A long, long time ago, in an era when the world itself was but a vibrant youth, there lived two extraordinary siblings: Uka, a young man of unparalleled strength, and his sister, Onaivo, a woman imbued with ancient magic.
Uka was a legend in the making. From the moment he first stepped into a wrestling circle, his back had never once touched the dust of the earth. His name, Uka, echoed through villages and cities, carried on the wind like a triumphant drumbeat. He journeyed far and wide, from sun-baked plains to mist-shrouded mountains, challenging every formidable opponent he could find. Big men, small men, those as wide as ancient trees, and those as lithe as leopards – none could withstand his prodigious might. Uka remained, and was known, as the Unbeaten.
Meanwhile, Onaivo moved through the world with a quieter, yet equally profound power. She was a witch, not of shadow and malice, but of light and healing. Her hands were skilled in the ancient arts of herbal concoctions, capable of mending everything from the simplest sniffle to the deepest sorrow of a broken heart. Beyond her gift for healing, Onaivo possessed the rare ability of shapeshifting, able to transform into any creature she desired. Often, unseen and unheard, she would accompany her brother on his travels, morphing into a swift bird or a tiny insect, her watchful eyes ensuring his safety during his perilous matches.
One day, after years of triumphant journeys, Uka took stock of his conquests. He had wrestled and defeated every mortal worthy of his challenge, every great beast of the land. A profound restlessness settled upon his spirit. “What else remains?” he mused, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “How can I truly be the greatest wrestler to ever exist if there are realms yet unconquered, beings yet unchallenged?” A daring, almost reckless thought took root in his mind: he would take his wrestling prowess to the spirit realm.
With this audacious resolve, Uka began to gather his belongings, preparing for a journey into a world unseen by mortal eyes. Onaivo, sensing the dangerous path her brother was about to tread, tried desperately to dissuade him. Her voice was laced with urgency, her eyes filled with a heavy foreboding. “Brother,” she pleaded, “the spirit realm is a place of untold wonders and unimaginable terrors! It houses ancient gods and spirits, some benevolent, many malevolent. To challenge them to a wrestling match is to invite a swift and certain end!”
But Uka’s mind was as unyielding as the oldest rock. His pride, fueled by countless victories, deafened him to her warnings. Seeing that her pleas were futile, Onaivo, with a heart heavy as a storm cloud, finally relented. She directed him to a specific palm tree deep within the darkest part of the forest—a sacred tree whose massive trunk served as a living bridge between the mortal world and the realm of spirits. As Uka left their home, whistling a tune of carefree defiance, Onaivo made a swift decision. She would not let him face such peril alone. With a flicker of magic, she transformed into a tiny, inconspicuous housefly and settled silently among his packed belongings, unseen by her brother. Together, they embarked on the journey, Uka oblivious to the loyal, magical presence accompanying him.
Uka reached the ancient palm tree sometime after dusk, its silhouette a colossal sentinel against the twilight sky. With the agility of a seasoned climber, he scaled its rugged trunk, his movements swift and sure. Onaivo, still a tiny fly, clung tightly to his luggage, her multifaceted eyes observing every ascent, her mind already weaving spells and strategies that might ensure her beloved brother’s victory in the unknown battles ahead.
Upon reaching the spirit realm, Uka, weary from his climb, set down his load. He fashioned a makeshift pillow from his belongings and, without a moment’s hesitation, succumbed to sleep. Onaivo, ever vigilant, remained in her fly form, her tiny body buzzing softly as she stood guard over her brother, the only mortal in this ethereal land.
The next morning, Uka awoke to a sight that would have frozen the blood of any lesser man. He was surrounded by a gathering of the most bizarre and otherworldly creatures. There stood a being with a single, massive leg protruding from its middle, its body a strange fusion of man and earth. Beside it, a chicken, as colossal as a chieftain’s hut, stared at him with ancient, tusky eyes. These were but two among a multitude of strange, silent observers who had gathered to witness the unprecedented sight: a mortal man in the sacred land of the spirits!
Uka, fearless as ever, wasted no time. He stood tall and declared his intention, his voice echoing with a challenge that transcended realms. The spirits conferred among themselves, their forms shifting and shimmering like heat haze. Finally, the one-legged man-creature stepped forward, its voice a low rumble. It bade Uka rest and eat, promising to bring forth the greatest wrestlers of the spirit realm. “If you defeat them,” it boomed, “you may return to your world. But if you fail, your essence shall become a feast for our kind.” Uka, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and grim determination, readily agreed to the terms, preparing himself for the greatest, and perhaps final, wrestling match of his entire life.
Soon, seven formidable creatures emerged, each more terrifying than the last. The first appeared in the form of a man, seemingly the weakest of the seven, yet radiating an unsettling aura. The next was also man-shaped, but possessed two heads, four powerful arms, and four legs, its movements a blur of coordinated might. The third bore three heads, six arms, and six legs, a monstrous whirlwind of limbs. And so they came, each successive challenger more multi-limbed and grotesque, until the last and greatest of them all, a colossal being with seven heads, fourteen arms, and fourteen legs, a true titan of the spirit realm.
A wrestling circle was prepared for them – a rough patch of ground, littered with jagged shards and broken bottles, a cruel arena designed to test not just strength, but resilience.
Uka faced his first opponent. The battle was swift. With a mighty roar, Uka lifted the creature and slammed it to the ground. The judge, a shadowy figure, declared the spirit vanquished and dragged its unmoving form from the ring. Uka then turned to face his next challenger.
Uka wrestled without pause, day and night, for three grueling days. One by one, he defeated and “killed” each of his opponents, their forms dissolving into shimmering mist as they were removed from the circle. Finally, only the last and most formidable challenger remained: the seven-headed man-creature.
They met in a clash that shook the very air of the spirit realm. The battle was long, intense, and brutal. The combatants fought non-stop for another three days, their roars and grunts echoing through the ethereal landscape. Uka, despite his legendary strength, began to falter. His muscles screamed, his breath ragged. Finally, with a desperate surge of power, the seven-headed creature lifted Uka high into the air.
GBAM!
He was slammed to the earth with a force that seemed to crack the very ground. For the first time in his life, Uka’s back touched the dust. And then, he lay still. Uka, the Unbeaten, was dead.
The seven-headed man-creature, victorious, turned from the circle. It plucked some vibrant leaves from a nearby plant and, with a powerful squeeze, dripped their potent juice onto the lips of its fallen comrades. One by one, the defeated wrestlers stirred, sneezed, and came back to life, their forms reforming as if from a dream. The victor then issued instructions, and the revived spirits scattered, busily preparing ingredients for a grand feast to be held that very evening, with Uka, the once-mighty mortal, as the main course.
As soon as the spirits were thoroughly distracted with their macabre chores, Onaivo, who had remained a silent housefly throughout the entire ordeal, flew swiftly over to the discarded leaves. With a shimmer, she took on her human form. Gathering the remaining potent leaves, she hurried to where her brother’s lifeless body lay. Her hands trembled as she squeezed the leaves, managing to extract only a few precious drops onto Uka’s lips. But it was enough.
Uka stirred. He sneezed, a sudden, powerful sound in the quiet air, and his eyes fluttered open. Onaivo, tears of relief streaming down her face, grabbed her brother’s hand. “Run, Uka, run!” she whispered, and together they made good their escape.
They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, a desperate sprint for survival. They almost made it to the palm tree when a sharp-eyed spirit, turning from its chores, spotted them. “Alarm! The mortals flee!” it shrieked, and instantly, every spirit in the realm surged after them, their hunger for two feasts now driving them forward.
Uka and Onaivo poured every ounce of their remaining strength into their flight, reaching the top of the palm tree just as the spirits closed in. As they scrambled down the trunk, a desperate spirit lashed out with a long, spectral whip, a last-ditch effort to ensnare the fleeing mortals, for the spirits could not cross the boundary between the realms. The whip cut straight across Uka’s back, a searing pain, but it failed to find purchase. Brother and sister slipped away, successfully escaping the clutches of the spirit realm, forever marked by their harrowing journey, but alive.
Written by: Yakubu Binuyaminu Adeiza
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