
The massive, crushing weight and advanced physical geometry of the gestation profile protruding from her lower torso resembled a heavy, inverted earthenware basin strapped to her frame. Yet, this intense anatomical burden completely failed to slow the high-velocity, frantic sprints she was executing across the dark terrain to preserve her biological life variables. She was executing maximum-tier evasion maneuvers because a horde of grotesque, malevolent supernatural anomalies had materialized within her operational perimeter, launching a coordinated tactical offensive with the explicit objective of forcefully capturing the advanced pregnancy that distended her skin to its absolute breaking point.
Her frantic vector guided her frame flush against the trunk of a massive, profoundly dense Baobab tree (Bishiyar Kuka), whose deep shadows offered temporary concealment. She collapsed into a low squat, her lungs heaving with ragged, agonizing gasps for oxygen; her somatic data indicated her lumbar column was on the verge of fracturing into two distinct segments under the sheer pressure of the pain. She released rhythmic, strained sighs, mimicking an asset that had completed an uninterrupted marathon across a desert waste in the dead center of the summer season.
Clutching her lower back, a violent wave of acute spinal and pelvic labor contractions locked her nervous system in a vice grip, feeling exactly as though a razor-sharp surgical scalpel was actively slicing through her internal organs.
With painful slowness, she rotated her neck to scan her rear perimeter, checking for the tracking status of the horrific entity that had been anchoring itself to her coordinates exactly like a human shadow locks onto its biological host. Suddenly, a chaotic chorus of infant shrieks began echoing through the atmosphere, detonating inside her skull with the deafening force of a localized lightning strike! From every coordinate of the compass, the audio tracks of these phantom infants saturated her sensory filters, threatening to violently rupture her ear drums.
A bizarre fusion of hysterical weeping and demonic laughter began looping through the dense forest grid. Moving through the mist, her optical sensors tracked the dark silhouette of a massive entity advancing directly toward her coordinate. A localized, high-velocity vortex materialized, causing the surrounding trees to sway violently, their trunks bending to such extreme degrees that their root architectures threatened to tear clean out of the earth.
Operating within a harsh, distorted supernatural dialect, the advancing shadow broadcasted a deep vocal transmission directly into her consciousness:
"Your destination file is officially marked for absolute termination—both your persona and the biological sprout incubating within your womb! You have been converted into a destroyed entity, alongside the living seed your system carries!"
Before her brain could process the linguistic text, her tactile sensors registered a cold, fluid mass rapidly crawling up her lower extremity—***Zuu!***—at the exact microsecond an intense, unstoppable maternal pushing reflex surged through her lower torso.
She collapsed entirely onto the earth, her body twisting in violent, spastic contractions. Instantly, a horrifying vocal track—combining the high-pitched screams of newborns with the grotesque braying of a wild donkey—choked every corner and corridor of the dense forest, vibrating with such raw power that the geographic zone threatened to split down its center.
Slowly, a horde of demonic infants began crawling out of the undergrowth, their limbs moving in synchronous patterns as they formed an absolute perimeter around her thrashing frame, encircling her body like traditional millet cakes baking in a pan.
Despite the catastrophic degradation of her physical systems, she attempted to force her muscles to achieve a standing posture to preserve her life variables—but the effort was entirely useless! The physiological mechanics of childbirth reached absolute terminal velocity, and with a sudden, violent surge, the infant breached her womb, crashing onto the forest floor.
With slow, terrifying movements, the newborn began tracking the wet trails where biological fluids and blood had stained the earth, lapping at the fluid with its tongue. The surrounding horde of demonic infants descended upon the spots, joining the consumption pattern, moving in precise geometric synchronization like initiates executing a high-tier occult ritual.
Raihan, locked in her crouched posture, suddenly experienced a massive surge of adrenaline, her body jolting violently as though high-voltage liquid lead had been injected directly into her bloodstream. As she scrambled to achieve physical leverage, the placenta (Mabiyiya) exited her system, hitting the ground.
Manifesting the raw, ravenous hunger parameters of a starved hyena, the demonic infants violently descended upon the placental tissue, tearing the biological asset to shreds, completely consuming the matter within a microscopic timeline.
As though linked by a singular, distributed hive-mind network, the entire collective of demonic infants suddenly rotated their neck joints to lock their eyes directly onto her standing frame. Mimicking the physical mechanics of young baboons, they launched into high-velocity leaps, scaling her lower limbs and clamping their fingers into her flesh until they successfully occupied her upper torso.
In a unified movement, they began lapping at her skin with their tongues. She unleashed a series of high-decibel, unhinged shrieks into the night sky like a certified madwoman, yet absolute zero entities among the horde displayed a single behavioral indicator of halting the consumption sequence. Down at her lower coordinates, her eyes tracked her own biological newborn, trailing the fluid lines on her legs, its tongue actively lapping at her skin.
Completely losing her sanity, she screamed out the name of her biological mother with a voice that sounded like a soul being violently ripped from its physical vessel.
The Awakening
With a violent, convulsive jolt, she ruptured out of her sleep cycle, her respiratory system discharging high-velocity, panicked breaths like an asset that had just claimed victory in a competitive sprint. Her physical frame was shaking erratically like a spindle in a loom, her skin completely saturated in a thick, cold layer of sweat as though she were standing directly before a blacksmith's roaring furnace.
"May your morning wakefulness be filled with absolute peace and longevity, Your Excellency," a calm voice intoned.
Before her cognitive functions could orient themselves within the room, Mama Uwani’s soft vocal transmission registered inside her ears. She rapidly elevated her chin, her eyes wide as she scanned the room; her body was still actively vibrating with residual panic.
She dragged her spine backward until it locked against the headboard of the bed, sealing her eyelids tightly as she forced her respiratory system to drop back into a baseline rhythm.
"I register the greeting, Mama Uwani," she managed to whisper.
"Does your station require the deployment of any material assets or services?" the elder attendant questioned respectfully.
Raihan executed a negative rotation of her head, rubbing her knuckles against her eyes. She released a heavy yawn, stretching her upper limbs before locking her gaze onto Mama Uwani's frame, instructing: "Mama Uwani, execute the preparation of a hot tea blend before my system evacuates this bed layout."
Systemic Conflict and Dialogue Analysis