Level Up The Colony

"It was fine," he replied in a calm tone, before turning toward the staircase.

"You have ten minutes to freshen up and be back down here," his father said, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Or would you prefer to have your meal served in your room?"

Nonso froze for a second.

Anyone else in his position might have jumped at the offer. Breakfast in bed? No questions asked? Sounded great.

But he knew better.

If he chose that option, his father would be the one to personally bring up the tray.

Not as punishment, but worse, as a gesture of involvement. Awkward, stiff, painfully formal.

Nonso could already picture the uncomfortable silence, the forced eye contact.

It wasn't that they didn't care.

They just didn't know how to express it.

He wasn't always like this.

Once, there was a version of him that smiled easily and laughed freely.

But that boy was buried under layers of distance and retreat.

"I'll be down in ten minutes," he said softly.

Luckily, they heard him.

No need to repeat or raise his voice.

He turned and climbed the stairs, each step a quiet escape.

...

Ten minutes later, Nonso returned downstairs, freshly showered, teeth brushed, and dressed in his usual home clothes.

There was no rush, just the familiar comfort of a routine morning.

Everyone was already seated around the round dining table: his father at the head, his mother beside him, then his elder brother and sister.

One seat remained open which was his.

He quietly took it.

His family was religious, though not in the conventional sense.

They belonged to a sect known as Witnesses.

Their practices differed slightly from mainstream churches, with short prayers, private sermons, and strict traditions.

A quiet prayer was offered before the meal began.

Then the food demanded their full attention.

Hot fried rice paired with crisp salad, aromatic, colorful, and perfectly plated.

Everything about the setup, from the way the food was served to the polished cutlery and measured pace of eating, radiated class.

There was an air of controlled elegance, almost aristocratic.

No one spoke.

The only sounds were soft chewing and clinking utensils.

Even Dera, his older brother, who had been glued to his phone, put it down under the silent weight of their father's gaze.

His sister, on the other hand, kept her face neutral, but Nonso knew better.

She had a fascination with the Hunters' Society, quiet in appearance, but wild beneath when it came to what she liked

She was always listening for anything related to awakened abilities or hunter affairs.

Halfway through his meal, the question he'd been dreading came.

"You came back late This morning," his father said, his tone calm but probing.

Of course, he had come back late.

He'd survived a one-hour journey by sheer luck.

But his family didn't know he was a hunter, something he wasn't ready to reveal.

"I got caught up at night class," Nonso replied smoothly.

"That's new. Were you… with company?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he replied quickly.

"I got carried away doing what I do best." Then realizing how vague that sounded, he corrected himself.

"I mean… I was focused on reading."

His father nodded slowly.

"How's school treating you?"

Nonso shifted slightly in his seat.

He knew his discomfort showed, but his father pretended not to notice.

That was just how they were, direct questions, expected answers, no fuss.

"It's basic, Dad. I'm not in the main university program yet. But the school's fine."

"You will be soon. You've already cleared the preliminary stage. Just finish this, and you'll be in officially," his father said, voice filled with pride.

Nonso offered a polite nod but didn't echo the enthusiasm.

He knew what was coming.

With actual admission came increased pressure to socialize, participate, and belong.

Things he wasn't eager to do.

That was why his parents had enrolled him in Basic, a remedial program affiliated with the university.

It was for students who didn't meet standard entry requirements or, like Nonso, had circumstances that disrupted their chances.

Despite paying fees like regular students, the program allowed direct admission after completion, skipping the stress of reapplying or rewriting exams.

To outsiders, it might seem like a waste of money, a glorified extension of high school but for Nonso, it was the best path forward.

He hadn't failed to get into school; he'd just missed his opportunity.

Life had shoved him a step behind his peers, and Basic was his way of catching up.

"What about you, Dera?" their father asked, turning his attention across the table.

Dera, his older brother, didn't miss a beat.

His tone was casual as he kept chewing.

"I still have a year left, Dad."

"And your semester results?" their father asked, voice steady but loaded.

"They haven't released them yet. You know how slow the system is," Dera replied, his voice taking on a slightly pleading tone.

"But I showed you the last one, didn't I?"

"What are you doing now?" their mother asked, her interest piqued.

All eyes shifted to Dera, including their sister's, though she pretended not to care.

"I'm in my Industrial Training year," he said simply.

"Then why are you at home?" their father followed up, still calm, but with quiet insistence.

The questions were fair, but the way they bounced between parents, Nonso and Dera made it feel like an interrogation.

Nonso kept eating, pretending not to notice, but the tension was hard to ignore.

"I need money," Dera finally admitted, his tone almost sheepish.

"The place I'm meant to train at isn't anywhere nearby."

He went back to eating like the conversation was over.

Nonso glanced at his brother but said nothing.

Dera was 23, studying Marine Engineering at the University of Port Harcourt, A Federal University In Rivers State, the same one he was doing Basic in and the same one, his sister also attended.

Nonso could tell whenever he was lying but chose not to call him out.

Everyone had their reasons.

Everyone wore their masks.

Frankly, Nonso didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Not because he posed a threat, but because it was simply easier not to care.

Still, everything had a limit and he hadn't reached his yet.

That said, he had a strong feeling his father wasn't buying the story about night classes.

There was no evidence, no confrontation, just a quiet knowing.

One look into his father's eyes and Nonso could tell, his secrets weren't as hidden as he hoped.

Still, he suspected his father was choosing to stay silent, probably under the assumption that his son was finally making friends.

He wasn't entirely wrong… but he wasn't right either.

I won't even need to say a word before Dera exposes himself, Nonso thought, stealing a glance at his brother while chewing another spoonful of food.

If he had to describe Dera, Nonso would say he wasn't built for pretense.

While Nonso was an introvert, Dera was his polar opposite, an extrovert who consistently chose the wrong crowd.

He was a living example of why Nonso avoided socializing.

Always eager to belong, Dera often ended up being used and discarded.

He had nothing real outside the safety of their home but refused to accept it.

Still, he hadn't failed in school yet.

And that, more than anything, was the reason their father hadn't come down on him harder.

Then came the inevitable turn.

"How about you, Marvy? What's going on in school?" their mother asked brightly, though her eyes looked weary, like someone silently reevaluating everything.

Marvelous had changed since the university began.

She was always occupied, always serious.

The die-hard type.

Among the siblings, she was the least problematic, which probably explained why their father never gave her a hard time.

"Well, mummy… school is..." she exhaled deeply

"...stressful. I just want to eat. Maybe we'll talk about it later," she said, clearly drained.

Nonso smiled faintly.

Marvy was probably the only one in the family who could brush off their parents like that and still get away with it.

It wasn't that she disrespected them, they would have the conversation eventually but she had a way of controlling the timing.

It reminded him of when they used to sit and chat for hours.

Now, she felt like a stranger he couldn't quite figure out anymore.

The rest of breakfast passed quietly at least for Nonso and Marvelous.

Dera, however, wasn't so lucky.

Their father kept tossing subtle but targeted questions at him, trying to break past his defenses.

It wasn't out of cruelty, it was a warning, an attempt to guide before it was too late.

But their parents had always believed in free will.

They'd offer guidance and support to the best of their ability… but the choices? Those were theirs to make.

Choose your chains, as their father once said.

That was the deal.

Everything finally wound down when his father turned to Nonso and asked,

"Do you have any classes today?"

Nonso pulled out his phone to check.

He did, but not until noon.

That gave him just enough time to rest a bit before facing another exhausting day.