Chapter 1: 동아프리카, 첫발을 딛다

When his fingers touched the rock wall again, a strange picture rose in his mind. It was not his own memory, but a memory belonging to this land. He "saw" a scene from a thousand years ago: great four-legged beasts moving in herds from the northeast, their hooves sinking deep into the soft earth, and then, in perfect order, skirting a hollow that glittered with fluorescent green bubbles. That was a breeding ground for poisonous insects peculiar to ancient times, and to this day a lingering miasma still lurks in the groundwater veins beneath it.

He began to make camp beneath the trees. As an exile, he no longer had a shelter, nor any companions. He had only this compass, and the ancient footprints that kept replaying in his mind. He lit a small fire, and the flames swayed in the wind, lighting his thin face, whose eyes grew ever more resolute. He took out the dry rations he carried with him--the only supplies left to him when he was cast out, a few cakes hard as stone. He chewed slowly, and every bite felt like chewing on loneliness itself.

The wind died down. In the distance, the shrieks of vultures faded away. The rough texture of the weathered rock suddenly grew clear, as though countless tiny needles were pricking his fingertips. A cold, hurried energy rushed backward along his veins, straight to his brain. The bone compass in his palm, once dull and lightless, now glowed from within like a coal set alight, shining with a bone-chilling blue light. Its needle spun wildly, then snapped to a stop with a crisp "click."

Oluwafemi's heart sank. He remembered the words of the clan elders: "Those greedy outsiders are digging up the ley lines. The sound of their machines is like a curse that never stops, day or night. If they discover us, we will lose even our last shred of dignity." Yet the compass pointed with unusual firmness, with an almost pleading frequency, as if urging him to set out at once.

Blinding searchlights tore through the night, turning a wide stretch of land deathly white. Dozens of heavy trucks stood in a long line, waiting to be loaded. Huge bulldozers were piling black ore into small hills, and the air was thick with dust and the smell of engine oil. At the edge of the work site stood a row of simple tin sheds, their lights dim and yellow, with figures moving inside.

Oluwafemi wiped the moisture from the corner of his mouth and stood up. Around him towered tall baobab trees, their sparse branches casting claw-like shadows in the dusk. He looked up at the sky, where the moon was peeking half its face through a gap in the clouds, and its cold light fell upon the wilderness, coating the dead-silent land in a layer of silver frost.

At first there was only a slight tremor, which then grew stronger, giving off a sharp, piercing sound of metal grinding. Oluwafemi frowned and tried to steady the compass, but its needle spun like an out-of-control top before finally pointing due west--the direction he had just fled from, and also the path leading toward the lands of human civilization.

Half an hour later, he found a hidden underground stream. Water seeped from cracks in the rock, clear and cold. He lay on the stones and swallowed greedily until the cramps in his stomach stopped. At the same time, the compass needle steadied and pointed ahead, its blue light much gentler now, as if confirming that its owner was still alive.

He took a deep breath and pushed down the fear and wariness in his heart. He thought of the ore that had been dug up, and of the frightened look on the clan elders' faces. Perhaps what those outsiders were digging was no ordinary mineral vein, but something far more dangerous. Something connected to the footprints of the beasts from a thousand years ago.

He stood up and brushed the ash from his clothes. The firelight swayed behind him, stretching his huge shadow long and throwing it into the darkness ahead. He gripped the compass and felt the warmth coming from it. It was not the cold of stone, but a pulsing warmth, like the breathing of some living creature.

He released the bushes, and his body slipped lightly into the shadows. The compass's blue light flickered in his hand, like a beating heart. He crept quietly toward the cordon, his feet silent on the soft sand. A guard's searchlight swept past, and in an instant he rolled flat and vanished into the shadow of the rocks.

He strode westward, toward the direction from which the roar of machines came. Each step on the gravel made a faint cracking sound. The wind grew stronger, rolling up dead leaves from the ground with a rustling sound, as if whispering.

It was not the wind, nor was it a beast. It was a low, rhythmic rumbling, like a giant beast of steel breathing. That was the sound of an excavator's tracks grinding over rock, the roar of a diesel engine, weary yet tireless, deep in the night.

In the center of the room stood a huge metal chest, open. Inside there was no gold or silver treasure, only a crystal giving off a faint red glow, and a thick logbook lying open. On the last page of the logbook was drawn a complicated symbol.

The compass's blue light suddenly brightened, and its needle gave a sharp tremble, pointing at the deepest shed among the cluster of sheds. That shed was different from the others: a cordon had been drawn around it, and two heavily armed guards stood at its door.

And beside the logbook was stuck a photograph. The photograph showed an enlarged satellite map, and on the map, the places marked in red circles were exactly this wilderness where he now stood, and... the mountain region where his homeland lay.

Oluwafemi looked down, and saw that the compass needle pointed toward a rock fissure to the northeast. Without hesitation, his body followed instinct--or rather, followed the guidance of this ancient relic--and crawled forward in that direction.

The further west he went, the heavier the air became. The cold moonlight that had been there before was now hidden behind thick clouds, and all around him fell into pitch darkness. Only the blue light of the compass, like an eye in the dark, guided him onward.

He studied the markings on the compass carefully. The needle did not point toward the small path he had come by, but veered further south, toward a great stretch of undeveloped primeval forest, and... the mining conglomerate's prospecting zone.

Oluwafemi did not run. He slowly raised the compass in his hand, and its blue light flared again, instantly lighting the whole room, and lighting too the fanaticism and fear in the stranger's eyes that he could not conceal.

Oluwafemi held his breath and pressed his ear against the cold iron door. He heard heavy footsteps, and a heart-stopping sound of electricity, like high-voltage equipment being switched on.

He crawled forward, drawing closer and closer to that mysterious shed. He could smell a strange chemical odor drifting from inside, like acid corrosion, or like an old corpse rotting.

The compass trembled slightly in his palm. This time, it no longer pointed a direction, but acted like a shield, absorbing the heart-stopping magnetic fluctuations around him.

At the door stood a man in black tactical gear, holding a sniper rifle fitted with a silencer. The muzzle was aimed steadily at the center of his brow.

Oluwafemi narrowed his eyes. He could not see clearly what was inside, but he felt the compass growing hot, so hot it nearly scorched his palm.

Under the bullet's impact, the crystal did not shatter. Instead, it burst in an instant into countless red points of light that filled the entire room.

Oluwafemi stared at the bone compass in his palm, glowing with a faint ghostly blue light, his breathing making a broken whistling sound between his cracked lips.

"No," Oluwafemi said hoarsely, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile, "what I found is the thing you are afraid of."

Just as his vision was blurring from blood loss and dehydration, his fingers accidentally knocked against a weathered rock half-buried in the gravel.

Oluwafemi stopped and hid behind a dense bush. Through the gaps in the leaves, he saw the mining zone.

"The answer is there." A voice sounded in his mind, like neither his own voice nor anyone else's.

Just as his hand was about to touch the rusty iron door of the shed, the compass suddenly gave a short "beep."

Oluwafemi froze where he stood. The compass's blue light vanished, and its needle stopped dead in the very center.

Inside the shed, a fierce quarrel suddenly broke out, mixed with the sound of breaking glass.

The firelight fell on the compass, and the blue light and the firelight intertwined, looking especially strange.

"Have you found it?" A cold voice came from the doorway.

Was he trapped? Or was there something there calling out?

"It is already too late. The satellite scan has already pinpointed..."

Oluwafemi stared at that symbol, his pupils shrinking slightly.

Gunshots echoed in the enclosed space, sharp and brief.

The sound seemed especially jarring in the silent night.

He pushed open the iron door and slipped sideways into the darkness inside.

But the bullet did not strike Oluwafemi's body.

After walking about half a kilometer, he heard a sound.

Suddenly, the compass needle began to tremble violently.

"Damn it, they are coming!"

That was the mark on the bone compass.

It struck that red crystal.

In that moment, the world fell silent.

"Hide it! Quick!"

Oluwafemi spun around sharply.

The stranger pulled the trigger.

No, that is not right.

Why?

Oluwafemi felt a surge of