《A Tale of Pride》


 Prologue – A Nightmare

    The heart of the forest was ablaze! The fire was ruthlessly racing to destroy any and everything in its path.


    In the centre of the expanding flames, a tall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged man stood confidently, staring at two angry and injured young men, both of whose faces, for some strange reason, appeared to be nothing more than a blur.


    "Give up; there''s no escaping!" The middle-aged man bellowed over the roar of the flames. "Don''t give me that look. It''s not my fault ¡°they¡± want you and your brother dead!"


    He spoke almost as if he was trying to prove his innocence to the taller of the two young men. Though it would''ve been far more believable had it not been for the evil grin formed by the thin lines he called lips.


    Seeing how neither of the two young men seemed to have any intention of responding, he understood his words were effectively falling on deaf ears, so instead, the crimson-haired man began to chant, "Spirit of the Sun, heed the call of your humble servant¡­"


    Raising his right hand, the flames that had been running rampant just moments ago suddenly became unbelievably docile, calmly floating above his head, slowly changing in shape.


    The taller of the young men appeared unwilling as he looked at the ball of fire slowly morphing above them. His ochre fists clenched so hard that his nails pierced the skin of his palm, drops of blood dripping onto the scorched earth below as he understood how grim the situation truly was.


    A gentle sigh escaped the mouth of the smaller of the two as he calmly faced the burning ball of death before them. "Take your brother and go."


    The taller man instantly snapped out of his daze, quickly turning to his light-skinned friend, taken aback by his words. "What are you talking about?!"


    "You and your brother are destined for greatness! Neither of you can afford to die here today!" The light-skinned young man answered unwaveringly.


    The shorter, light-skinned young man was the picture of serenity as he stepped forward, protectively placing his friend behind him.


    Realisation hit the taller of the two like a tonne of bricks. "You¡­ You can''t do this! I won''t lea-"


    "Just be sure you make them pay," the light-skinned young man said softly, interrupting his friend''s appeal.


    Then, like the crimson-haired man, he too began chanting. "Spirit of the Sea, heed my call¡­"


    The taller of the two watched from behind as his friend''s back seemed to grow in size as he prepared to sacrifice his precious life for theirs. The trembling of his body showed the pain he felt, but the tone of his voice revealed an even deeper resolve. "I vow to bring the heads of each and every one of those bastards and place them before your grave."


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    He took one final look at the crimson-haired man, or rather the symbol ¨C of a golden halo floating above a pair of snow-white wings ¨C sewn onto the black robe he wore as if to etch it into his memories.


    Suddenly, he caught sight of a shadow darting quickly toward the burly mage from his blind spot.


    "NO, STOP!" The dark-skinned young man screamed in a panic.


    The red-haired mage frowned when he saw the frantic look in the eyes of his primary target. Normally, he would consider that expression normal for someone staring death in the face, but at that moment, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a feeling of terror swept through him.


    He was about to turn to face whatever was approaching him when he felt something sharp pierce through his side.


    "ARRGHH!" The attacker howled in pain and anger.


    He spun round, only to find a child in his early teens, oddly similar in appearance to the taller of the two young men to his rear, glaring at him with eyes reddened by rage, gripping a dagger dripping with his fresh blood.


    Like the young men to his rear, the teen was also wounded. His body was full of cuts and bruises, and his left arm hung limp, clearly dislocated, not that he could feel it.


    The adrenaline coursing through his body allowed him to ignore any pain he should be in as he glared venomously at the mage with his big brown eyes that looked almost golden under the light of the flames.


    "[Burning Palm!]" The scar-faced mage roared, overwhelmed by pain and feelings of fury and shame for allowing a weak little child to injure him.


    The flames that had begun to dissipate due to the distraction of being stabbed now coated his hand, turning it into a scorching glove of fire.


    "STOP! PLEASE... I''M BEGGING YOU!" The older brother screamed in horror as he sprinted towards them, urging his body to move as fast as physically possible.


    His friend chanted faster, hoping to finish his spell in time.


    Alas, they were both too slow. Time seemed to slow as they witnessed the fiery hand of their attacker brutally pierce straight through the chest of the young teen, exiting through his back.


    "You¡­" The red-haired mage stared at the dying teen in shock.


    At the exact same moment his attack speared through the boy''s chest, the boy had re-thrust his knife deep into his neck.


    It was an attack he would typically be able to resolve easily, but due to his pain and mind-consuming rage, he was left vulnerable, allowing a child no older than 13 to get the best of him.


    As he helplessly began to lose consciousness, a feeling of immense shock and sadness overcame him.


    When he had killed in the past, as his targets breathed their last breath, they would show some combination of fear, terror, anger, and or sadness. However, never in his life did he think he would see a victim show a smile as pure as the one he saw at present, on a child who was bleeding and burning to death, no less!


    The boy paid his killer no further attention. His total focus was on his older brother, who was manically sprinting, much too late, in their direction.


    Like his victims, the mage had subconsciously believed that if he were killed, he too would feel one or more of the same emotions they had, but never in a million years did he think his last emotion would be one of regret.


    Not regret for allowing a snot-nosed brat to get the best of him, but for killing a child for reasons he was too low in the pecking order to truly understand.


    "I''m sorry!" The burly mage mouthed in the boy''s direction before all signs of life faded from his body.

 Book 1: Chapter 1 – Hunting Rabbits

    Jabari jolted awake, his breath hitching as if he''d been yanked from drowning waters. His bony fingers instinctively shot to his throat, feeling the unnatural thinness beneath his grip, while his left hand clutched his ribs as if bracing against an invisible knife. A cold sweat clung to his skin, his chest rising and falling in erratic bursts.


    Strangely, his hands had landed in exactly the same spots where the red-haired mage had been stabbed in his dream.


    "That same damn nightmare ¨C every goddamn night," he muttered, frustration seeping into his voice as he let his head fall back onto the narrow bed of roughly stitched-together animal pelts. His scowl deepened. "And why are the faces of the other two always so blurry?!"


    The wooden ceiling of the corridor-turned-bedroom loomed above him, warped planks offering no answers.


    Jabari exhaled sharply, forcing himself to replay the nightmare over and over, trying to make sense of the pieces that never quite fit. Sleep, however, was an elusive thing. No matter how much he willed himself to drift off, his mind remained a prisoner to the haunting visions, exhaustion clawing at the edges of his thoughts.


    It wasn''t just the dream itself ¨C it was the way he experienced it. Though he was a fifteen-year-old boy with espresso-brown skin, each time, he relived the moment through the eyes of a crimson-haired, pale-skinned mage. He felt the stabbing pain as if he were the one being run through, heard the dying thoughts of the burly man gasping his last breath. And worse still, the one who delivered the fatal blow ¨C the boy who killed ¡®him¡¯ ¨C looked eerily like Jabari himself.


    Except that boy wasn¡¯t malnourished. That boy didn¡¯t have the deep shadows of sleepless nights sunken beneath his eyes.


    Jabari had no idea how long he lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts tangled in a web of exhaustion and unease. Eventually, sleep crept upon him, a fleeting mercy ¨C only to be violently stolen away moments later.


    The nightmare struck like a viper, sinking its venomous fangs into his mind, wrenching him back into consciousness with a gasp. His body trembled, slick with sweat, yet his heartbeat with a strange, detached familiarity. This was nothing new. This was his reality.


    What puzzled him, however, was the strange rhythm of it all. The nightmare itself was vivid, almost too real ¨C the searing agony, the mage¡¯s torment, the slow, suffocating collapse into darkness. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he only ever truly awoke after the second cycle. He could endure the first, barely clinging to the edge of sleep, forced to relive the suffering but never quite breaking free. And in between, fifteen precious minutes of respite ¨C an oasis of silence before the torment began anew.


    It was a pitiful existence. No fifteen-year-old should have to live this way. At best, he scraped together a few fractured hours of rest each night, his body constantly teetering on the brink of exhaustion.


    Yet, this was all he had ever known. He never questioned it, never pitied himself. He simply endured.


    And so, the night wore on, an endless cycle of drifting off, dying in his dream, clawing for a moment of peace, and dying again ¨C until, at last, the first slivers of dawn pierced through the warped cracks of his so-called home, chasing away the horrors of the dark.


    With a groggy groan, he dragged a hand down his face, rubbing the heavy bags beneath his eyes before rolling out of bed. He gathered up his bedding, folding it into a neat bundle and tucking it into the corner of the corridor.


    As he pulled on his tattered trousers and slid his feet into his worn sandals, a door creaked open behind him.


    "Go back to bed," he murmured without turning around.


    "But-"


    "Bed!" His voice brooked no argument.


    A small huff sounded from the doorway, followed by an indignant pout. "Fine! But you have to say goodbye before you go this time!"


    Jabari sighed, the corners of his lips twitching at her stubbornness. "How could I ever leave without saying goodbye to my favourite little sister?" He finally turned to meet her wide, brown eyes.


    Even as he smiled, his heart clenched painfully. Inayah ¨C his precious little sister ¨C looked far too small for a ten-year-old. Draped in a yellow dress that hung off her frail frame, she gripped the doorframe for support, her thin arms trembling from the effort of merely standing.


    "Let''s get you back to bed," he said gently, sweeping her into his arms with ease. She weighed almost nothing, lighter than the bedding he had just stashed away.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He carried her over to her own sleeping spot, a makeshift mattress of layered animal pelts ¨C more than his, but still far from comfortable. Her long, unruly curls fell over her face, partially obscuring the weariness in her eyes.


    Jabari hated it. Hated that he had no way to make things better for her.


    "You don¡¯t have to look at me like that," Inayah whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "You know I always feel weaker in the mornings."


    Jabari exhaled through his nose, crouching beside her. "Then be good and rest until you¡¯re feeling stronger," he chided, though there was no real bite to his words.


    Inayah, stubborn as ever, lifted her chin. "I had to make sure you said goodbye to me before you left this time!" She crossed her arms ¨C or at least, she tried. The effect was somewhat diminished by how small she was, making her look more endearing than intimidating.


    Jabari couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. "If you''re talking about yesterday, I did say goodbye. You were just too busy sleeping to notice."


    "If I was sleeping, then it doesn''t count. You have to wake me up to say goodbye!"


    "I''m not waking you up just for that," he countered. "You''ll see me when I get back."


    "Then I''ll just keep getting out of bed to find you!" she shot back, her little nose scrunching in determination.


    Jabari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew this battle was lost before it even started. As stubborn as he was, Inayah could be just as bad ¨C if not worse. And he understood why she was like this. She was scared. Scared that if she didn¡¯t say goodbye, it might be the last time they ever saw each other.


    "Fine, you win," he relented, shaking his head. "I promise I''ll wake you up to say goodbye if you''re sleeping. Happy?"


    A triumphant grin spread across Inayah¡¯s face, her full lips curving in victory. "Yup!"


    "Good. Now get some rest," he said, rolling his eyes dramatically before being interrupted by a knock at the door.


    Jabari cast one last look at his sister. "Be good for Luna. I¡¯ll be back later."


    Inayah hesitated, then whispered, "Jari...


    Be careful, okay?"


    For her sake, he forced a confident grin, flashing it like a shield. "I always am."


    Jabari made his way toward the front door, moving with the careful deliberation of someone well-accustomed to caution.


    Before stepping outside, he crouched low and swept aside the scattered twigs he¡¯d placed there the night before ¨C a crude but effective alarm system. Satisfied, he pulled open the door.


    "Thanks again for looking after Inayah," he said as he stepped aside to let a skinny mixed-race girl enter.


    Luna, despite her own malnourished state, had the kind of smile that made others want to smile too. There was something warm about it, infectious even. The morning sun caught the light in her reddish-brown eyes, making them glow like polished amber. "It''s the least I can do," she replied.


    Jabari grinned. "You mean because I saved you and became the hero to your damsel in distress?"


    "Get lost!" Luna shot back, laughing as she aimed a half-hearted kick at his shin.


    Jabari dodged effortlessly, stepping just out of reach with a chuckle, his agility surprising for someone so underfed. Luna rolled her russet-coloured eyes, but the smile lingering on her lips betrayed her amusement.


    Just as he turned to leave, her voice followed him ¨C soft, yet firm. "Be careful."


    Jabari smirked. "Worried about your hero?"


    "Must you make a joke about everything?" she sighed, exasperation laced in her tone.


    He shrugged, flashing his usual carefree grin. "Life in the slums is too dull without a joke or two."


    "Just be careful, you idiot!" This time, there was no humour in her voice, no teasing edge. Only worry.


    Jabari hesitated for half a second before waving her off. "Relax, would you? I¡¯m just hunting small animals on the edge of the forest. It¡¯s totally safe."


    And with that, he was gone.


    ¡­


    Hours later, a pair of sharp, bloodshot brown eyes watched from the depths of the undergrowth. Silent. Unmoving. Hidden.


    Only a few meters away, two rabbits frolicked freely in the open greenery, their soft bodies bouncing playfully in the morning light. They were small ¨C barely enough to fill a stomach ¨C but to the patient predator concealed among the shrubs, they were a meal. And in the slums, a meal was worth far more than a feast of kings.


    Jabari remained completely still, his breathing slow and measured. He knew these creatures well. Knew how absurdly alert they were, how they twitched at the slightest hint of movement. They were prey animals ¨C constantly hunted, constantly wary, even when they played.


    And Jabari? Jabari was no predator. Not really. A true hunter had the strength to outrun its prey. He did not. His body, weakened by hunger, was far too slow to match their speed.


    So he waited.


    For forty-five minutes, he didn¡¯t move a muscle. He simply watched, biding his time, letting them lull themselves into a fragile sense of security. The moment they lowered their heads to graze-


    He struck.


    In an instant, Jabari was moving, cutting through the air like an arrow loosed from a bow. His rust-encrusted hunting knife gleamed dully in his bony grip as he lunged for the first rabbit.


    It noticed too late.


    The rabbit twisted mid-air, its instincts screaming at it to flee, but Jabari¡¯s blade was faster. The sharp edge slashed clean across its throat, a crimson spray marking the end of its struggle. It hit the ground with a twitching spasm, its life slipping away in seconds.


    But Jabari was already moving. His attention snapped to the second rabbit, which had frozen for a heartbeat too long before turning to bolt.


    He didn¡¯t hesitate. With a practiced flick of his wrist, his knife sliced through the air, a lethal blur against the greenery.


    The blade found its mark.


    The second rabbit barely made it a few feet before the knife buried itself deep in the back of its neck. It collapsed instantly, its body still.


    Jabari let out a breath, running a hand over his face before retrieving his kills. "Thank fuck I practised knife throwing," he muttered under his breath. It made hunting a hell of a lot easier.


    He bent to scoop up the second rabbit-


    Crunch.


    The faint rustle of leaves. Footsteps.


    Jabari didn¡¯t pause to think. He didn¡¯t turn to see who ¨C or what ¨C was coming.


    He simply ran!

 Book 1: Chapter 2 – Simian the Lion King

    Jabari didn¡¯t even make it ten meters before his escape route was cut off.


    From the bushes ahead, three men burst into view, their ragged clothes hanging off them like tattered rags. Filth caked their skin, the stench of unwashed bodies curling through the air.


    Behind him, he heard the unmistakable, gruff voice of one of his pursuers.


    "Haha, looks like we found you just in time! Why don¡¯t you hand ov-"


    The words died mid-sentence.


    The same voice, which had moments ago brimmed with amusement, now erupted in horrified disbelief.


    "What the fuck are you doing, brat?!"


    Jabari did the only thing he could in his situation.


    He stripped!


    "Not again!" The bald leader of the group groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Somebody, stop him ¨C now!"


    Unfortunately, it was already too late.


    Jabari moved with the efficiency of a seasoned madman, his movements so fluid, so practiced, that by the time the nearest of the four men had barely closed the gap to two meters, he stood before them in all his naked glory.


    Well, almost.


    The sandals stayed on.


    The leader, a muscle-bound brute with a sun-scorched, gleaming scalp, took a cautious step forward.


    "Hurry up and give us the meat, boy!"


    And then-


    "Woof!"


    Jabari barked.


    Like a feral dog, he lunged ¨C hip first.


    "What the...?!"


    The bald man leapt backward in alarm. But before he could recover-


    "Meooowww."


    Jabari twisted in mid-air, flipping toward the second attacker with feline grace, his claws (fingers) outstretched, his wild eyes gleaming.


    The man yelped, stumbling back in panic.


    He was a grown man, a predator of the slums ¨C yet, at this moment, he wanted nothing to do with the naked lunatic cat-boy charging at him.


    "Enough with the act!" the leader snapped, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Everyone in the slums knows your tricks now, brat!"


    Jabari ignored him entirely.


    With the seriousness of a warrior preparing his final technique, he dropped onto all fours.


    "Ribbit, ribbit."


    The bald man twitched. A vein throbbed visibly on his forehead.


    "Fuck this!"


    That was the breaking point.


    With a furious roar, the man lunged ¨C his patience finally snapping.


    But Jabari was ready.


    At the exact moment the bald brute charged, Jabari made his move.


    And it was unthinkable.


    A golden arc cut through the air.


    A warm spray.


    A wet slap.


    The leader staggered to a halt, frozen in place.


    For a brief, fleeting second, he seemed to be in denial, as though his mind refused to process the crime against his dignity that had just occurred.


    Then, it hit him.


    "ARGHHHH! YOU PISSED ON ME, YOU SHITTY LITTLE BRAT!"


    His roar of fury sent birds scattering from the trees above.


    His rage was only intensified by his pain ¨C for in his panicked attempt to evade Jabari¡¯s unspeakable attack, he had twisted his ankle.


    Which meant he couldn¡¯t chase him down.


    "DON¡¯T JUST STAND THERE!" he bellowed, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. "GET HIM! NO ¨C KILL HIM! I WANT THAT FUCKING BRAT DEAD!"


    But there was a problem.


    After witnessing their boss¡¯s humiliation firsthand, the other men weren¡¯t exactly eager to share his fate.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Jabari, however, had yet to finish.


    "Ooh ooh, aah aah."


    The sound was almost playful.


    Monkey-like.


    And then ¨C he picked something up.


    Something brown.


    Something¡­ solid.


    The bald man¡¯s eyes widened in sheer horror.


    "Boy, don¡¯t!" he barked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "Don¡¯t you fucking dare!"


    Jabari¡¯s eyes gleamed with wicked glee.


    He dared.


    The rabbit droppings sailed through the air like a gift from the heavens, spiralling toward their doomed target.


    The bald leader tried to dodge, but Jabari¡¯s aim was perfect.


    Splatter.


    A wet noise.


    A silence so profound, one could almost hear the wind whispering its condolences.


    Then-


    "I''M GOING TO KILL YOU!"


    The rage of a man desecrated by filth itself shook the ground.


    But it was too late.


    Jabari was already reaching for more ammunition.


    His gaze swept toward the rest of the group.


    They took one look at the steaming pile in his hand.


    They understood.


    And they ran.


    The bald leader wiped the brown sludge from his eyes.


    His chest heaved with rage.


    His hands trembled.


    But when his vision cleared-


    His men were gone.


    They had abandoned him.


    "Well, I¡¯ll be seeing you," Jabari chirped.


    With a casual air, he wrapped his clothes around the dead rabbits, concealing them from sight, and walked away.


    Completely unbothered.


    ¡­


    Jabari made his way back toward the slums, his weary body aching with every step. When he finally reached the footpath leading home, a low, raspy chuckle escaped his cracked lips.


    Serves them right for trying to steal from a kid.


    The memory of their bewildered, horrified faces played through his mind like a treasured performance. Scaring off would-be attackers had almost become an art form.


    His first successful hunt had been eight years ago. He had been only seven, and after what felt like an eternity of effort, he¡¯d finally managed to kill a lone squirrel.


    It had been one of the proudest moments of his life to date.


    That pride had lasted until he ran into another group of slum-dwellers.


    The moment they spotted the fresh blood staining his tunic, their eyes darkened with hunger. His small hands had gripped the squirrel tightly, desperate to protect what was his.


    He fought.


    He lost.


    They had beaten him black and blue and left him with nothing.


    After that, every time he was ambushed following a successful hunt, he tried everything he could think of ¨C running, negotiating, even hiding ¨C but nothing worked.


    Until one day, everything changed.


    He had been relieving himself, hidden away behind a bush, when he sensed someone sneaking up behind him.


    Desperate not to lose another hunt, he had turned to confront them, completely ignoring the fact that he was still half-naked.


    The hesitation in their movements had been immediate.


    It was then that an idea was born.


    Instead of pulling up his trousers, he aimed ¨C and fired.


    The result had been glorious.


    Since that fateful day, Jabari had refined his method like a craftsman perfecting his art. Each adjustment, each new trick, had been painstakingly tested until it reached its current peak.


    And though he had been robbed more times than he could count, he bore no resentment.


    This was the way of the slums.


    There were too few resources to go around ¨C food and water were worth more than gold.


    Laws had been established to prevent stealing and fighting within the residential areas, but in the wilderness?


    All rules vanished.


    If you wanted to hunt, if you wanted to keep what you killed, you needed strength.


    Jabari had no relatives. No gang. No allies. None that he could rely on in the wild anyway.


    He was still just a child ¨C a lone hunter, a boy forced to survive on wit instead of muscle.


    And so he adapted.


    Always!


    Jabari had barely made it halfway back to the slums when a sound ¨C an explosion ¨C rippled through the distance.


    His body froze.


    ¡°... Huh?¡±


    Before his mind could even process what was happening, the ground beneath him trembled.


    Then shook.


    Then violently roared.


    A moment later, Jabari was on his back.


    The earth beneath him lurched like a wounded beast. Gritting his teeth, he rolled toward the nearest tree, gripping its sturdy roots with one hand while clutching his hard-earned dinner with the other.


    The rumbling persisted.


    And then-


    "ROOAAARRR!"


    A monstrous, earth-shattering howl tore through the air, ripping through the silence like a blade through flesh.


    Jabari¡¯s ears rang. His body froze.


    And then ¨C he saw it.


    A colossal beast crashed onto the footpath in front of him, its massive body leaving behind a smoking crater in the earth.


    Jabari¡¯s breath caught in his throat.


    It looked like a bear, but its tail was that of a snake. Its towering, two-story-tall body was covered in brown, dragon-like scales, now dripping with crimson.


    Even in death, it was a terrifying sight.


    But it was not the beast that shook Jabari to his core.


    It was the creature that had killed it.


    A deep, husky voice thundered through the battlefield.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s it. I expected so much more from the famous Hunter Syndicate!¡±


    Jabari¡¯s head snapped toward the speaker, and the moment his eyes fell on him, only one word came to mind.


    Wild.


    The man stood atop the corpse of the fallen beast, a warrior carved from battle itself.


    His sepia skin gleamed under the sunlight, accentuating the sheer power in his herculean frame.


    Thick black curls cascaded down his back, framing a youthful face hidden beneath a dense, unkempt beard.


    He was dressed in a long, sleeveless white robe, embroidered with violet-coloured tribal patterns that shimmered like lightning across fabric.


    The robe should have made him look regal.


    Instead, it only amplified the raw, untamed ferocity in his dark brown eyes.


    And resting against his shoulder, like a mere accessory, was a giant, rectangular heavy sword ¨C a weapon bigger than him.


    Jabari had never seen anyone like him.


    Never.


    And then, following the warrior¡¯s line of sight, he saw him.


    A second figure.


    The figure approached slowly, methodically, draped in a long, black hooded robe.


    In his hand, a wooden staff gleamed, glowing with esoteric runes. At its crown, a crimson gemstone pulsed with energy, like a heart beating with fury.


    Then-


    "Spirit of the Sun, heed my call..."


    The voice was calm. Measured.


    And filled with power.


    A savage grin split the warrior¡¯s face.


    "HAHA, GOOD MAN!" he roared. "I was afraid you''d run with your tail between your legs after I killed your little pet!"


    But the mage did not flinch.


    Instead, the gem atop his staff ignited, and a blazing sphere of fire erupted in front of him, growing larger, hotter, deadlier with each second.


    Jabari could feel the heat from where he stood.


    It burned.


    It threatened to consume.


    And yet-


    The warrior laughed.


    "HAHA, COME!"


    With an earth-shaking leap, he charged.


    His sword cleaved downward, aiming to split the mage in half.


    "... [BURNING PILLAR]!"


    The fireball exploded, transforming into a pillar of flame so colossal that it threatened to devour the heavens themselves.


    Jabari barely had time to register the impact.


    BOOM!


    The blast sent him flying.


    His body spun through the air.


    But somehow ¨C somehow ¨C he still kept hold of his dinner.


    The dust settled.


    The mage stood tall, gazing at the smoke-filled crater with detached finality.


    "Simian the Lion King¡­ You were strong, but you let your arrogance get the better of you."


    He turned.


    And then-


    The world spun.


    His head fell.


    His body collapsed.


    Simian the Lion King never even looked back.


    "It¡¯s hard to believe trash like you would even think about targeting the family of His Highness."


    He swung his bloodied sword over his shoulder, picked up the mage¡¯s corpse, and sighed.


    "You could¡¯ve at least left your pet intact. It would¡¯ve made for a fine feast."

 Book 1: Chapter 3 – Fuzzy Heart of a Grumpy Old Man

    Jabari lay sprawled across the floor, stark naked, desperately trying to regain a hold of his senses.


    As the ringing in his ears faded and his vision stilled, Jabari turned his head toward the blast site, only to see the barbaric young warrior casually walking in his direction.


    At any other time, Jabari would have stared in amazement at the man who seemed to be without so much as a scratch on him despite facing the brunt of such a terrifying attack. But in that moment, Jabari felt an intense wave of fear and inferiority well up inside him, the likes of which he had never felt before.


    Over the years, Jabari had run into several nobles from the tribe''s main settlement, and they would always give him looks of disdain and disgust, but he had always paid it no mind. As far as he was concerned, they could only look at him like that because they were lucky enough to be born into families of noble lineage. Had they been given the same start, he would be inferior to none of them.


    But this was different. As Jabari made direct eye contact with Simian, a stifling pressure overwhelmed him. It was as though it didn''t matter where he was born or what he did; he would forever remain inferior.


    If that wasn''t bad enough, Jabari watched as Simian lifted his eyes from him. There was no scorn, no disdain, and no disgust. There was only apathy.


    Even though he was naked and sprawled out in his path, Simian remained completely indifferent as he stepped on Jabari''s stomach as if it were the floor, carrying on with his day as usual. It was the look you''d expect a human to give an ant on their path.


    Other than the involuntary gasp caused by the lack of oxygen, Jabari showed no other reaction.


    His eyes glazed over as he stared at the clear blue skies, his face void of emotion as Simian disappeared into the distance.


    He lay in the same position for over two hours before calmly getting up and returning down the cobbled path, the gains from his hunt still in his hand. What was going through his mind was a mystery. It was only when he was nearing his destination that he finally woke from his daze, light finally returning to his formerly dull, big brown eyes.


    Looking ahead, Jabari saw the path continue toward a tall, ornate gate. Several domineering guards were stationed outside to prevent unwanted intruders from entering. Each looked far more alert than usual.


    That was the gate to the Umeme Tribe¡¯s main settlement, where all the nobles lived.


    It was said that no one ever went hungry inside and that water didn¡¯t need to be recycled. Even from his position, despite being almost 100 meters away, the air smelled far cleaner than the polluted oxygen in the slums.


    Jabari would usually sigh when he thought about how lavish their lives must be behind those gates, but today, he barely gave it a passing glance before stepping off the main path and following a worn and tired trail toward the slums.


    It was utterly rundown and smelled like a freshly used toilet. Unlike the entrance to the main settlement, there was no one standing guard or even gates to enter through.


    All the buildings were made of discarded materials such as wood, cardboard, and mesh. Still, it didn''t bother him; the slums were the only home he had ever known.


    Only when he re-entered the slums did his eyes regain their usual focus. He pushed all thoughts of what had happened earlier to the recess of his mind.


    Making his way through the dreary streets, Jabari barely acknowledged the shouts of a man missing nearly all his front teeth, save for a single bright yellow one in the centre of his mouth. The man also had a bald patch in the middle of his afro, large enough to fit a crown.


    "Oi brat, what did you hunt this time?" he hollered.


    Jabari didn¡¯t bother to look, let alone respond.


    "I know you got something. The only time you come back naked is when you use that shameless naked lunatic act to protect your food," the man continued, a greedy light flashing in his eyes. "C''mon kid, don''t be like that; I just want to-"


    "MOOOOOOOOO!" Jabari bellowed, imitating a cow as he leapt toward the man, wildly spinning his not-so-little snake like a windmill.


    "Forget it!" the yellow-toothed man grumbled, rolling his eyes at Jabari¡¯s antics. "I was just going to tell you that if you joined our hunting team, you wouldn''t need to resort to that shameless little trick of yours anymore."


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "So I could do all the humping and dumping and only get a tiny piece of the gains?" Jabari asked sarcastically.


    "A tiny piece of something is better than all of nothing," the man retorted, ignoring the boy¡¯s sarcasm.


    "True, but all of everything is better than a tiny piece of something," Jabari replied lazily before walking away, still completely nude.


    It took the toothless man a moment to register Jabari¡¯s rejection before replying, "Your luck won¡¯t last forever, brat. Sooner or later, people are gonna figure out a method of dealing with your stupid nude technique, and then you¡¯re going to beg me for a spot on my hunting squ-


    ... Insolent brat!" he grumbled to himself when he noticed Jabari had long since disappeared.


    Jabari, who had already turned a corner while the man was still ranting, made his way down a lane filled with shops and stalls selling various low-quality miscellaneous goods.


    His nudity caught the attention of everyone he passed, but he paid them no mind as he entered a small, bleak shop. Despite the bustling foot traffic outside, this was the only shop devoid of customers.


    In the corner of the shop, behind a counter made of rotting wood, Jabari spotted a grey-haired, hunchbacked old man snoring away in his rocking chair. A snot bubble as large as a child''s fist expanded and shrunk with each breath.


    Jabari wrapped his bony, malnourished fist against the counter surface, waking the old man from his dreams.


    "Huh¡­


    Ooh, it¡¯s just you, kid." The old man jolted awake and was about to drift back to sleep when he noticed the teen¡¯s attire ¨C or rather, lack thereof. "How many times do I have to tell you to put your damn clothes on before entering my shop? I don¡¯t want to wake up to such an off-putting sight!"


    The old man continued his little rant as Jabari began putting on his blood-stained clothing. "And why do you always come when I¡¯m napping? Has no one ever told you not to disturb the sleep of the elderly?"


    "I grew up with no parents, so I had no one to teach me the manners required when speaking to wise seniors such as yourself," Jabari replied with the most pitiful expression he could muster.


    "What do you want this time?" the old man asked, ignoring the boy¡¯s blatant attempt to rouse his compassion.


    As the elderly man¡¯s eyes fell on Jabari¡¯s body, he noticed the various cuts, bruises, and burns that covered it, but if the boy didn¡¯t wish to say anything, he wouldn¡¯t pry.


    "I am forced to risk my fragile little life on a daily basis to provide food for my sweet younger sister and myself, and today, all I managed to catch after a lot of effort is this rabbit. Can you believe it? This tiny little rabbit is supposed to feed two growing and very hungry children," Jabari voiced, throwing in a few sniffles for dramatic effect.


    "I even had to risk my life to make sure that those cruel adult hunters didn''t steal our meal. But as much as we need this food, we need fresh water even more so that neither I nor my pitiful baby sister dies from dehydration," he said humbly.


    The old man raised his eyebrows, grabbed his cane, and knocked Jabari on the forehead with surprising speed. "Enough with the sob story already. Hurry up and take a litre of water from the back."


    "I don''t think that just one litre will be able to cut it this time," Jabari said shamelessly. "We need at least four if we are to survive another ni-"


    Just as Jabari really started getting into the negotiations, he saw the look of warning in the old man''s eyes. He didn''t need to say a word for Jabari to understand that he would reduce the amount offered if he continued speaking.


    Jabari''s expression immediately went from one of self-pity to extreme glee. He flashed the grey-haired old man a radiant smile before grabbing a large container and rushing round the back to fill it with water before asking for a bag to carry everything.


    He packed the water and rabbit and then deftly packed the second rabbit he had slyly hidden in his clothes from the old man.


    He then walked back into the room where the old man was sitting. Looking him directly in the eyes, Jabari sincerely thanked him before preparing to take his leave.


    He knew better than anyone that the old man didn''t have to give him any of his water for free, especially in the slums where water was a highly sought-after commodity. So, despite always cheekily asking for more, Jabari was genuinely grateful for the kindness he showed them.


    Just as he passed the old man to head for the door, Jabari felt an unexpected whack at the back of his head.


    "Ow! What was that for?!" Jabari asked while rubbing the back of his head.


    "For doing such a crappy job at hiding the other rabbit," the old man snorted with a knowing smirk.


    Jabari didn''t seem the slightest bit surprised by the old man''s deduction as he merely shrugged. "One of these days, I''ll get one over on you."


    "You''re a thousand years too young to accomplish that," the old man said drily as he closed his eyes, no longer paying the teen any attention.


    Seeing that, Jabari knew it was time for him to leave. He thanked him once more before continuing towards the exit.


    At the door, he turned and looked back with a grin. "I don''t understand why you pretend to be grumpy all the time; if you were to show the rest of the slums your warm fuzzy heart, things would..."


    Before he had time to finish his sentence, he was forced to quickly duck down as the old man''s cane flew towards his head with surprising accuracy.


    Jabari chuckled as he opened the front door.


    "Oi brat..."


    Turning around, Jabari saw the earnest expression on the old man''s face.


    "Is everything alright?"


    Hearing his question, Jabari subconsciously thought back to the moment he made eye contact with Simian.


    "I''m just thinking about our lack of water," Jabari replied with mock anxiety to mask his true emotions.


    "Just get out already!" the old man barked as he reached for his shabby sandal to throw.


    "Haha, I''ll see you tomorrow, Gramps!" Jabari said before taking his leave.


    "Cheeky little brat! He''s becoming more and more disrespectful by the day!" the old man snorted as he closed his eyes once more.


    As he leaned back in his chair, he couldn''t help but think back to the cuts and bruises on Jabari''s naked body and the glazed look on his face when asked if the boy was alright. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he drifted back to sleep.

 Book 1: Chapter 4 – I’ll Always Love You

    As soon as he left the shop, Jabari''s expression automatically returned to one of vigilance as he kept to the shadows in the back alleys while evading being seen.


    Fifteen minutes later, as Jabari neared his residence, his attention was caught by two men arguing on the street.


    It appeared that, like Jabari, one of the men had been ambushed by the other man and his hunting party, resulting in his food being stolen.


    The argument was becoming more heated and intense by the second, but just before coming to blows, both men stilled as they caught sight of something out of the corners of their eyes.


    Following their line of vision, Jabari saw a tall, domineering, dark-skinned man donning armour.


    The armour was somewhat similar to the warriors that guarded the Umeme Tribe''s main gates, only rustier and a bit too closely fitted. However, that did nothing to lessen the overall impact of the man''s presence.


    There was also a crowd that had gathered to enjoy the show, but now they quickly turned and hurried away with heads lowered, not wanting to breathe too loudly in case it drew the ire of the armoured man.


    He was one of the enforcers of the slums. It was their job to ensure all residents followed the very few laws of the slums: no fighting, no stealing, and most importantly, no killing!


    There were only twenty enforcers, and none were actually from the tribe''s main settlement; in fact, each and every one of them was a slum resident, just like Jabari.


    They were chosen by the nobles because they had proven themselves to be the twenty strongest combatants of the slums. They enforced the laws and, as a reward, were given rusty armour and weapons to protect themselves, as well as clean water and fresh food for themselves and their families.


    It was the only job wanted by anyone with no way out of the hell hole that was the slums, Jabari included. Unfortunately, the only way to become an enforcer was to defeat one of the twenty in a fair battle to the death, supervised by the other enforcers and a noble from the tribe.


    It was rare for an enforcer to be replaced, though. Unlike virtually everyone else in the slums, they never went hungry and had a lot of spare time to train. As a result, they were physically superior to the rest of the hungry residents in the slums who greedily eyed their positions.


    Jabari''s eyes would usually turn fiery at the thought of taking the place of any of the twenty, believing that it may well be the only position available to him that would allow him to ensure the safety of him and Inayah. But today, though his eyes were ablaze as he looked at the domineering enforcer, it was almost as though he was looking past him at something else...


    No, someone else!


    Either way, that was a matter for another day. For now, with the conflict having come to a forced early conclusion, Jabari turned to make his way back to his own accommodation.


    ¡­


    "I''m home," Jabari announced upon returning to his dilapidated hut.


    "Shhh." Luna hurried out of Inayah''s room with her index finger over her mouth, her voice quiet enough that Jabari could only just about hear her despite standing so close to her. "Your sister''s only just fallen back to sleep," Luna whispered.


    "Ahh, ok, thanks," Jabari whispered back, automatically glancing worriedly at the closed door of Inayah''s bedroom.


    Looking down at Jabari''s sack, Luna noticed drops of blood leaking onto the floor. "Successful hunt, I take it?"


    Following her line of sight, Jabari saw the drops of blood on the creaky wooden floorboards. With the sole of his shabby brown sandals, he rubbed the blood into the floor as he replied, "Yeah, fortunately!"


    "Did you go and scam Mr. Lethabo for water again?" Luna asked playfully, noticing how full his sack was.


    "Scam? I''ll have you know, I''m a respectable young man who wouldn''t dream of doing anything as shameless as scamming the elderly!" Jabari snorted as if he''d taken great offence to her question.


    "Whatever you say!" Luna replied, too lazy to argue with someone so shameless. "I still don''t understand how you actually manage to get anything from him in the first place. His prices are exorbitant, and he doesn''t negotiate with anyone. He doesn''t even give a discount to the enforcers when they try to barter with him."


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "How is he able to get away with that anyway? Everyone knows the enforcers tend to take whatever they want, from whoever they want, whenever they want!" Jabari asked, always very interested in any information about the old man.


    "I have no idea; some people say it''s because he was a former enforcer himself. Others say he''s backed directly by the nobles of the main settlement, which is how he''s able to obtain a constant supply of fresh water despite nobody ever seeing him leave the shop. Some even believe that he may be an undercover noble here to keep an eye on us and prevent us from going against the tribe''s will."


    "A noble?" Jabari asked. "Don''t be stupid!"


    "I never said it was true; I''m just telling you what I''ve heard. Either way, all that anyone knows for sure is that the old man is the only person that even the guards don''t dare to annoy," Luna explained as she made her way to the door. "Anyway, I have to go; my mom told me to be back as early as possible."


    "Thanks again for today," Jabari said sincerely.


    "It''s fine," she said, opening the door before turning back around. "Are you taking Inayah to the aptitude test tomorrow?"


    Jabari nodded firmly as he answered. "We wouldn''t miss it. This is Yah-Yah''s best chance of escaping this hell hole."


    "Is it bad that I''m jealous of Inayah for having such a great big brother?" Luna asked, her question catching Jabari off guard. "Anyway, I''ll see you there," Luna replied as she quickly took her leave, not giving him a chance to respond.


    Thinking about Luna''s words, Jabari couldn''t help but glance at Inayah''s door. If it weren''t for Inayah''s presence in his life, Jabari would have long been driven insane by his constant nightmares. It was his love for her and his need to protect her that gave him the strength to carry on each day.


    ''She''s the one saving me,'' Jabari thought to himself before heading back outside to prepare dinner.


    Outside, Jabari began to skin one of the rabbits using his rusty throwing knife before cooking it over a self-made fire.


    Whilst it was cooking, he quietly entered Inayah''s room and found her still sleeping peacefully on her bed. A warm and gentle smile touched his lips as he looked at his sister''s sleeping figure before quietly leaving her room.


    In the hallway, he reached under his "bedding" and picked up three more rusty yet surprisingly sharp knives and headed back outside, where he began to diligently practice his knife throwing, only stopping to check that the food wasn''t burning.


    Whilst practising, he heard the door to his "home" open, and the indignant voice of his sister reached his ears. "Why didn''t you wake me when you got back?"


    Turning around, Jabari breathed a sigh of relief as he saw how much stronger Inayah appeared compared to this morning before he left.


    As a slum resident, Jabari had no access to healers or medicine of any kind, so he was frantic with worry, not knowing what was wrong with her. All he knew was that she''d continuously go through extended but sporadic periods of severe weakness that made it difficult for her to walk around like a normal child her age.


    Unfortunately, those weak periods became longer and more frequent as time passed, making him increasingly worried and scared. All he could do was try his best to hide his worries from her so she could rest easier.


    It was moments like these, seeing her able to walk around without support, that temporarily eased his mind ¨C albeit only slightly.


    "Babies need their sleep," Jabari teased as he softly flicked her ear.


    "I''m not a baby!" Inayah pouted.


    Jabari merely stroked her head lovingly, which seemed to appease and relax her as she closed her eyes and smiled.


    "Go take a seat whilst I share out dinner," Jabari said gently, pointing to the logs by the front of their home.


    After putting out the fire, Jabari shared out two portions made up of one of the rabbits using banana leaves as plates.


    He handed the first to his sister before placing the water he got from old man Lethabo in front of them and sitting down beside her with his own portion.


    "Why have I got the bigger portion? You''re bigger and need your energy to hunt every day," Inayah said, noticing the difference in portion size.


    "I had already finished most of mine, as I didn''t know when you were going to wake from your little nap," Jabari said between mouthfuls, not even bothering to look up from his food. "You didn''t want me to die of starvation, did you?"


    Inayah merely rolled her eyes. She knew full well he wasn''t being honest, but she didn''t expose his lies as she knew he was just looking out for her.


    "Mmh, that was good, but I''m stuffed," Inayah said a few minutes later.


    "Just finish it; I can''t eat anymore," Jabari remarked after seeing that she''d only eaten half of what was on her leaf.


    "Neither can I, so let''s just throw it away," Inayah said back as she chucked her leftovers in the air.


    Jabari''s movement was like that of a cheetah as he caught the remaining rabbit leg in mid-air and, near enough, devoured it whole.


    "I thought you weren''t hungry?" Inayah chuckled.


    "You know the rules: don''t waste food!" Jabari said begrudgingly as he gently flicked her on the forehead.


    "It''s not wasting food when I knew the dustbin would catch it!" Inayah argued back.


    "Who are you calling a bin? You goof!" Jabari snorted before leading her back inside. "C''mon, let''s get you back inside so you can rest."


    "Fine," Inayah said whilst yawning. "But you have to stay with me until I fall back to sleep."


    "Where else am I gonna go?" Jabari asked back.


    "You ready for the big day tomorrow?" Jabari asked after helping her back into bed and covering her up.


    Inayah nodded as she turned over, hiding her brief look of sadness. "Will you still love me if I fail tomorrow?" Inayah asked softly, as if she feared the answer.


    She didn''t get a response immediately, which led to the deepening of her frown, her face crumpling, and her eyes welling with tears.


    Immediately, her chest filled with warmth as she felt his scrawny arms wrap around her from behind, giving rise to feelings of safety and comfort.


    "There''s nothing you or anyone else can say or do that could stop me from loving you, my baby sister!" Jabari said emotionally.

 Book 1: Chapter 5 – Aptitude of a Mage

    As much as Jabari dreamed of becoming an enforcer, there was another path ¨C one more coveted than any other. A profession that elevated a person beyond nobility, beyond mere warriors. A profession that could turn even a slum-born child into royalty.


    The path of a Mage.


    Mages were not just wielders of magic ¨C they were forces of nature, bending the elements to their will with the use of spells.


    In the slums, though, where people were treated as less than human, the idea of seeing a Mage was the stuff of fairy tales. To most, they were nothing more than myths whispered in the dark.


    Yet, once every five years, the impossible became reality.


    The Umeme Tribe opened its gates, offering the slum children a single opportunity ¨C a Mage¡¯s aptitude test.


    It was the dream of every child trapped in the slums, the single chance to defy fate. A moment where one among them could rise from the dirt and touch the heavens. To pass this test was to break free from the cycle of suffering, to transform from a discarded street rat into a dragon soaring above all others.


    Five years ago, Jabari had stood among those hopefuls. He had just turned ten, like so many others, and had dared to dream. But dreams did not change reality. He had failed.


    And not just him. Over a hundred children had taken the test that year, and not a single one had passed.


    In all his years in the slums, Jabari had never met anyone who had. The only story he had ever heard was a rumour, whispered among the desperate ¨C a child from the slums had once succeeded, more than twenty years ago. They said he had been taken to an academy for Mages, and while he trained in the art of magic, his family had been elevated to nobility.


    Unfortunately, whilst that child had succeeded, Jabari had failed. But this time, it wasn¡¯t about him. It was about Inayah!


    She had finally come of age. At ten years old, his little sister was eligible to take the test. And from the depths of his soul, Jabari prayed she would succeed where he had not.


    If she passed, she would never have to know hunger again. She would have clean water, shelter, and protection. More than that, though, she would have a future.


    ¡°Hellooo...¡± Inayah¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Earth to Jari...?¡±


    Jabari blinked, shaking himself free of his daydream. ¡°Sorry, what were you saying?¡±


    ¡°I saaiiiddd I can walk by myself!¡± she huffed from his back, kicking her legs playfully.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he replied with a smirk, adjusting his grip. ¡°Carrying you just helps me train my strength.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Sure.¡± She rolled her eyes knowingly. They both understood the truth ¨C he just wanted her to conserve her energy.


    As they approached the towering gates of the Umeme Tribe, they saw no other hopefuls in sight. They were the first to arrive.


    Four guards stood at attention, their scimitars gleaming under the morning sun. They were massive compared to the gaunt slum dwellers, the shortest of them towering at over six feet. Their bronze-coloured armour shone in the light, their presence radiating silent authority.


    Jabari immediately noticed the expressions on their faces ¨C disgust, as if the mere sight of him and his sister defiled the entrance they were sworn to protect. He knew better than to react. The laws might forbid outright murder in the slums, but here, the rules were different. A misplaced word, an unintended glance, could be the excuse they needed to make an example of him.


    ¡°Halt.¡± One of the guards barked as they closed the distance.


    ¡°Morning, Sirs,¡± Jabari greeted, keeping his voice even. ¡°We¡¯re here for the aptitude test.¡±


    ¡°Obviously,¡± the guard sneered. ¡°What other reason would vermin like you have to approach these gates?¡±


    His lip curled in disdain as he jabbed a finger toward a spot thirty meters away. ¡°Wait over there with the rest of the filth. We¡¯d rather not have to breathe the stench of the slums any longer than necessary.¡±


    Despite the insult, Jabari remained perfectly composed, betraying none of the simmering resentment that coiled beneath the surface.


    Inayah, however, saw through him. She said nothing, but as she gazed at the back of her brother¡¯s head, her small face was tight with worry. She felt the faintest tremor in his body at the guard¡¯s derisive words, a telltale sign he would never let anyone else see.


    Still, Jabari walked on, his pace unbroken, his posture steady. He carried her without faltering, making his way to the designated corner before kneeling to let her slide off. They sat together in silence, waiting.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Barely a minute passed before Jabari felt Inayah¡¯s head slump against his shoulder, her breathing slowing into the soft rhythm of sleep. Stroking her short curls with one hand, Jabari allowed himself a rare smile. She was his pride, his everything. More than anything, he prayed she would pass the test today.


    Fifteen minutes later, movement at the edge of the path caught his attention. A slow procession of figures trudged toward the gate, a mixture of children and weary-faced guardians emerging from the dust-ridden trails of the slums.


    ¡°All you slum rats, form a queue behind those two over there,¡± barked the same guard who had addressed Jabari earlier. ¡°And keep your mouths shut. I don¡¯t want to hear or smell any of you!¡±


    Jabari looked up, scanning the new arrivals. There were dozens of children gathered for the assessment, many of whom he recognised. Yet, only half had arrived with a parent.


    Even if outright murder was forbidden in the slums, death came easily in other ways. Disease and starvation were just as merciless, snatching parents away and leaving orphans like Jabari and Inayah to fend for themselves.


    He glanced over his shoulder as the next in line joined behind them ¨C an all-too-familiar pair. A child and his mother. The family of the man Jabari had humiliated just the day before.


    Judging by the glowering looks they shot him, they knew exactly what had happened.


    Jabari met their scowls with indifference. He understood why they were angry. The father¡¯s twisted ankle had made it harder for him to hunt, which meant providing for his family had become that much more difficult.


    But Jabari didn¡¯t care.


    If he had simply handed over his catch without resistance, then he and Inayah would have gone hungry instead. And that was unacceptable.


    ¡®You reap what you sow,¡¯ Jabari thought coldly. ¡®He should¡¯ve hunted his own prey instead of trying to steal mine.¡¯


    Ignoring them, his gaze swept the queue, searching until he found a familiar face. Just a few spots behind, a slender young girl with a caramel complexion waved at him enthusiastically, her grin bright despite the grime on her cheeks.


    Standing just in front of her was a dark-skinned woman clad in a faded, threadbare dress. Her long, curly black hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail.


    Jabari allowed his expression to soften for a moment as he returned Luna and her mother¡¯s wave with a small smile.


    But before he could say anything, the guard¡¯s impatient voice rang out once more.


    ¡°Alright, all of you, follow me. I¡¯ll lead you to the testing site. Stay in line, keep up, and don¡¯t even think about wandering off ¨C unless you want to find out what happens to those who disobey.¡±


    With that, the guard turned sharply on his heel and began walking, not bothering to check if they were following.


    Jabari exhaled slowly. ¡®Here we go.¡¯


    Carefully, he lifted Inayah, settling her onto his back once more, ensuring she remained undisturbed in her sleep.


    Then, without a word, he followed.


    As Jabari followed the guard, carefully balancing Inayah on his back, he couldn¡¯t help but be overwhelmed by the stark contrast between the slums and the heart of the Umeme Tribe¡¯s main settlement. It was as if he had stepped into another world ¨C an urban paradise untouched by the filth and decay he had always known.


    Unlike the ramshackle huts of the slums, built from whatever scraps people could scavenge, the buildings here stood tall and proud, constructed of solid stone and brick. They exuded stability, safety ¨C things that had never been a part of his reality. Even though this wasn¡¯t his first time seeing the settlement, he doubted he would ever stop marvelling at its sheer grandeur.


    But what truly left him breathless wasn¡¯t the architecture ¨C it was the cleanliness. The streets were pristine, free from the ever-present stench and filth of the slums. Every breath he took felt purer, as if the years of inhaling toxic air were being slowly undone with each step forward.


    And it wasn¡¯t just him. Even in her sleep, Inayah stirred slightly, shifting against his back. The faint wheezing that always accompanied her breathing softened. It was subtle, but he could hear the difference. The fresh air alone was helping her breathe easier.


    Jabari clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep moving, to push away the bitter realisation that something as simple as clean air ¨C something so easily granted to others ¨C was beyond his sister¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re here,¡± the guard¡¯s bored voice cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the present.


    Jabari lifted his gaze and took in the sight before him.


    In the centre of a wide, open field stood a raised wooden stage. Atop it, an elderly, mocha-skinned woman in a simple white robe fussed over a figure that instantly commanded attention.


    She was breathtaking.


    Her flawless, sun-kissed skin, framed by long, straight black hair that swayed gently in the breeze, exuded an effortless grace. Her perfectly arched brows and subtly applied makeup only enhanced her natural beauty, giving her an ethereal presence. Even in a plain white gown, her elegance was undeniable ¨C otherworldly!


    The air in the field seemed to shift as every pair of eyes, male and female alike, fixated on her in awe.


    ¡°I believe it¡¯s time we begin,¡± the woman spoke softly.


    Her voice was quiet, yet somehow, it reached every ear effortlessly, carrying with it an innate authority that made it impossible to ignore.


    The old woman beside her quickly straightened, bowing her head. ¡°Ahh, yes, of course. Please forgive me, Your Highness.¡±


    Then, as she turned to face the gathered slum children, her entire demeanour changed. The warmth in her voice vanished, replaced by cold condescension. Her gaze swept over them with barely concealed disdain.


    ¡°Listen up!¡± she barked. ¡°As you already know, every five years, the Patriarch of the Umeme Tribe graciously allows you slum rats the chance to take the Mage aptitude test. Today, I have been given the great honour of overseeing this year¡¯s assessment.¡±


    Her lips curled into something resembling a smirk.


    ¡°All you need to do is follow my instructions, and we can get this over with as quickly as possible so you don¡¯t pollute the air of the main settlement any longer than necessary.¡±


    She gestured to the centre of the stage, where a large crystal pulsed faintly with a dim, shifting light.


    ¡°When I call your name, you will step forward and place your hand on the crystal. If, by some miracle, it changes colour, it means you possess the aptitude to become a Mage.¡±


    A cruel glint flickered in her eyes. ¡°And if that happens, you and your family can leave your pathetic lives in the slums behind.¡±


    She could barely contain her amusement as the children¡¯s eyes lit up with eager anticipation.


    Fools.


    None of them had any real chance. This was nothing more than a performance¡ªa cruel trick played once every five years, just enough to dangle false hope before yanking it away again.


    ¡°Abeba, why don¡¯t we start with your daughter?¡± the old woman suggested, her voice sickly sweet as she turned to a woman standing apart from the slum residents. ¡°That way, neither of you have to remain in the presence of this trash any longer than necessary.¡±

 Book 1: Chapter 6 – Did She Pass?

    Following the invigilator¡¯s gaze, Jabari spotted a woman of deep chocolate complexion with sleek, shoulder-length dark brown hair. Her dress ¨C a tight-fitting black garment adorned with intricate gold embroidery ¨C clung to her figure and barely extended past her thighs. She was dripping in expensive jewellery, her face layered with thick makeup, a stark contrast to the ethereal beauty standing on stage.


    Clutching the woman¡¯s hand was a little girl, no older than ten, her resemblance to her mother unmistakable.


    ¡°Thank you, Lady Hadiza; you have no idea how much we appreciate this,¡± Abeba spoke with the same arrogance her expression conveyed. She cast a disdainful glance at the slum residents, her lips curling in open disgust.


    ¡°Eww, Mommy, they smell bad!¡± the little girl squealed, scrunching her nose as they walked past Jabari and the others toward the stage.


    ¡°I know, honey. Just ignore it for now. Mommy will take you to wash their germs off once we¡¯re done.¡±


    For many of the slum children, this was their first face-to-face encounter with the nobles of the main settlement. They had always known their place ¨C had always been reminded of their insignificance ¨C but seeing the sheer contempt in Abeba¡¯s eyes made it painfully real.


    Frustration. Anger. Humiliation. Longing.


    All of them felt it, a deep, gnawing desire to change how they were seen, to rise above the filth they were condemned to. Jabari was no different, except he had long since learned to control his emotions. He remained impassive, unbothered by the venom in their words. This moment wasn¡¯t about him.


    It was about Inayah.


    ¡°Yah-Yah, wake up,¡± he murmured, gently nudging his shoulder against her chin.


    A sleepy murmur came from her as she stirred. ¡°Hmm? Where are we?¡±


    Jabari watched as her eyes fluttered open, widening in awe as she took in the immaculate beauty of the Umeme Tribe¡¯s main settlement.


    ¡°We¡¯re at the aptitude test,¡± he whispered, his voice soft but firm. ¡°Watch carefully. You¡¯re up next.¡±


    Even though she already knew what to expect from Jabari¡¯s past experience, Inayah nodded and focused on the stage. She didn¡¯t want to make any mistakes and embarrass herself or, worse, jeopardise the safety of her brother in any way.


    Abeba led her daughter onto the stage, all eyes following their every move. At the centre stood a small wooden podium, atop which rested a large transparent crystal, its surface gleaming atop a luxurious purple cushion.


    ¡°Okay, sweetie, all you have to do is place your hand on the pretty crystal for a few seconds,¡± Abeba cooed, her voice dripping with encouragement. ¡°Then we can leave, alright?¡±


    ¡°Okay, Mommy,¡± the spoiled child responded, obediently pressing her small hand against the crystal.


    A hush fell over the gathered crowd as the crystal quivered ever so slightly ¨C but no light, no change in colour.


    Hadiza sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Unfortunately, your daughter lacks the aptitude to become a Mage.¡±


    For a moment, there was only silence.


    Then, Abeba¡¯s expression stiffened, and without another word, she grabbed her daughter¡¯s hand and hurried off the stage, her face a mask of embarrassment. Failing in front of the nobles was one thing, but failing in front of slum rats?


    Unthinkable.


    Hadiza turned back to the crowd, her voice cool and impassive.


    ¡°Next.¡±


    Hearing her call, Jabari instinctively stepped forward with Inayah on his back, but before he could reach the stage, the invigilator¡¯s sharp, apathetic voice cut through the air once more.


    "One at a time."


    Jabari hesitated, unwilling to let his sister climb the stairs on her own.


    "It¡¯s okay, Jari. I¡¯ll be fine," Inayah whispered against his ear, her small hands squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. She straightened her legs and slowly slid off his back, flashing him a soft, reassuring smile before turning to face the towering stage.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Jabari¡¯s chest tightened as he watched her wrap her frail fingers around the wooden railing, each step a painstaking effort. The harsh sun illuminated the sharp ridges of her malnourished arms as she struggled to haul herself up.


    "We don¡¯t have all day! Hurry the hell up or get lost and stop wasting my time, rat!" Hadiza¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and merciless.


    The entire crowd fell silent, watching as Inayah¡¯s small frame trembled under the weight of so many eyes. Humiliation burned in her cheeks, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself forward. She couldn¡¯t let her brother down ¨C not after everything he had sacrificed for her.


    But no matter how much she willed herself onward, her body betrayed her. Her foot slipped. A gasp rang through the crowd as she tumbled backward-


    Only to be caught by two strong, familiar arms.


    She didn¡¯t need to look up to know who it was.


    "You shouldn¡¯t ha-"


    "Quiet," Jabari commanded, his voice low and firm as he lifted her into his arms with ease.


    "Did you not hear me, boy?" Hadiza¡¯s voice turned venomous. "One at a time means one at a time!"


    Jabari met her glare with unwavering calm. "My sister is ill, plea-"


    "I don¡¯t give a damn! Even if she were dying and the only cure in the world was on this stage, she¡¯d still follow my rules!" Hadiza spat, her lips curling with disgust. "Either obey or crawl back to whatever gutter you came from!"


    The guard at Jabari¡¯s side shifted, his hand hovering over his scimitar, waiting for the signal to strike.


    Jabari knew what the smart choice was. He could step back, let Inayah struggle alone, or walk away entirely.


    But neither of those options was acceptable.


    Each day, his sister¡¯s condition worsened. He didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d survive another year, let alone another five. If they left now, there might not be a next time.


    He took a deep breath, his mind whirring, then suddenly stilled.


    "That woman from before escorted her daughter up. I only want to do the same for my sister."


    His words were calm, precise. He didn¡¯t flinch under Hadiza¡¯s glare, nor did he acknowledge the guard¡¯s fingers twitching over his weapon.


    Hadiza blinked, caught off guard by the audacity in his voice ¨C the quiet confidence of someone who refused to be cowed.


    She sneered. "The rules for Umeme Tribe citizens don¡¯t apply to rats like you."


    Jabari nodded slowly. "I see. But I distinctly remember the invigilator from the test five years ago saying, and I quote: ¡®Don¡¯t be nervous. The Chief¡¯s decree states that during the assessment, those from the slums are afforded the same rights as the citizens of the tribe.¡¯"


    Hadiza¡¯s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked unsure of herself, like she had swallowed something foul.


    Jabari pressed on. "Unless, of course, you¡¯re saying you don¡¯t have to follow the laws set by the Chief?"


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.


    Jabari adjusted his grip on Inayah, his steps unhurried as he carried her up the stairs, completely ignoring the fuming invigilator. His expression remained neutral, his posture steady.


    He had won.


    Hadiza had been backed into a corner. Everyone knew that, despite the decree, invigilators were free to humiliate slum children without consequence. But for her to openly defy said law after the Chief¡¯s name was brought up¡­


    If word ever got back to the Chief, it would almost certainly be seen as treason.


    No matter how much she hated it, there were some lines even she couldn¡¯t cross.


    The guard who had led them to the stage glowered at Jabari''s back, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed to strain against his very bones. The fury in his gaze was barely contained, as if every fibre of his being was screaming to cut the boy down where he stood.


    ¡®This filthy rat! How dare he?!¡¯


    On the other hand, the slum children, who had moments ago felt the sting of injustice, now stared at Jabari with wide-eyed admiration, while the adults, who had long been hardened by reality, watched with grim expressions. They knew that while Jabari had won this battle, he had also painted a target on his back. There was no escaping the consequences of defying those in power.


    ''What an interesting child,¡¯ thought the mysterious beauty standing silently between her two hooded guardians, her expression unreadable as she studied Jabari¡¯s defiant stance.


    Jabari, however, remained oblivious to the gazes around him. His only concern was Inayah. He climbed onto the stage, his heart pounding as he silently willed her to pass the test. If she failed¡­ If she failed, then there was no choice ¨C he would take her and flee into the wilderness, away from the suffocating grip of this place.


    "Place your hand on the crystal," Jabari said softly, ignoring the seething look of Hadiza, who still burned with humiliation.


    "Jari, we-"


    "Have I ever let you down before?" he asked, his voice steady, his smile filled with gentle warmth.


    "Never," Inayah whispered, and a sliver of his resolve bled into her own. She slowly extended her hand, hesitating only for a breath before pressing it against the cool, smooth surface of the crystal.


    The reaction was immediate. The crystal trembled violently, its core igniting in a dazzling glow.


    "She did it! She really did it!" Jabari¡¯s voice rang out, raw with emotion, his restraint crumbling under the weight of his joy.


    Excitement rippled through the crowd. The slum children were electric with hope, their faces alight with wonder, while the adults mirrored a complex blend of amazement and envy. For them, this was both a miracle and a cruel reminder of what they themselves had been denied.


    Hadiza, however, was frozen in horror. Her fingers trembled at her sides, and a sheen of sweat broke across her back as she grasped the implications. This girl ¨C this sickly, frail child ¨C would one day possess a status far beyond her own. The thought sent a chill down her spine.


    But as swiftly as it had come, the light within the crystal flickered and died. The trembling ceased. The glow vanished into nothing.


    Silence crashed over the arena.


    Jabari''s exhilaration shattered. His body went rigid, his breath caught somewhere between hope and dread.


    "What happened? Did she pass?!" he demanded, turning to the invigilator, all pretence of civility gone. He didn¡¯t care that he had humiliated her moments ago ¨C all that mattered was the answer.


    Hadiza took a moment to compose herself, deepening her breath as the panic drained from her expression. Slowly, her lips curled into a sneer, the power shifting back into her grasp.


    "There was no change in colour," she said, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. "She failed!"

 Book 1: Chapter 7 – Hope

    "That¡­ That''s impossible!" Jabari''s voice trembled, raw with disbelief. His heart pounded in his chest as he refused to accept what he had just heard.


    ¡°Once more! Just try it one more time!¡± His hands shook as he grabbed Inayah¡¯s wrist and pressed her palm firmly against the crystal.


    Nothing.


    The crystal remained lifeless, as cold and unyielding as the reality he refused to face.


    A slow, mocking chuckle filled the air.


    "Stop wasting time and get the hell off my stage, you filthy little rats!" The old woman sneered, her wrinkled face twisting with cruel delight.


    The crowd stirred. Murmurs rippled through the spectators, each whisper reinforcing what everyone but Jabari was struggling to accept ¨C Inayah had failed.


    "No..." Jabari whispered, shaking his head as he turned desperately to the invigilator. "It''s the crystal! It¡­


    It must be broken! Is there another one?!"


    "The crystal''s working perfectly," Hadiza shot back, her smirk widening. "You just refuse to accept the truth."


    "Then how do you explain the glow? The shaking?!" Jabari snapped, his voice rising. "That little girl before barely caused a flicker! How do you explain that?!"


    Hadiza opened her mouth to deliver another smug retort, but before she could, a new voice rang through the air.


    Calm. Commanding. Mesmerising.


    "Aten, you try it."


    A hush fell over the crowd.


    The voice belonged to a woman who had remained silent until now ¨C a woman whose presence alone commanded attention. She sat gracefully between her guards, her emerald-green eyes locked onto the scene before her.


    "Yes, Your Highness."


    The hooded man at her side stepped forward. His movements were deliberate, effortless, the quiet authority of someone who had nothing to prove.


    As all eyes fixated on him, Aten approached the crystal, his expression unreadable.


    With one smooth motion, he placed his large, sun-kissed hand atop the testing device.


    The reaction was immediate.


    A blinding azure light erupted from the crystal, illuminating the entire stage. Gasps of awe spread like wildfire through the crowd. Some recoiled. Others stood frozen, overwhelmed by what they were witnessing.


    A Mage.


    A real Mage.


    Most had only heard stories ¨C legends of those blessed by the heavens with supernatural power. Many had dismissed such tales as myths.


    But now, before their very eyes, stood a living, breathing Mage.


    A few among the crowd felt their knees grow weak, a primal urge rising within them to bow ¨C to prostrate themselves before such an existence.


    Then, her voice rang out once more.


    "I''m sorry, child," the princess said, her tone carrying neither mockery nor pity, only calm certainty. "But it appears your sister does not have the aptitude required to become a Mage."


    Jabari''s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he had held on to the hope that the crystal had been faulty. That there had been a mistake. That fate had not been so cruel.


    But now?


    Now, he had no choice but to accept it.


    His dream ¨C their dream ¨C had been placed right before his eyes... only to be ripped away at the very last second.


    His throat felt dry. His voice was barely above a whisper.


    "I see. Thank you."


    Hadiza, sensing an opportunity to twist the dagger deeper, opened her mouth to deliver one final insult.


    "Now get off my stage and stop polluting our-"


    The words died in her throat.


    A sharp, gleaming blade was now pressed against her neck.


    Cold. Unyielding.


    The princess¡¯s second guard ¨C who had moved so quickly that no one had seen him draw his weapon ¨C stood mere inches from the invigilator, his voice smooth and impassive.


    "You are never to interrupt when Her Highness is speaking."


    The silence that followed was deafening.


    The invigilator trembled, her arrogance crumbling under the weight of the blade resting against her skin. She dared not even breathe.


    Then, as if none of the tension unfolding around her concerned her in the slightest, the princess turned to Jabari, her emerald eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity.


    "If you wish," she said, her voice soft but unwavering, "you may come with me to my residence. I might be able to help with your sister¡¯s condition."


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Jealousy, awe, and disbelief mingled in the air.


    Every man present envied Jabari at that moment. Every woman was enraptured by the princess¡¯s beauty and grace. Yet the boy at the centre of it all stood frozen, speechless.


    Jabari stared into her striking green eyes, searching for deception, for hidden motives. His instincts screamed that nothing in this world came for free ¨C especially not kindness from those who lived in the noble districts.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    A helpless sigh escaped his lips.


    "I''m sorry," he said at last. "But I can''t afford your help."


    He wanted to say yes. He needed to say yes.


    But nobles didn''t help slum rats like them, not for free!


    And as brazen as he could be with others, he didn''t dare lie to her ¨C not when one of her guards was a true Mage and the other was clearly a seasoned killer.


    The princess smiled. A smile so radiant, so effortlessly enchanting, that even those simply watching felt their hearts stir.


    "There¡¯s no need to worry," she said. "I do not require payment."


    Jabari was speechless. This was not how the nobles of the main settlement acted.


    He knew firsthand how they saw people like him ¨C how they loathed even breathing the same air as slum-dwellers.


    He should have been suspicious. He should have walked away.


    But the reality was, he had no options left.


    He had already thrown caution to the wind standing up to Hadiza. He had nowhere else to turn.


    This may well be the only chance he had to save Inayah.


    He swallowed his doubts.


    "Okay." He exhaled. "Thank you, then."


    The princess inclined her head slightly before turning her attention back to the invigilator.


    "Lady Hadiza," she said, her tone regal and unbothered, "we¡¯ll be taking our leave."


    Hadiza was still too shaken by the blade at her throat to respond.


    Not that it mattered. The princess had already stood, her guards falling into step behind her.


    She moved with the effortless grace of someone who expected to be obeyed.


    Jabari and Inayah remained frozen in place, still reeling from everything that had just transpired.


    Then, the princess stopped.


    Glancing over her shoulder, she tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes.


    "Well?" she asked. "Are you coming?"


    Under the envious gazes of the crowd, Jabari adjusted his grip on Inayah and carried her on his back, following behind the princess and her two guards.


    Not a single word was exchanged between them during the journey.


    Jabari and Inayah trailed a few steps behind, their minds racing, still struggling to process everything that had transpired.


    It all felt unreal.


    Neither of them had the presence of mind to admire the breathtaking cityscape unfolding around them. The slums were all they had ever known ¨C cramped alleyways, crumbling buildings, and the constant stench of desperation lingering in the air. But here, in the heart of the noble district, the roads were smooth and polished, the buildings grand and pristine, and the very air felt cleaner.


    Yet none of that mattered.


    Jabari¡¯s focus remained locked on the three strangers leading the way, his body tense, his mind on high alert.


    He didn''t trust them.


    How could he?


    Every instinct screamed at him to be ready ¨C to run the moment anything felt off. But the further they walked, the more he realised that, despite his paranoia, nothing was happening. No traps. No ambushes. Just quiet, steady steps toward an unknown fate.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the mysterious woman came to a stop.


    "Here we are," she said, pushing open the door to a two-story building.


    Jabari hesitated at the threshold.


    Peering inside, he saw a long, winding corridor with highly polished wooden floors and walls adorned with exquisite paintings. The air smelled of fresh herbs and burning incense ¨C foreign and unfamiliar.


    But instead of stepping in, Jabari took a slow step back, widening the space between them, ensuring that all three strangers remained firmly within his line of sight.


    His voice was low, cautious. "Why are you helping us? What do you want?"


    There was nothing he wouldn¡¯t do to save his sister. Nothing!


    But stepping into an enclosed space, outnumbered and outmatched, carrying his defenceless sister, set every nerve in his body on edge.


    He wouldn''t move until they gave him a reason.


    "IMPUDENT BR¡ª"


    The scimitar-wielding guard moved to teach the teen who dared to question the motives of his princess a lesson.


    But the woman raised her hand, a silent command that stopped him mid-motion.


    Jabari had already leapt back instinctively, putting an extra few meters of space between them, his muscles coiled, ready to flee.


    The woman met his wary gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she spoke.


    "My name is Heba Khaldun, Princess of the Khaldun Tribe."


    The name meant nothing to Jabari. He remained silent, his face carefully neutral.


    Heba studied him for a moment before explaining, her voice patient.


    "There are hundreds, if not thousands, of tribes spread across Ulo. Most of them, like the Umeme Tribe you belong to, are minor tribes. But there are six that stand above the rest ¨C the Major Tribes of Ulo.


    My Khaldun Tribe is one of them!"


    Jabari stiffened slightly.


    He had no formal education. Most of what he knew about the world came from scraps of overheard conversations in the slums. He knew that their nation was called Ulo and that they lived in the slums of the Umeme Tribe.


    But the Six Major Tribes? He had only ever heard whispers. Rumours. Still, it was nothing that had ever mattered to his survival.


    Heba¡¯s eyes flickered with mild amusement as she took in his expression.


    "Was there something else you didn¡¯t understand?" she asked.


    Jabari shook his head, his wariness deepening. "I understand all that. The thing I don¡¯t understand, though, is why someone with your status is willing to help people like us."


    Nobles did not help slum rats.


    They stepped on them. They crushed them.


    Heba, however, remained perfectly composed.


    "I left my tribe to travel through Ulo as a nomadic doctor of sorts," she explained, her tone even. "I provide medical support to those who don¡¯t have access to it. It also allows me to experience more of Ulo outside my small corner of it."


    She met his gaze. "So, while I can¡¯t promise anything, I can at least try to help your sister with her illness."


    Jabari didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he studied her. Deeply.


    Her radiant green eyes held no deception. No malice. No hidden agenda that he could discern.


    But could he really trust her?


    His grip tightened on Inayah¡¯s small frame, feeling the slight tremble in her body.


    He exhaled slowly. "What do you think, Yah-Yah?"


    It was her life. She deserved a say in this.


    "I trust you," Inayah whispered hesitantly.


    Jabari¡¯s heart clenched.


    Those three words ¨C simple and innocent ¨C felt heavier than anything he had ever carried.


    Heba and her guards remained perfectly still, their patience unwavering. They weren¡¯t forcing him. They weren¡¯t rushing him. The decision was his.


    Jabari took one last deep breath, forcing down the uncertainty clawing at his chest. Then, he lifted his head and met Heba¡¯s gaze. "Please help my sister."


    "I¡¯ll try," the princess replied, her voice calm but laced with quiet resolve.


    Then, without another word, she stepped inside, her guards following closely behind.


    Jabari took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to push past the unease curling in his gut. His instincts still screamed at him to be cautious, but this was the only chance Inayah had.


    Adjusting his grip on his sister, he followed.


    Under different circumstances, both he and Inayah would have been in awe of the house¡¯s lavish interior ¨C the paintings that adorned the walls, the intricate carvings on the furniture, the sheer wealth radiating from every detail.


    But right now?


    None of it mattered. Their thoughts were consumed by something far greater.


    For so long, Inayah¡¯s sickness had felt inevitable ¨C an unshakable weight pressing down on them, impossible to escape. But now¡­


    Now, there was a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. Distant. Faint. But light, nonetheless.


    Jabari carried Inayah down the corridor, following Heba until they reached a room at the very end.


    Inside, a large, padded table stood at the centre. It was man-sized, covered in pristine white fabric, with a face-sized hole at the top ¨C clearly meant for medical use.


    Heba gestured toward it. "Hop on."


    Then, with a small chuckle, she added, "Ah, where are my manners? I just realised, I never got your names."


    Jabari hesitated for only a second before answering. "I¡¯m Jabari, and this is my little sister, Inayah."


    He crouched beside the table, allowing Inayah to slide off his back.


    Heba smiled gently. "Well, Inayah, if you want to lie back and relax, I¡¯m just going to do a quick examination. Nothing to worry about."


    Turning her head slightly, Inayah looked at Jabari, searching his face for reassurance.


    In response, he gave her a firm nod.


    Heba moved with quiet efficiency. She began by taking Inayah¡¯s pulse, her fingers cool but gentle against her skin. Then, she pressed along various points on her body ¨C her arms, her abdomen, her back ¨C checking for anything abnormal.


    Jabari watched her every movement with hawk-like intensity, his stomach coiling tighter with each second that passed.


    And then-


    A slight crease formed between Heba¡¯s brows. A frown. Small. Almost imperceptible. Still, Jabari caught it.


    His heart pounded against his ribs. "What is it?" His voice was sharp ¨C urgent even. "Do you know what¡¯s wrong with her? Can you cure her?"


    His questions spilled out in rapid succession, his anxiety palpable.

 Book 1: Chapter 8 – Oluwa Umeme

    "Can you cure her?" Jabari''s voice was taut with urgency, his hands curled into tense fists at his sides.


    Heba''s expression was unreadable, but there was a weight in her gaze that made his stomach twist. "I need you all to step outside," she said, her voice steady but firm.


    "Absolutely not!" Jabari shot back without hesitation. "I won''t leave my sister!"


    Heba met his fiery resistance with quiet patience. "I need to conduct one final test," she explained, her tone gentle but unwavering. "It will require her to undress."


    Jabari''s jaw tightened as he warred with himself. The thought of leaving Inayah alone with a stranger ¨C even for a moment ¨C was unbearable. But before he could refuse again, he felt the faintest touch against his hand. His sister¡¯s frail fingers slipped into his own, cool and trembling.


    "It''s okay," Inayah whispered, her dark eyes steady despite the exhaustion lining them. "I''ll be fine."


    Jabari swallowed hard, torn between the instinct to protect and the knowledge that Heba might be their only hope. He looked down at Inayah, searching her face, then exhaled sharply before turning back to the princess.


    "I promise," Heba said, meeting his gaze with sincerity, "no harm will come to her."


    Silence stretched between them as Jabari¡¯s mind raced, weighing trust against necessity. His gut twisted with distrust, but he couldn¡¯t ignore the truth ¨C Heba was their best, and perhaps only, chance.


    "Fine," he ground out at last. "But I''ll be right outside." The words felt like surrender as he turned on his heel and strode out, the guards flanking him as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway.


    The wait was excruciating. It couldn¡¯t have been more than two minutes, but to Jabari, it felt like an eternity stretched thin. Every second that ticked by gnawed at his patience, his ears straining for any sound from the room.


    The moment the door creaked open, he was back inside in an instant. His eyes swept over Inayah, her small frame now wrapped in a towel, her expression weary but intact.


    "I''m fine," she assured him softly, as if sensing the storm inside him.


    Jabari let out a slow breath, tension bleeding from his shoulders. His gaze flicked to Heba, who regarded him with quiet amusement.


    "I told you I wouldn¡¯t harm her," she said with a soft chuckle.


    Jabari ignored her mirth, cutting straight to the point. "Do you know what''s wrong with her?" His voice held a flicker of hope, a desperate thread clinging to the possibility of answers.


    At the question, Heba''s smile faded. A shadow crossed her face. "I do, but-"


    "You do?!" Jabari surged forward, grasping onto the revelation like a drowning man to a rope. "That¡¯s great! Can you cure her? How long will it take?!" He fired questions in rapid succession, unable to contain the swell of emotions. But the longer he spoke, the more he noticed the way Heba hesitated. The way her expression darkened.


    His breath hitched. "What...


    What is it?"


    Heba didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she turned to her guards. "Aten. Lateef. Wait outside."


    Lateef hesitated. "But Your Highness-"


    "Now," Heba commanded, her voice brooking no argument.


    With a reluctant glance at Jabari, the sword-wielding guard gave a short nod and followed Aten out, shutting the door behind them.


    Heba turned her full attention back to Jabari and Inayah. "How much do you know about mages?"


    The question caught Jabari off guard. "Mages?" His brow furrowed. "Not much. Just that they¡¯re powerful and respected wherever they go."


    Heba inclined her head slightly. "To become a mage, one must be born with something called a vassal ¨C a container of sorts, for magical power. It¡¯s a rare gift, and it can be detected through an aptitude test. If a person has a vassal, the crystal changes colour. Like what you saw with Aten."


    Jabari nodded, absorbing the explanation. "Alright...


    But what does any of that have to do with Inayah?"


    Heba hesitated, as if choosing her next words carefully. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with an edge of grim severity.


    "There exists a technique ¨C an unnatural, wicked practice ¨C that allows a vassal to be stolen. Ripped from its rightful owner and transferred to another." Her eyes darkened. "The process is excruciating, and worse still, it¡¯s ultimately fatal."


    Jabari felt the ground shift beneath him. His vision tunnelled, his breath coming sharp and ragged. The room was suddenly suffocating.


    His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked in the silence. His mind reeled, churning with denial, fury, and fear all at once.


    "Judging by your reaction..." Heba studied him carefully. "You already suspected the truth, didn¡¯t you?"


    For a second, Jabari¡¯s mind went blank. He couldn¡¯t believe her words. How could he possibly have suspected anything?


    His furious gaze fell on the princess as he prepared to respond, but what he saw shocked him to no end.


    Heba wasn¡¯t looking at him. She was looking at Inayah!


    Jabari followed her gaze, and his heart stopped.


    His little sister ¨C his sweet, fragile Inayah ¨C sat there with her head bowed, her fingers twisting the fabric of her towel. Silent. Her lower lip trembled, and tears clung to the edges of her lashes.


    "Yah-Yah...?" His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.


    Inayah squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She had known. She had known all along.


    Jabari¡¯s mind was a storm, his thoughts crashing into one another like waves in a violent sea. This couldn¡¯t be real. Not only had someone used this vile, unnatural technique on his little sister, but she had known all along ¨C and never told him.


    Why?!


    The pain of it all sat heavy on his chest, suffocating him, twisting into something dark and unrecognisable. He didn¡¯t know what to think. He didn¡¯t even know how to feel.


    "I''m sorry," Inayah whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her fragile frame trembling. "I''m so sorry¡­


    So sorry!"


    Her apologies only deepened the chasm inside him. Jabari swallowed against the rage and confusion clawing at his throat. "What happened?" His voice was rough, unsteady. "What haven¡¯t you told me?"


    But Inayah only curled in on herself, fingers clutching the towel around her as though it was the only thing keeping her together. She wouldn¡¯t even look at him.


    A spark of frustration flared. "Inayah!" he barked, his voice sharp and raw.


    She flinched but finally spoke, her voice barely audible.


    "It...


    It was Oluwa."


    The world around Jabari seemed to tilt.


    "Oluwa?" The name felt foreign in his mouth, like it no longer belonged to the boy he once knew.


    "As in Oluwa Umeme?" Heba asked, her own surprise mirroring Jabari¡¯s.


    Inayah nodded hesitantly, her tear-filled eyes never leaving the wooden floor beneath her.


    Jabari''s breath turned shallow. His mind latched onto her words, processing them, dissecting them, refusing to accept them.


    Wait¡­


    "Oluwa was an Umeme?" His voice was eerily devoid of emotion now, an empty, hollow thing. "Not only did he belong to the ruling family of the tribe... but he was the one who stole your vassal?" His fingers curled into fists. "And you¡¯ve known this whole time? And never told me?"


    Inayah finally looked up, only to find Jabari¡¯s eyes ¨C cold, unreadable, distant.


    She had never seen him like this before. And it terrified her.


    She could do nothing but nod.


    A terrible silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, suddenly, everything clicked.


    Jabari thought back to all the times he had brushed off his instincts, ignored the strange behaviour of his little sister.


    Unlike the other children in the slums, Inayah had never been excited at the thought of becoming a mage. She had never entertained the possibility, never once expressed hope.


    Because she already knew it was impossible. Because of him. Because of Oluwa.


    Jabari felt something inside him fracture.


    Oluwa¡­


    The boy he had once called a friend.


    The memories came rushing back, sharp as a blade.


    He remembered the day they first met ¨C six years ago, when Jabari had only just begun hunting to feed himself and Inayah. He had been scouring the outskirts of the settlement when he stumbled upon a gruesome scene.


    A boy, no older than him, lay on the ground, his clothes stained crimson, his chest rising and falling in frantic, shallow breaths. Around him, the bodies of several slain guards sprawled across the dirt, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. Among the corpses were the mangled remains of a wolf pack, their blood pooling beneath them.


    Only one remained. A lone, battered wolf, its fur matted with gore, its eyes wild with hunger. It crept forward, step by step, towards the injured boy.


    Jabari had stood frozen, watching. Hesitating.


    Back then, he was no stranger to death. The slums had hardened him, stripped him of softness. If he had turned his back that day, the boy would have died, and he would¡¯ve gone on with his life as usual. And yet¡­


    Something inside him had rebelled against the thought.


    The moment the wolf lunged, Jabari had moved. With nothing but a rusted kitchen knife, he drove the blade into the creature¡¯s throat until he felt the hot gush of blood spill over his hands.


    From that moment on, the two had become friends.


    Jabari had never asked where Oluwa came from ¨C it was obvious. The fine stitching of his clothes, the way his words carried the weight of someone accustomed to being obeyed, the ever-present guards at his side. He was nobility. A child of the main settlement.


    Nor did he ask this new friend of his to help him become a member of the main settlement. And yet, Oluwa still used his influence to help them.


    It was Oluwa who had secured them a small hut at the far edge of the slums, giving Jabari and Inayah a space of their own. It was Oluwa who had gifted him his first real weapons ¨C the razor-sharp throwing knives Jabari still carried to this day.


    Jabari had trusted him.


    And all this time¡­


    All this time, he never knew.


    Never once had he suspected that his so-called friend was anything more than a privileged noble with an unusual sense of kindness. Never once had he imagined that the boy he once risked his life for would be the one to steal something so vital from his little sister.


    His pulse roared in his ears, and his vision blurred at the edges, consumed by a deep, simmering rage.


    "How did he do it?" Jabari¡¯s voice was low now, cold, cutting. As if he couldn¡¯t see the way Inayah flinched. As if he didn¡¯t care.


    "It¡­


    ¡°It was five years ago, the week before your mage assessment,¡± Inayah began, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. ¡°You were out hunting when Oluwa came to our hut... but he wasn¡¯t accompanied by just his guards. This time, there was also a woman with him ¨C dressed in all black, she looked... terrifying.¡±


    Jabari and Heba listened in silence, their expressions unreadable. Inayah swallowed before continuing.


    ¡°When I asked what they wanted, neither of them answered. Instead, Oluwa pinned me to the ground while the woman began chanting in a strange language. She dipped two fingers into a black, inky liquid, then traced something onto my stomach. As soon as she finished, the markings began to glow.¡±


    Her tone remained composed, almost detached, but Heba, who understood exactly what kind of technique had been used, could only imagine the suffering she had endured. The sheer fact that Inayah could recount the event so plainly, without mentioning the pain and terror she must have felt, spoke volumes about her resilience.


    The more she spoke, the more Heba¡¯s heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to pull the girl into an embrace, to offer her comfort, but she respected Inayah¡¯s strength and remained silent, letting her continue.


    ¡°Then,¡± Inayah went on, her fingers unconsciously brushing against her lower stomach, ¡°the woman took a blade and cut me, just beneath the markings.


    She pushed her fingers inside the wound. And as Oluwa lay beside me, she did the exact same thing to him. But this time, she used my blood to draw the markings on his skin.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t hurt,¡± she lied, her voice soft but firm. She knew Jabari too well ¨C knew how much he was already blaming himself for something he hadn¡¯t even known about until now. ¡°I just... felt like something was missing.¡±


    Jabari¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid, but he didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°After it was done, Oluwa told me the truth ¨C he was the only son of the tribe¡¯s ruling family and that his mother wanted to kill us both to make sure no one ever discovered what had happened. But because you once saved his life, he swore he¡¯d let us live.¡±


    She hesitated before adding, ¡°As long as I never told a soul, we would be safe. But if I did ¨C if I told you, or anyone else ¨C he said we would suffer a fate worse than death.¡±


    A shadow passed over Heba¡¯s face, but she held her tongue.


    ¡°He made me swear an oath,¡± Inayah admitted. ¡°He made me dip my fingers in my own blood, raise my hand, and swear on my life that I would never speak of it.¡±


    Jabari¡¯s expression remained unreadable, but Inayah could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her.


    At the same time, an odd expression flashed across Heba¡¯s face. Still, she didn¡¯t interject, silently allowing Inayah to continue her story.


    ¡°And the day I came home to find Oluwa tending to you,¡± he said at last, his voice unnervingly calm. ¡°When you told me you fell on a knife and collapsed from a sudden spell of weakness...¡±


    His words were careful, deliberate. Inayah felt the guilt coil tighter in her chest. Still, she nodded.


    ¡°Oluwa said I would start having these weak spells from then on,¡± she admitted. ¡°And that I should tell you he found me after I fell.¡±


    Jabari exhaled slowly. ¡°I see.¡±


    A single tear slipped down his cheek. Then another.


    Memories of his closest friend flooded his mind. The day they met. The time Oluwa used his status to secure him and Inayah a place of their own. The gift of throwing knives to help him hunt. The day Inayah ¡°stabbed¡± herself.


    The last time they saw each other¡­


    He had walked Oluwa outside after she had fallen asleep. Even then, something had felt... wrong. Oluwa wasn¡¯t himself. He had assumed it was sadness that his friend was reluctant to say goodbye before leaving to continue his studies.


    But now, he understood the truth.


    A shudder ran through Jabari¡¯s body. His vision blurred with rage as his irises turned a burning, blood-red. His entire form trembled with an all-consuming fury, a storm that no longer had any hope of being contained.


    Then, with his head thrown back, he released a roar so raw, so primal, so filled with anguish and betrayal, it tore through the night like a wounded beast¡¯s final cry.


    ¡°OLLUUWWAAAAAA!¡±

 Book 1: Chapter 9 – Beast-Warrior

    Without another word, Jabari bolted from the treatment room, his feet pounding against the floor as he tore down the corridor, his fury driving him toward the exit.


    Hearing his enraged roar and seeing him flee, Heba''s guard, Lateef, sprang into action. With practiced ease, he tackled Jabari to the ground, pinning him effortlessly. Meanwhile, his partner, Aten, rushed into the treatment room.


    "Your Highness, are you hurt?" Aten asked, his voice laced with concern.


    "I''m fine," the Princess assured him, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles on the back of the visibly shaken Inayah. "Have Lateef bring Jabari back ¨C but don¡¯t hurt him."


    Lateef dragged Jabari into the room, the young man struggling fiercely at first. But the moment his eyes met Inayah¡¯s frightened gaze, he forced himself to still, though the fire in his eyes refused to fade.


    "You weren¡¯t planning to go after Oluwa Umeme ¨C the young master of the Umeme Tribe ¨C were you?" Heba¡¯s voice was soft, but the question hung heavy in the air. Not that she needed his answer. His outburst and the rigid set of his jaw spoke louder than words.


    "First of all," she continued evenly, ¡°Oluwa¡¯s not inside the confines of the Tribe at the moment.¡±


    "Second, any guard serving the Umeme family could kill you with little more than a flick of their wrist.


    "Third ¨C and perhaps most importantly ¨C thanks to his so-called talent, Oluwa was accepted into the Kamara Tribe, another of the Six Major Tribes of Ulo. His status now surpasses even my own."


    "I don¡¯t care about any of that!" Jabari snapped. "If I sit back and do nothing, Inayah¡¯s condition will only get worse. But if I act ¨C no matter how small the chance ¨C at least there''s still a chance!"


    Heba exhaled a slow, measured sigh as she studied him. She could see the unshakable determination in his eyes. "Let me be absolutely clear," she said. "If you so much as breathe in Oluwa¡¯s direction, you¡¯ll be dead before you can blink."


    "What do you expect me to do then?" Jabari growled. "Sit here and watch while my little sister dies?"


    Heba rose from her seat and began pacing the room, her movements unhurried but purposeful. "As things stand, Inayah has about eighteen months left," she said bluntly.


    Jabari¡¯s chest tightened, his breathing growing uneven.


    "But with my help, I could extend that to two ¨C perhaps even three years," she added.


    Jabari clenched his fists. "What good are a few extra months if she¡¯s still going to die young? I want her to live ¨C to have a full and happy life!"


    He didn¡¯t understand why Heba was offering her help, and truthfully, he didn¡¯t care. The only thing that mattered was saving the only family he had left.


    "Calm down and listen," Heba instructed, her voice steady. She waited as Jabari took a breath, his muscles coiled with tension, before she continued. "I¡¯ll ensure your sister receives the best treatment available for as long as possible. That gives you time ¨C time to find a real solution."


    Jabari¡¯s eyes narrowed. "You just said Oluwa is too powerful for me to even think about challenging. So what¡¯s your point?"


    "He is ¨C right now," Heba acknowledged. "But if you play your cards right... who knows what the future holds?"


    That caught his full attention.


    "The way I see it, you have two options," she said, holding up a single finger. "First, you can search for a method to stabilise Inayah¡¯s condition without having to confront Oluwa.


    I don¡¯t know of a method personally, but it¡¯s not impossible that one exists ¨C at least not in theory ¨C but the chances of success?" She shook her head. "They¡¯re almost non-existent."


    Jabari swallowed hard. "And the second option?"


    Heba¡¯s lips curved slightly. "Simple. Get strong enough to defeat Oluwa, reclaim Inayah¡¯s Vassal, and most importantly ¨C find a backer powerful enough to withstand the Kamara Tribe¡¯s inevitable retaliation."


    "Jari, please don''t worry about me," Inayah said softly, her voice trembling yet filled with warmth. "I''ve been happy just living by your side. That''s enough for me. I just want you to be-"


    "I wasn''t asking you!" Jabari snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence.


    Inayah flinched, her gaze dropping to the floor. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to meet his eyes, not when she knew how much she had hurt him by keeping such a monumental secret for so long. The guilt weighed heavily on her, but even so, she had no regrets.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    For as long as she could remember, it had always been Jabari protecting her, shielding her from the world¡¯s cruelty. If accepting his anger meant ensuring that he kept living ¨C even if it was without her ¨C then she would bear it without complaint.


    Jabari exhaled sharply before turning his full attention to the princess standing before him. His dark eyes locked onto her brilliant emerald ones. "People don¡¯t help others for nothing," he said coldly. "So tell me, what do you want?"


    He wasn¡¯t a fool. As much as he appreciated Heba exposing the truth, he had no intention of blindly trusting her. He had already learned, in the harshest way possible, the price of misplaced trust ¨C and this time, Inayah¡¯s life was on the line.


    Heba met his gaze without flinching. "I can¡¯t tell you everything right now," she admitted. "It¡¯s personal ¨C it concerns my family. But what I can tell you is that helping you costs me nothing. And if you somehow manage to succeed, I gain the favour of someone with limitless potential."


    Jabari¡¯s mind churned at her words.


    Oluwa had stolen Inayah¡¯s Vassal and then gained entry into one of the Six Major Tribes solely based on ¡®his¡¯ talent ¨C talent that had earned him a status rivalling that of a royal. And yet, that talent wasn¡¯t even his to begin with.


    If Inayah were to reclaim what was rightfully hers¡­


    Calling her potential limitless wasn¡¯t an exaggeration.


    He studied Heba carefully, trying to discern any deception in her striking green eyes. He didn''t trust her ¨C not completely, not after everything Oluwa had done. But he wasn¡¯t blind to reality, either. If he wanted to save Inayah, this was his best and only chance.


    "I accept your terms," he said at last, his voice firm. "You focus on keeping Inayah alive, and I¡¯ll find a way to save her."


    He didn¡¯t know what Heba¡¯s true motivations were. Maybe she was telling the truth, and all she wanted was the favour of a future powerhouse. But even if she was hiding something, none of it changed the fact that he had no other options.


    Heba¡¯s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Then tell me, how do you plan to catch up to Ulo¡¯s most talented Mage when he¡¯s already had a five-year head start?"


    Jabari didn¡¯t hesitate. "I don¡¯t know," he admitted. "But I¡¯m guessing you do."


    "I do." Heba¡¯s expression turned serious. "But understand this ¨C if you walk down this path and fail, your fate could be far worse than death."


    Before Jabari could respond, Inayah suddenly grabbed his hand, her grip desperate. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head.


    "Jari, please..." she whispered. "I¡¯m begging you¡­


    Don¡¯t¡­


    Don¡¯t throw your life away because of-"


    Jabari wrenched his hand free, his voice erupting like thunder.


    "ENOUGH!"


    The room fell into stunned silence. His breath came heavy and ragged, his entire body trembling ¨C not with fear, but with blazing wrath and unyielding resolve.


    "I don¡¯t care who I have to step on," he snarled. "Be it Oluwa, the Chief of the Kamara Tribe, or even the devil himself ¨C I will return your Vassal to you!"


    Turning back to Heba, his eyes burned with raw determination.


    "Now tell me what I have to do."


    A mysterious smile curved Heba¡¯s lips. "You have to become a Beast-Warrior."


    Jabari frowned. "A Beast-Warrior? What¡¯s that?"


    "In Ulo, there are two recognised paths to power," Heba began, her voice slow and deliberate. "The first is the path of a Mage, which you¡¯ve heard plenty about by now. The second..." her eyes gleamed, "... Is the path of a Beast-Warrior."


    Jabari leaned forward. "And which is stronger?"


    "There¡¯s no definitive answer to that," Heba admitted. "Both are incredibly powerful in their own right.


    Mages wield the elements to unleash devastating attacks, usually from a distance. Beast-Warriors, on the other hand, rely on the raw strength of their bodies to overwhelm opponents in close combat.


    If two fighters of equal strength clashed ¨C one a Mage, the other a Beast-Warrior ¨C the victor would depend entirely on their individual skill."


    Jabari absorbed her words in silence. The image of a certain lion-looking young man appeared in his mind before asking the only question that truly mattered:


    "What do I need to do to become one? How do I know if I was born with the right qualities?"


    He knew how brutal the path of a Mage was ¨C how strict the requirements were, how rare it was to even qualify, let alone excel. If becoming a Beast-Warrior was anything like that, then this so-called opportunity might be nothing more than another false hope.


    But still¡­


    For the third time that day, he felt it. Hope.


    A foreign, fragile thing. But it was there, flickering in his chest like a lone ember in the dark.


    Heba¡¯s smile widened. "That¡¯s the beauty of it," she said. "Unlike Mages, Beast-Warriors aren¡¯t bound by birthright. There are no biological limitations ¨C no inborn talent required. It all comes down to your own ability."


    Jabari¡¯s heart thudded against his ribs. No limitations. No noble lineage. No predetermined fate. Just ability.


    His excitement surged, but he forced himself to tamp it down. Not yet. Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself.


    "But what about training?" he pressed. "I¡¯ve never had formal training in anything. Won¡¯t that put me at a disadvantage?"


    In the slums, enforcers trained their children from a young age to prepare them for survival. If that was the standard for them, then what about the noble-born heirs of the main settlements? How many years had they already spent honing their bodies, preparing for something like this?


    Heba¡¯s eyes flickered with amusement. "Some training would certainly help improve your results," she admitted. "But when it comes to passing the assessment, only one thing truly matters."


    She let the sentence hang, causing Jabari¡¯s body to stiffen.


    A few seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity before she finally spoke.


    "The real test is that of willpower," she revealed. "As long as your will is strong enough, becoming a Beast-Warrior is all but guaranteed."


    Jabari froze. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.


    If there was one thing he had in abundance, it was will. His entire life had been spent clawing for survival, refusing to break, refusing to bend. If sheer will was all it took ¨C then this path was practically tailor-made for him.


    "Alright," he said, doing his best to keep his anticipation in check. "So how do I do it? How do I become a Beast-Warrior?"


    "The only way," Heba said, "is to pass the Beast-Warrior Trials and gain entry into one of the four common branches of the Beast-Warrior Institute."


    She paused, then added, "Lucky for you, the Western Branch ¨C the closest branch to here ¨C is holding its assessment next week. If you¡¯re serious about this, we¡¯ll need to leave in the next few days to make it in time."


    Jabari exhaled sharply, his pulse hammering with adrenaline.


    A path had opened. A real one. And this time, he wasn¡¯t going to let it slip through his fingers.

 Book 1: Chapter 10 – A New Era

    "Why don''t we just leave today?" Jabari asked impatiently, his voice edged with frustration.


    Heba remained unruffled. "There are a few things I need to prepare to help manage your sister''s condition before we set off," she replied simply. Then, turning toward her guardian mage, she added, "Aten, please escort Inayah and Jabari to their rooms so they can rest until dinner."


    "Of course, Your Highness," Aten acknowledged with a respectful nod.


    Without another word, Jabari strode to the foot of the bed, crouching slightly as he lifted his sister onto his back.


    "I can walk," Inayah began to protest, but the sharp look he shot her silenced any further objections. She knew better than to push him when he was like this.


    With his sister resting quietly against him, Jabari followed the mage up the stairs. Their footsteps echoed softly in the grand hallway, a stark contrast to the noisy, uneven paths of the slums they had known all their lives. When they reached the end of the corridor, Aten gestured toward two opposing doors.


    "Both these rooms are empty. You''re free to choose who sleeps where," he explained.


    "I''ll stay with my sister for now," Jabari stated firmly.


    "As you wish," Aten replied before taking his leave.


    "Ja-"


    "I''m not ready to talk yet," Jabari cut her off, his tone devoid of warmth.


    Carefully, he set Inayah down on the luxurious bed before retreating to a corner of the room, sinking onto the floor. He fixed his gaze on a random spot on the wall, his mind a whirlwind of emotions too tangled to unravel. The plush grey carpet beneath him, the sheer size of the room ¨C larger than the hut they''d lived in for the past five years ¨C none of it mattered.


    Inayah, too, barely registered the softness of the mattress. Her thoughts were entirely consumed by the storm raging within her brother. She had never seen him like this ¨C so raw, so untethered. His pain, his anger, the weight of everything they had endured ¨C it was suffocating.


    She longed for him to say something, anything. Even if it meant shouting, even if it meant unleashing his fury on her, at least then she would know how to help. But instead, all she got was silence. A crushing, deafening silence.


    For the next hour, the siblings remained unmoving, lost in their own thoughts, until Heba¡¯s voice carried up the stairs.


    "Dinner''s ready."


    Jabari stirred at last, rising wordlessly before lifting Inayah onto his back once more. As they descended, a rich, tantalising aroma filled the air. The scent curled around Jabari, beckoning him forward. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled before ¨C warm, spiced, utterly irresistible.


    Without thinking, he quickened his pace, his feet carrying him toward the source of the mouthwatering fragrance. When they reached the dining room, their eyes widened in unison.


    Before them lay a feast ¨C plates upon plates of steaming, glistening food. Roasted meats, fragrant rice, freshly baked bread, and colourful vegetables filled the long table, an overwhelming sight for two children who had spent their lives scraping by on scraps.


    Jabari and Inayah stood frozen, staring, their parched lips slightly parted as saliva pooled at the corners. Never in their lives had they seen so much food in one place.


    A soft chuckle escaped Heba as she took her seat, amused by their awestruck expressions. "Please, sit and dig in."


    "This¡­


    This is for us?" Inayah asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. She slid off her brother¡¯s back, her disbelief plain to see.


    "Of course," Heba answered with an inviting smile.


    Jabari had to force himself to tear his ravenous gaze away from the feast before them. His instincts screamed at him to lunge forward, to devour whatever he could before it was taken away. But hunger had never dulled his caution. His arm shot out, barring Inayah from moving any closer.


    His sharp eyes flickered to Heba and her guards, watching them warily. Trust was a luxury he could not afford.


    Heba, noticing the hesitation in Jabari¡¯s gaze, let out a quiet sigh. Without a word, she picked up a piece of food from her plate and took a deliberate bite, chewing slowly before swallowing. Then she met his eyes once more.


    "See? It¡¯s not poisoned," she said calmly. "Is there something else you¡¯d like me to try?"


    That was all the reassurance Jabari needed. He exhaled slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Gently, he guided Inayah into a chair before dropping into the seat beside her, though his gaze never left the table.


    The cutlery laid out before him might as well have been invisible. Jabari reached forward with his hands, grabbing fistfuls of food and shovelling them into his mouth without hesitation. The moment the first bite hit his tongue, his entire world shifted.


    Flavour exploded across his taste buds in a way he had never experienced before. Tender, spiced meat, buttery rice, crisp vegetables ¨C it was overwhelming, intoxicating. His body, conditioned by years of scarcity, demanded more.


    Only after swallowing his mouthful did he glance at Inayah and nod ¨C a silent confirmation that it was safe.


    Inayah wasted no time following her brother¡¯s lead as she unceremoniously stuffed her face. She chewed as fast as her jaw would allow, savouring each bite yet unable to slow herself down.


    They sampled everything, their hands darting from plate to plate. But Jabari had one rule ¨C every bite had to include meat. Potatoes, rice, vegetables ¨C it didn¡¯t matter. If it wasn¡¯t wrapped in meat, he refused to eat it.


    The contrast at the table was almost comical. On one side, Heba and her guards ate with practiced elegance, their every movement graceful and refined. On the other, Jabari and Inayah devoured their meal with the urgency of those who had known actual starvation, their eating a fusion of survival and enjoyment.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Yet, despite the stark difference, no one seemed out of place. No words were exchanged. Only the sounds of tearing, chewing, and the occasional grunt of satisfaction from the two siblings filled the air.


    For the first time in a long while, hunger was not their enemy.


    ¡­


    At the heart of the Umeme Tribe¡¯s main settlement, just outside a grand stone palace, a middle-aged man with dark skin stood with his entourage gathered respectfully behind him. His short, greying hair bore an elegant golden circlet, and his silky black robe was embroidered with ostentatious golden stitching ¨C a deliberate display of status.


    Yet, despite his regal appearance, both he and his party stood with their heads bowed, facing a lone figure dressed in a simple, sleeveless white robe.


    Had Jabari been present, he might not have recognised the Chief or his attendants, but there was one person he would never be able to forget.


    The young man before them radiated an almost primal presence. His reddish-brown skin glistened under the sun, his thick black mane of hair resembling that of a lion. His massive, sinewy arms, like sculpted logs, hinted at an overwhelming strength, but it was his eyes ¨C wild, arrogant, and dripping with disdain ¨C that commanded true attention. Those eyes looked upon the world as though everything in it was beneath him.


    "Thank you, young master Simian. Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated," Chief Bakara said humbly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.


    Simian scoffed. "If you want to thank someone, thank your son. He¡¯s the one who sent me to protect you, ¡®Chief. ¡¯" The way he emphasised the title made it sound almost mocking.


    Bakara, however, remained composed, choosing to ignore the blatant disrespect. "Please pass on my gratitude to Oluwa and tell him that his father misses him dearly."


    "Whatever," Simian grunted, already turning to leave.


    "Are you certain you wish to depart so soon?" Bakara asked, his tone carefully neutral. "I could inquire once more to see if the Princess would be willing to join us for dinner..."


    "I¡¯ll pass," Simian interrupted, not even bothering to look back. "I have no interest in playing politics. I¡¯ll leave that to Prince Oluwa and the old farts of my Kamara Tribe."


    With that, he strode off, his massive frame cutting through the courtyard like a force of nature, making it abundantly clear he had no desire for further conversation.


    The moment he was out of earshot, one of Bakara¡¯s armoured men let out an indignant huff. "How dare he behave so arrogantly?!" he spat, fury twisting his features.


    Chief Bakara exhaled heavily, his gaze fixed on the ground as if weighing something far heavier than mere words. "Those from the Big Six see us the same way we see those from the slums ¨C like trash," he said bitterly. "Even though my son is the most gifted youth in all of Ulo and the crowned prince of the Kamara Tribe, our Umeme Tribe is still just an ordinary tribe. To them, I am nothing. My title means nothing."


    Though his voice remained calm, his tightly clenched fists and the flicker of resentment in his deep brown eyes betrayed his true feelings.


    "Sir, even if that¡¯s the case, shouldn¡¯t we have tried harder to convince him to stay?" an older man asked anxiously. The memory of the recent assassination attempt still haunted him. "We don¡¯t know if more assassins will be sent."


    "There¡¯s no need," Bakara said, his tone unshaken. "I can handle a killer of that level myself."


    "Then why did Prince Oluwa send that young man here?" another retainer asked, giving voice to the lingering confusion in the group.


    Bakara closed his eyes for a moment before exhaling slowly. "On the surface, it looks like Oluwa sent the little Lion King to protect me," he said, his voice measured. "But I know my son better than anyone. If his only goal was to ensure my safety, he had plenty of warriors stronger than Simian to choose from, warriors far less important to the Kamara Tribe."


    A heavy silence settled over the group as realisation dawned.


    "Oluwa sent Simian here to open my eyes." Bakara¡¯s voice, though quiet, carried the weight of his understanding. "If a young man who has yet to even reach twenty can already rival me ¨C the strongest warrior of our tribe ¨C then that means we are far too weak to stand tall in Ulo. That is why we must work harder than ever before, not just to protect ourselves but to ensure we do not bring shame to my son¡¯s name."


    Determination flared in his eyes as he turned to face his people. "Even though we cannot control the number of Mages born among us, we can increase the number of our Beast-Warriors. From this moment forward, I decree that no youth of our tribe will be permitted to enter this year¡¯s trials. For the next twelve months, the tribe¡¯s other Beast-Warriors and I will personally oversee the training of every aspiring trialist."


    Murmurs of agreement spread through the gathered warriors, their initial shock giving way to an electric surge of excitement. Determination filled their expressions.


    This was the beginning of something new.


    As the group stirred with purpose, Bakara turned his attention away from them, his gaze settling on a figure standing just behind his right shoulder. Unlike the others, this man was cloaked in a hooded robe, his features partially obscured.


    But Bakara did not look at him as he did the rest of his followers. No, in his eyes, there was something else entirely ¨C deep respect.


    "Tobias, have we heard back from Hadiza yet? How did the aptitude test go for the children of the slums?"


    Though Bakara wasn¡¯t expecting much, he still held onto the hope that they might uncover another mage. The power of mages was unparalleled ¨C so much so that every tribe regarded them as living weapons, a force of destruction and prestige.


    It was this very reason that the Chief regarded Tobias with such deep respect. Tobias wasn¡¯t just the tribe¡¯s only mage ¨C he was living proof of what the slums could produce. Over two decades ago, he had been just another boy from the outskirts, yet he had passed the test and risen beyond his origins. Now, he held a position second only to the Chief himself, and by marrying Bakara¡¯s younger sister, he had been fully embraced as a true Umeme.


    "You''ll be pleased to know that a fourteen-year-old girl passed the test," Tobias reported, his tone calm and measured. "She has an aptitude for the fire element."


    A stunned silence filled the space before it exploded into excitement. Eyes widened, voices rose in elation, and then-


    "HAHAHA!" Bakara¡¯s booming laughter rang out. "This is excellent news! The heavens truly favour my Umeme Tribe! And another from the slums, no less." His expression turned thoughtful as realisation struck. "Perhaps it¡¯s time I reconsider the tribe¡¯s laws regarding slum-born children¡­


    From now on, all children ¨C whether from the slums or the main settlement ¨C will be tested together each year."


    His decree sent ripples through the gathered crowd, though this time, the murmurs were not of excitement but unease.


    "Chief, are you certain we sh-"


    "Both of our tribe¡¯s mages have come from the slums," Bakara interrupted, his voice firm. "And both times, we discovered them far too late. Tobias was fifteen. This girl is fourteen. Imagine how much stronger Tobias would be now if he had been trained five years earlier. And that girl ¨C if she had begun at ten, she would already be nearing graduation from the academy." His gaze swept over the hesitant faces before him. "I understand this will cause unrest, but a few hours of discomfort each year is a small price to pay for the future of our tribe."


    His unwavering conviction left no room for dispute.


    "Go now," he commanded. "Spread my decree."


    At once, the gathered followers dispersed, leaving only Tobias and Bakara.


    "Was there something else?" the Chief asked, turning to his brother-in-law.


    "It''s about Princess Heba."


    Bakara frowned. "What is it? Please don¡¯t tell me Hadiza did something to offend her."


    "It''s nothing like that," Tobias reassured him. "Hadiza mentioned that aside from the girl who passed, something else happened..."


    The Chief listened intently as Tobias relayed his report, his expression unreadable. When Tobias finished, Bakara remained silent for a long moment, staring into the distance as he processed the information.


    "You¡¯re certain that girl isn¡¯t a mage?"


    "I¡¯m sure," Tobias replied. "When she placed her hand on the crystal the first time, it must have given a false reading. Rare, but not unheard of."


    Bakara exhaled, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I''ve heard whispers of the Princess'' soft heart. This wouldn¡¯t be the first time she¡¯s shown pity to a slum child..." His voice turned cold. "Ignore it. We cannot afford to entangle ourselves in that woman¡¯s affairs ¨C certainly not over a couple of insignificant brats."


    "I understand," Tobias said quietly before taking his leave, disappearing into the night.


    Bakara remained where he was, tilting his head to the sky. A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips.

 Book 1: Chapter 11 - Reincarnation

    After dinner, Jabari stood beneath a steaming shower in a marble-floored wet room, letting the warmth cascade over his battered body. The grime of years gone by flowed off him in murky rivulets, darkening the once-pristine grey marble beneath his feet. No matter how much filth washed away, more seemed to take its place, as if his very skin had absorbed the squalor of the slums. And yet, for the first time in his life, he felt a level of comfort he never knew existed.


    Still, his mind refused to share in his body¡¯s relief. The weight of the information he had received earlier that day loomed over him, refusing to let go.


    Once he had scrubbed himself clean, he followed Heba''s instructions and eased into the waiting bathtub, its crystal-clear water lapping against his skin. She had claimed it had medicinal properties ¨C something to soothe his malnourished and overtaxed physique. He had been sceptical at first, but the moment he submerged himself, a gasp of surprise escaped him.


    The warmth seeped into his bones, unravelling years of tension he hadn¡¯t even realised he carried. Though his mind remained restless, his body had no such resistance. He could feel the strain of his past life melting away, his muscles softening, becoming more supple with each passing second. It was as if the years of hardship had been stripped from his very being.


    By the time he stepped out, he felt like an entirely different person. His skin was clean in a way it had never been before, and his body ¨C though still underdeveloped ¨C felt several times stronger than it had just an hour ago. For a fleeting moment, he entertained the notion that he might even be a match for the slum enforcers who once seemed untouchable.


    He knew it was a delusion, a trick of his newfound vitality ¨C but still, the thought sent a thrill through him. At the very least, he felt he could take on two of his former selves and walk away easily victorious.


    Walking over to the chair by the door, he dressed in the jogging bottoms and plain white t-shirt Heba had left for him. The moment the fabric touched his skin, he stilled, marvelling at the sensation. It was nothing like the coarse, tattered rags he had always worn. This was soft, light ¨C like being wrapped in a cloud.


    "I never want to take this off," he muttered to himself, running his fingers over the material in awe. The sheer comfort of it was a luxury he had only ever dreamed about.


    While Jabari revelled in the feel of his new clothes, Aten entered the wet room to drain the bath. Jabari turned just in time to see the now-murky water swirling away, disappearing down the drain.


    "Where''s it going?" he asked, eyes wide with alarm.


    Aten barely spared him a glance. "I don''t know. Probably a waste disposal somewhere," he replied, already preparing to scrub away the filth left behind.


    Jabari froze, horror dawning on his face. Before Aten could react, Jabari darted forward and plunged his head back into the draining water, gulping it down in desperate swallows.


    Aten recoiled, his face contorting in startled disgust. "What in the-?!"


    Jabari ignored him, racing against the drain to drink as much as possible before the last drop vanished. Only when the water was completely gone did he finally come up for air, panting slightly. He turned to Aten, eyes alight with conviction.


    "Water is too precious to waste!" he declared, as if imparting a vital truth.


    Aten stared at him, speechless, before exhaling in resignation. He could only imagine the kind of scarcity Jabari had lived through, where even the dirtiest water was a resource too valuable to let go.


    Jabari, seeing what he assumed to be understanding on the mage¡¯s face, gave a satisfied nod. Certain that he had imparted a lesson worth remembering, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room ¨C off to check on Inayah.


    At the sound of the door opening, Inayah glanced up ¨C just for a moment ¨C before quickly averting her eyes. Fear still clung to her, making it impossible to meet his gaze. But then, without hesitation, she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his warm, bony chest. The embrace was everything she had needed, everything she hadn¡¯t known how to ask for.


    "I''m sorry for losing my temper earlier," Jabari murmured, his hand threading gently through her hair. "But I''m your big brother. It¡¯s my job to look after you, not the other way around."


    "I know, but I just di-"


    "I get that you just wanted to protect me," Jabari interrupted softly, resting his chin atop her head. "But you''re the most important person in my life, Inayah. Without you, this life of mine loses all meaning."


    Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, soaking into the fresh fabric of his t-shirt. "Just promise me," he continued, "no more secrets. No more hiding things from me, okay?"


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "I¡­


    I promise," Inayah whispered, wiping at her eyes before burying herself deeper into his embrace.


    Jabari stayed with her long after she drifted off, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her breath. Only when he was certain she was deep in sleep did he slip away, stepping into the dimly lit corridor. His gaze drifted to the window at the far end, where the night stretched endlessly before him, the sky a canvas of faint, flickering stars.


    "You¡¯re still up?" Heba¡¯s soft voice carried through the quiet as she approached, dressed in a plain white nightgown that only seemed to enhance her ethereal presence. "Aren''t you tired?"


    Jabari didn''t turn, his eyes still fixed on the vast expanse outside. "I don¡¯t need much sleep," he answered calmly, though the weight in his voice suggested there was more to it than that.


    Heba studied him for a moment, recognising the unspoken thoughts swirling in his mind. She could have asked, but she chose not to pry. If he wanted to share, he would. If not, she had no right to force it from him.


    They stood in silence for several minutes before she quietly took her leave. Jabari didn''t even notice.


    From the shadows, another presence emerged. "Why are you going so far for a couple of kids from the slums?" Lateef''s voice was low, measured, yet edged with curiosity. "Their goal would be impossible even for your parents. What chance do two untrained, ignorant children have?"


    Heba didn¡¯t flinch at his sudden appearance. She had long known that her guards, even when unseen, were always there, monitoring her safety. It was no surprise that Lateef had overheard her conversation with the siblings. She didn¡¯t mind. There were few people in this world she trusted more than her two personal guards.


    And yet, she chose not to explain.


    Instead, an enigmatic smile curved her lips. "I trust my senses," she said simply. "And you should too."


    As Lateef mulled over her cryptic response, Heba disappeared into the quiet halls of the estate, leaving behind only unanswered questions.


    Not long after, Jabari finally returned to his room ¨C directly across from Inayah¡¯s. He left the door slightly ajar, just in case she needed him in the night.


    The moment he collapsed onto the bed, his body sank into the impossibly soft mattress, a sensation so foreign that a low groan of contentment escaped his lips.


    ''So comfortable.''


    That was his last conscious thought before sleep took him ¨C dragging him, as always, into the depths of his usual hellish nightmares.


    Unbeknownst to him, Heba had silently reappeared in the corridor, watching through the sliver of space in the doorway.


    Her expression shifted from curiosity to genuine surprise as she observed him lurch awake, clutching at his neck in panic for the second time in the last hour. She did not move, did not make a sound ¨C only watched as his breathing slowed, as he lay back down, only to be ripped from sleep again not long after.


    Her gaze darkened, shifting from shock to contemplation. Then, without a word, she faded back into the shadows of the corridor.


    Jabari, completely unaware of his silent observer, continued to suffer through the relentless cycle of nightmares. He rose several times in the night, each time creeping to Inayah¡¯s room to check on her, reassuring himself that she was still there, still safe.


    By the time morning arrived, he felt as though he had been woken a thousand times over.


    With a weary sigh, he rolled out of bed and stepped into the corridor, intending to wait by Inayah¡¯s side until she woke.


    But before he could take another step, Heba¡¯s voice, smooth and captivating, drifted into his ears.


    "How did you sleep?"


    "Amazing," Jabari replied, his expression unreadable ¨C an impressive poker face honed through years of survival in the slums.


    Heba arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Then why did you wake up multiple times last night, clutching your neck as if you''d just been struck?" she asked, a knowing smile playing at her lips.


    At her words, Jabari¡¯s posture stiffened, wariness creeping into his gaze.


    Sensing his growing distrust, Heba raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Relax. I¡¯m not here to pry into your secrets. I was still awake, preparing Inayah¡¯s medicine, when I heard noises coming from your room. When I glanced through the door you left open, I saw you tossing and turning, muttering something too faint for me to hear. Then, you woke up ¨C hands at your throat, as if in agony."


    She paused, studying him. "At first, I assumed it was just an ordinary nightmare...


    But then it happened again. And again. As if on a timer. Each time, you woke the same way, clutching your neck like you were in excruciating pain."


    Jabari exhaled slowly, his mask of indifference slipping back into place. "It¡¯s just a nightmare," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral. He had long since learned to downplay the torment that haunted him.


    Heba crossed her arms, unconvinced. "How long have you been having these nightmares?"


    Jabari merely shrugged his bony shoulders, offering no real answer.


    Heba¡¯s expression hardened. "The next two years will determine not just your future but Inayah¡¯s as well. If you''re constantly exhausted because you can¡¯t sleep, how do you expect to improve fast enough to achieve your goals?"


    Jabari looked away. "It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t want to get rid of them," he admitted. "It¡¯s just...


    Nothing works. I¡¯ve been reliving the same nightmare every night for as long as I can remember." His voice was eerily calm, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate.


    Heba recalled the agony she had witnessed on his face when he jolted awake. His sleep had been fractured, barely lasting twenty minutes at a time. At best, he might have gotten a couple of hours of broken rest each night. No wonder the dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced.


    ''It''s a miracle he''s been able to function at all, let alone care for himself and a sick younger sister. The sheer willpower it must have taken...''


    "What is the nightmare about?" she asked, masking her shock behind a carefully composed expression.


    Jabari hesitated but eventually began to describe it in vivid detail, hoping ¨C though not daring to believe ¨C that she might have a way to free him from it.


    He stood silently afterward, watching as Heba mulled over his words. He had long accepted that the nightmare was a permanent fixture in his life, something he would never escape. Even with all the healing abilities and resources at her disposal, he refused to let himself hope.


    In his mind, the only true way to rid himself of the nightmare was through death ¨C an option he had seriously considered more than once. But every time the thought crossed his mind, the image of Inayah alone in the world would shatter it completely. He could never abandon her.


    Heba suddenly broke the silence.


    "Have you ever heard of reincarnation?" she asked.


    Jabari blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

 Book 1: Chapter 12 – My End of the Deal

    "Have you ever heard of reincarnation?" Heba suddenly asked.


    Jabari raised a brow, caught off guard by the unexpected question.


    "It''s the theory that after death, our souls are wiped clean of all memories before being reborn anew," she explained. "Though usually our souls are wiped clean before are reincarnation, there are rumours of some who¡¯re somehow able to retain partial or even all of the memories of their previous life.


    Still, till now, I simply took it as myth, but given how vivid your nightmares are ¨C and the very real pain you experience upon waking ¨C I¡¯m inclined to believe it might be more than just a theory."


    She studied his face, searching for a reaction before continuing.


    "It would also explain why you can¡¯t make out the faces of the two young men in your dream. Even if someone were to retain memories from a past life, those memories would likely be fragmented, blurred at the edges."


    Jabari exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "That¡¯s great and all, but do you actually have any ideas on how to stop the nightmares? Because right now, I don¡¯t care about theories ¨C I need a solution!"


    Heba took a moment to consider before speaking. "You said you always experience the nightmare from the mage¡¯s perspective, right?"


    Jabari nodded.


    "If these visions really are memories from a past life," she continued, "then the boy who sacrificed himself to kill ¡®you¡¯ ¨C the mage ¨C is likely the real you. If that¡¯s the case, these nightmares might not just be random. They could be caused by repressed guilt."


    Jabari¡¯s brows furrowed. "That makes no sense. Why would I feel guilty?"


    "The act of taking a life is never easy," Heba said gently. "Even the most seasoned warriors struggle with their first kill, no matter how justified it was."


    The moment those words left her lips, something inside Jabari cracked.


    Suddenly, the world around him blurred, and before he could react, he was no longer standing in the hallway with Heba.


    A new vision overtook him ¨C one just as vivid, just as suffocating as his nightmares.


    He found himself peering through the doorway of an unfamiliar kitchen ¨C far more luxurious than anything he had ever seen. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the space, casting long shadows against the polished stone countertops.


    In front of him stood a youth with a broad back, his thick, curly jet-black hair neatly cropped on top and smoothly fading into his ochre-coloured skin at the back and sides.


    Staring at his profile, Jabari felt an almost overwhelming sense of awe, respect, and ¨C above all else ¨C love. It was a love so deep, so raw, that he had only ever felt something similar for Inayah.


    The youth was speaking to someone, but from Jabari¡¯s angle, he could only see the back of another teen. A teen with a long, curly afro tied neatly into a ponytail.


    "It took longer than I would''ve liked, but I finally got rid of that cursed nightmare," the short-haired youth said, exhaling in relief.


    Jabari¡¯s breath hitched. ''That voice...''


    It sounded less mature, but it was still the same voice as the older brother from his nightmare.


    "How did you manage that?" the long-haired teen asked. His voice was impossibly smooth, tranquil, the kind of tone that could calm a raging storm.


    ''And that¡¯s the voice of his friend ¨C the one who was willing to give his life so the two brothers could escape!''


    Jabari¡¯s thoughts were abruptly cut off as the older brother responded.


    "The elders were right, to rid yourself of the curse that follows after taking a life, you must acknowledge the value of every human life ¨C yet hold no regrets for taking it."


    "That sounds easier said than done," the other teen mused.


    "It is," the short-haired youth admitted. "But it¡¯s a lesson worth learning."


    A pause.


    "I have lofty aspirations," he continued, his voice steady with conviction. "But there are others out there with similar goals. I have no doubt that our ambitions ¨C though alike ¨C will one day put us at odds."


    He turned slightly, the firelight catching the side of his face. Even without seeing it clearly, Jabari felt an inexplicable pull toward him.


    "In the grand scheme of things, my life is no more important than theirs," the man said. "But if I want to make my dreams a reality ¨C while protecting the people I care about ¨C I can''t afford to be soft-hearted."


    His voice grew firmer, laced with quiet steel.


    "When I take the lives of my enemies, it¡¯s not because I think my life or dreams matter more than theirs. It¡¯s because, for the future of everything and everyone I love ¨C I simply cannot afford to fail."


    Jabari¡¯s breath caught in his throat.


    And just like that, the vision shattered.


    He was back in the corridor, standing opposite Heba, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.


    ''Even now, I still can¡¯t see their faces.'' Jabari mused as the vision faded, leaving him standing once more in the dimly lit corridor.


    His pulse was still racing, his mind still reeling, but one truth had become undeniable.


    "I think you were right," he admitted, turning to Heba, who stood calmly waiting, her expression unreadable. "That...


    That felt like a memory. A memory from another life."


    He was still struggling to fully grasp it, but as he replayed the scene in his mind, something caught his attention ¨C something he had almost missed.


    For the briefest moment, he had seen his own reflection in a window. But this time, he wasn¡¯t the crimson-haired mage. He was the boy who had killed him.


    The same boy who looked nearly identical to the him of this life.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What happened?" Heba asked, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes. "Did you access another memory?"


    "I did, but this time..." Jabari trailed off, his thoughts still racing.


    Without hesitation, he began recounting everything he had seen, excitement creeping into his voice at the possibility that this might lead to a way to rid himself of the nightmares.


    Heba listened intently, absorbing every detail, every nuance. If there were even the slightest clue hidden within his words, she would find it.


    Then, as he finished, she suddenly straightened. "Come with me for a moment; I might know a way to help you."


    Jabari¡¯s heart skipped a beat at her words, but before following, he turned toward Inayah¡¯s room.


    "Give me a moment. I just need to check on Inayah," he said before slipping inside, leaving the princess waiting in the corridor.


    The door creaked softly as he stepped in. Inayah stirred at the sound, turning toward him as she groggily rubbed the sleep from the corners of her eyes. The moment she saw her brother¡¯s face, a sleepy yet radiant smile spread across her lips.


    "How did you sleep?" Jabari asked, reaching out to ruffle her hair.


    "Amazing," she said, her voice thick with drowsiness. "That was the best night¡¯s sleep I¡¯ve ever had!" She yawned right after, as if contradicting her own words.


    Jabari chuckled. "Then go back to sleep," he said gently, his heart swelling at the sight of her so peaceful, so comfortable.


    She blinked up at him but perked up instantly when he added, "I won¡¯t be long. I just need to have a quick chat with Heba ¨C she said she might be able to help me with my nightmares."


    "Really?!" Inayah gasped, fully awake now.


    If there was anyone who wanted Jabari¡¯s nightmares gone as much as he did, it was her. She, more than anyone, knew how much of a toll they took on him.


    It was also the reason he had refused to sleep in the same room as her, despite her pleas. He didn¡¯t want her constantly waking up because of him ¨C especially given her condition.


    Now that there was hope, she could barely contain her excitement.


    Jabari saw it in her eyes the second she started moving.


    "Where do you think you¡¯re going?" he asked, placing firm hands on her shoulders before she could get out of bed.


    "But-"


    "But nothing," he cut in, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Your only job is to rest and stay as healthy as possible. No exceptions."


    "But-"


    "No," Jabari said again, his tone final. "I promise to tell you everything when I get back. Now go back to sleep."


    Inayah huffed, crossing her arms. "Okay, fine!" she grumbled, though her pout did little to hide her relief.


    Jabari gave her one last reassuring smile before stepping out of the room.


    "I''m ready," he said, turning back to Heba, who had been waiting patiently.


    "Good," she said, motioning for him to follow.


    Without another word, she led him through the house and out the back, stepping into a spacious concrete courtyard. A grand stone fountain stood at its centre, water trickling in gentle streams. Four stone benches surrounded it in perfect symmetry, as if the space had been designed for quiet contemplation.


    The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of earth and water.


    Jabari glanced around.


    "What is this place?" he asked.


    Heba turned to face him, the faint glow of the fountain-light casting sharp shadows across her face.


    "A place where we might just find your answers," she said.


    "What are we do-"


    Before Jabari could finish his sentence, his words faded into silence as his ears were blessed with the most enchanting sound he had ever heard.


    His breath caught in his throat as he followed the melody to its source.


    There, poised gracefully on a stone bench before the fountain, was a vision so ethereal it felt almost unreal. An angel, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, plucked delicately at the strings of a shimmering silver harp, each golden thread pulsing faintly with an otherworldly light.


    Heba.


    She played with a grace that transcended reality, her fingers weaving a melody that resonated deep within his soul. Each note carried something intangible, something that seeped into the very marrow of his being. It was a song that whispered of forgotten dreams, of burdens eased, of a longing finally met.


    Jabari barely noticed his own consciousness slipping away, lulled into sleep by the hauntingly beautiful harmony.


    But this time¡­


    This time, the dream didn¡¯t begin where it usually did.


    Instead, he found himself ¨C no, ¡®himself¡¯ ¨C standing alone in a dense forest, the crimson-haired fire mage staring down at the metallic bracelet fastened to his wrist. A holographic figure flickered above it, cloaked in shadows.


    "Remember, both brothers must die. Do you understand?" the hooded figure commanded icily.


    "Yes, your eminence," the mage replied, his voice laced with forced obedience. He bowed his head with due reverence.


    The figure remained silent for a moment before speaking again.


    "I know you won¡¯t fail because you are well aware of the consequences. Your family¡¯s safety depends on your success. Only if you complete this mission will you be allowed to return home."


    Then, without another word, the hologram cut off, leaving behind only the cold hum of the bracelet.


    The mage remained still, unmoving. But Jabari could see it ¨C the way his hands trembled as he clenched them into tight fists.


    "I¡¯ll return to you all soon," the mage whispered, so softly that only the trees bore witness to his plea.


    Jabari¡¯s heart pounded as the realisation sank in. ¡®He wasn¡¯t hunting them out of malice. He was doing it because it was the only way to see his family again.¡¯


    Just as the weight of that understanding settled over him, the dream shifted again ¨C this time returning to its usual beginning.


    The mage launched his attack. The battle unfolded as it always did, each moment burned into Jabari¡¯s mind. But now, with this new knowledge, everything felt different.


    Before, the mage had simply been the villain. An enemy. Now, though?


    Now, Jabari saw the man for what he truly was ¨C a desperate soul caught in a cruel web, doing whatever it took to reunite with the people he loved.


    And as Jabari watched the nightmare proceed with his new perspective, he saw something he had never noticed before.


    The expression on his past self¡¯s face wasn¡¯t one of fear. It was one of love.


    A love so strong, so unwavering, that there was nothing he wouldn¡¯t do to protect those he held dear.


    Just as in this life, where that love was reserved for Inayah, in his past life, it appeared to have been for his older brother.


    And then, just before the dream dissolved, the words of the mage echoed through his mind once more. ¡®To rid yourself of the curse that follows after taking a life, you must acknowledge the value of every human life... yet hold no regrets for taking it.¡¯


    The words settled deep inside Jabari¡¯s soul, and something clicked.


    As he woke from the dream, he barely registered the sharp pain stabbing through his neck. He was too lost in thought, his mind turning over the revelation again and again.


    The mage had only been trying to return home. And yet, despite knowing that, despite acknowledging the man¡¯s pain, Jabari felt no regret for what had happened.


    Because, in the end, the mage threatened his family. And there was nothing he would ever regret doing in the name of protecting those he loved.


    ¡®I acknowledge the importance of your life...


    But I will never regret taking the life of anyone who threatens my family!¡¯


    The moment that thought crystallised in his mind, something inside him shifted. A weight he hadn¡¯t even realised he was carrying suddenly lifted.


    Jabari exhaled, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt free. Unfettered.


    A genuine smile ¨C one of pure, unburdened satisfaction ¨C spread across his lips as he embraced this newfound clarity.


    He turned toward Heba, ready to speak-


    And then, without warning, an excruciating pain tore through his body.


    Jabari¡¯s knees buckled as agony washed over him in an unstoppable wave.


    ¡­


    At the same time, in a distant corner of the world, high above the sea, a man floated lazily through the clouds, his body shifting with the wind as though weightless.


    Dressed in a baggy yellow and white jester¡¯s outfit, he appeared to be fast asleep, a large bubble of snot inflating and deflating from the nose hole of his mask with each breath.


    Then, the ocean below stirred.


    A titanic azure-scaled flood dragon burst from the depths, its serpentine form splitting the waves as it launched toward the jester, its gaping maw lined with blade-like teeth.


    The beast roared, the sound splitting space as it hurtled toward its prey-


    But just before it could reach him, the sky itself answered.


    A streak of fire ¨C no, a meteor ¨C blazed down from above, striking the dragon¡¯s skull with terrifying force.


    The impact crushed the massive creature instantly, snuffing out its life before it could even comprehend what had happened.


    Its body, along with the smouldering meteor, crashed back into the sea, sending a colossal wave rippling outward.


    It was only then ¨C after being splashed by the ocean spray ¨C that the jester finally stirred.


    With a long, exaggerated yawn, he sat up mid-air, crossing his legs as he peered down at the now-dead beast.


    The silver light in his eyes gleamed with something indecipherable. Then, without warning-


    "HAHAHAHA!"


    A deep, booming laughter erupted from his masked face, carrying across the sky.


    "Even after a thousand years, you still find ways to surprise me, old friend!" he cackled, his amusement genuine.


    Then, tilting his masked face toward the heavens, he murmured softly,


    "Fear not ¨C I will keep my end of the deal."


    And with those final words, his body dissolved into the wind, his form fading like a forgotten dream.

 Book 1: Chapter 13 – Spiritual Energy

    The pain Jabari felt wasn¡¯t unfamiliar. It was the same searing agony that yanked him from his night terrors every time he dared to close his eyes. The difference was that, usually, the pain vanished after a few fleeting seconds ¨C but this time, the sharp, stabbing sensation in his neck refused to relent.


    Deep down, he knew he hadn''t been stabbed, but the raw intensity of the pain was so convincing that he couldn¡¯t resist checking. His trembling fingers found no blood, no wound, only clammy skin slick with sweat. The lack of injury should have reassured him; instead, it only deepened his dread.


    "What¡­


    What''s happening to me?!" he rasped, clutching his neck as he struggled to breathe.


    His body begged him to cry out, to release the agony trapped in his chest, but the memory of Inayah sleeping peacefully inside anchored him. He forced his mouth shut, stuffed the hem of his fresh, crisp t-shirt between his teeth, and bit down with all his might.


    An unshakable instinct whispered to him that if he allowed himself to pass out, he might never wake up again. The thought chilled him to his core. He didn¡¯t know where this certainty came from, but the gravity of it left no room for doubt.


    The pain, however, refused to yield. It gnawed at him with unrelenting cruelty, stretching seconds into eternities. His resolve wavered. His consciousness teetered on the brink.


    Just as he began to surrender, a voice sliced through the suffocating haze like a bolt of lightning. Heba¡¯s voice. ¡°If you can¡¯t overcome this little bit of pain, you¡¯ll never manage to save your sister!¡±


    Suddenly, Inayah¡¯s face appeared in his mind ¨C a soft beacon of light in the oppressive void. Her innocent smile, her trusting eyes, her entire being became his lifeline. Clinging to that image, Jabari channelled every ounce of his dwindling strength into resisting the siren call of unconsciousness.


    Time lost all meaning. Each passing second felt like a battle waged with nothing but sheer willpower. And then, just as the last ember of his resolve threatened to burn out, the pain relented.


    Relief washed over him in waves, drawing a weak smile to his lips as he collapsed into oblivion.


    From the shadows, Heba observed the boy¡¯s ordeal in silence. When the pain subsided and his body finally slumped, she turned her head toward the entrance and gave Lateef a subtle nod.


    The tall figure stepped forward, scooping Jabari¡¯s limp form into his arms with ease.


    "Looks like I was right to trust my senses after all," Heba murmured to herself, her gaze softening as a faint, knowing smile curved her lips.


    ¡­


    When Jabari awoke, darkness cloaked the world beyond the window.


    He sat up slowly, surprised by how light his body felt. For the first time in years, his mind was free of the oppressive fog of exhaustion. The ever-present migraine that had been his unwelcome companion for as long as he could remember was gone, replaced by a clarity that was almost dizzying.


    Looking down, he spotted Inayah curled up beside him, her tiny frame tucked into a ball. Her delicate breaths, slow and steady, filled him with warmth. He smiled and shook his head, marvelling at how serene she looked.


    It was then that he noticed the shift.


    Despite the pitch-black room, he saw her perfectly ¨C the soft rise and fall of her chest, the strands of hair resting against her forehead. More than that, he could smell the faint trace of the fragrant soap Heba had given them, the subtle floral sweetness still clinging to their skin.


    His first thought was that this clarity was simply the result of a proper night¡¯s sleep. Perhaps his exhaustion had dulled his senses for years, and this was how everyone experienced the world.


    But deep down, he knew better.


    No amount of rest could account for the vividness with which he perceived his surroundings. This was something different. Something more.


    ''Hmm, what¡¯s that?'' Jabari¡¯s eyes widened in confusion as a strange warmth bloomed between his brows ¨C a soft, comforting sensation unlike anything he¡¯d ever felt.


    Drawn to the peculiar feeling, he instinctively shifted his focus inward. There, in the space behind his glabella, he ¡°saw¡± it: a small, translucent sphere of white mist no larger than a fingernail. It pulsed faintly, like a tiny star breathing in the darkness of his mind.


    Despite never encountering anything like it, Jabari felt an inexplicable familiarity with the mist. It wasn¡¯t foreign. It was his ¨C an extension of himself, as natural as a hand or foot. He knew, without knowing how, that he could control it.


    With a simple thought, the mist stirred. It surged backward and spread through his brain like a cool stream of light.


    ''This... this is incredible!'' he thought, his mind suddenly humming with new vitality.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The mist sharpened his thoughts, doubling the speed of his mental processes. And that was only the beginning. Guided by instinct, Jabari willed the mist to flow toward his eyes.


    The moment it reached them, his vision sharpened to an extraordinary degree. He glanced toward the window and gasped. ''This is insane!''


    Though it was the dead of night, the darkness no longer hindered him. Across the courtyard, more than twenty metres away, he spotted a spider creeping toward a fly ensnared in its web. He could see the fine details of the spider¡¯s spindly legs as they shifted with calculated precision, the sticky silk trembling beneath their delicate weight.


    Even more astonishing, time itself seemed to slow. The spider¡¯s movements no longer appeared jerky or hurried; each step unfolded as though he were watching a slowed-down recording.


    Eager to explore further, he directed the mist from his eyes to his ears.


    Instantly, his hearing expanded. The distant hum of insects filled the night air like a symphony, each buzz and chirp crisp and distinct. His ears caught the faint, frantic vibrations of trapped flies struggling in the spider¡¯s web, their tiny wings beating in futile desperation.


    One by one, Jabari guided the mist to each of his senses ¨C smell, taste, and touch ¨C relishing the extraordinary clarity it brought. Every shift in the air, every faint scent, every microscopic detail of the world around him became vivid and tangible.


    ''I think I¡¯ll call you Spirit for now,'' he thought, returning the mist to the space behind his brows.


    Yet even as the mist settled, an unshakable curiosity tugged at him. There was something more it could do. He could feel it.


    Without hesitation, Jabari sent the spirit back to his brain and willed it to divide into five equal streams, each one directed toward a different sensory organ.


    The moment the mist touched all five senses simultaneously, though, agony erupted through his skull.


    "ARGH!" he roared, his body convulsing as though lightning had struck him.


    The bed rattled beneath him as he thrashed from side to side, his muscles seizing with each pulse of pain. Sweat poured from his skin, soaking the sheets within seconds.


    "Jari?! What¡¯s wrong? What happened?!" Inayah¡¯s terrified voice pierced the haze of pain.


    Jabari couldn¡¯t respond. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ground against one another. His hands clutched his temples as if trying to contain the explosion ravaging his mind.


    "HEBA! HELP! PLEASE HELP HIM!" Inayah screamed, her tiny hands gripping his arm as if her touch alone could anchor him through the storm.


    The door burst open with a crash. Lateef, with his sword drawn, and Aten, who held a shimmering orb of water suspended above his palm, entered first, followed closely by Heba.


    Their eyes scanned the room, searching for danger. Finding no visible threat, Heba¡¯s gaze fell on Jabari¡¯s writhing form.


    Her expression shifted from caution to concern as she took a step closer. "What¡¯s wrong with you now?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.


    ¡­


    The following morning, Jabari woke from yet another unplanned, bone-deep slumber ¨C the irony of it all not lost on him.


    Before meeting Heba, sleep had been an elusive tormentor, always just out of reach. Now, it seemed to ambush him without warning.


    Glancing around the room, he felt a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu as his eyes landed on Inayah curled up beside him, her tiny frame tucked into a familiar ball. The difference this time was the pale morning light streaming through the window, casting soft golden patterns across the wooden floor.


    His thoughts drifted back to the moments before he''d blacked out, and he inhaled deeply, a faint shiver running through him. The pain he''d endured still haunted him.


    The agony from breaking the nightmare curse had lasted longer, sure ¨C but this? This was something else entirely. When he''d split his spirit among all five senses, the pain had been sharper, more immediate. It had felt like every nerve in his brain was being skewered simultaneously.


    Now that the pain was gone, clarity replaced the confusion.


    He remembered the exact moment when the energy, once contained within his senses, had extended outward, forming an invisible sphere roughly a metre in radius. Within that sphere, his senses had operated in unison ¨C seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling every detail around him with unnerving precision.


    But his mind hadn¡¯t been ready. The torrent of sensory information had been too much, too fast, forcing his body to shut down in self-defence.


    ''I was lucky to survive that,'' Jabari thought grimly. His gaze shifted to the bedside table, where an empty mug rested, still carrying the faint, pungent scent of medicine. ''I guess I owe Heba even more than I thought.''


    As his mind replayed the incident, another detail emerged ¨C a fleeting moment of surprise just before the agony consumed him.


    He remembered the air around him brimming with countless tiny motes of light. They had drifted like dandelion seeds, shimmering softly. When his spirit touched them, a feeling of warmth and familiarity washed over him. It was a sensation unlike any he''d known: peaceful, inviting... almost like a long-forgotten memory.


    "Just what was that?" Jabari murmured, his brows knitting together. He longed to experience that feeling again, but he also knew he wasn¡¯t ready. Not yet.


    "Jari?"


    His sister¡¯s drowsy voice pulled him from his thoughts. Looking down, he saw her eyelids flutter open.


    "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice small, her eyes still shadowed with worry.


    "I feel amazing," he answered truthfully, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he ruffled her hair.


    "That¡¯s good!" Inayah let out a relieved sigh. "You were screaming so much last night; I got really scared."


    "I¡¯m sorry for scaring you," Jabari said, guilt flickering through his chest. "But I promise, I feel like a whole new person. You don¡¯t have to worry about me anymore."


    "Okay..." she nodded hesitantly, then tilted her head. "How long do you think you¡¯ve been asleep?"


    Jabari frowned. "I dunno... a few hours?"


    "It¡¯s been three days," Inayah declared matter-of-factly, wrinkling her nose. "That¡¯s why you smell so bad."


    "Three days?!" Jabari¡¯s jaw dropped. "Wait, hold on ¨C three whole days?"


    Inayah giggled and pinched her nose. "Yup. And you stink like rotten eggs."


    Jabari groaned, rubbing his face. "Unbelievable. Have you been taking the medicine Heba said she¡¯d make for you?"


    "Yeah," Inayah said, her expression twisting with disgust. "It tastes disgusting, though."


    "But does it work? How do you feel?"


    "I feel great! I don¡¯t get dizzy as much anymore."


    "That¡¯s amazing news!" Jabari beamed, pulling her into a hug and squeezing her tightly. Relief flooded his chest. He¡¯d been grateful to Heba for helping with his nightmare, but this ¨C this was different. Nothing mattered more to him than Inayah¡¯s health.


    "Ugh, Jari!" she squealed, still pinching her nose. "You really smell bad!"


    "You¡¯ve only been out of the slums for a few days, and already you¡¯re too posh to handle a little body odour?" Jabari teased, giving her cheeks a playful pinch. "All right, Princess Clean. Go back to your room while I take a shower. Can¡¯t have you fainting from my stench."


    Inayah giggled and scrambled off the bed. As she skipped toward the door, Jabari couldn''t help but smile, the warmth of her laughter pushing away the lingering chill of the memories from the night before.

 Book 1: Chapter 14 – Good News Comes in Twos

    After finally shooing Inayah away, Jabari stepped into his bathroom to take what was only the second proper shower of his life.


    "I wonder how many of these it''ll take to wash away all the filth," he muttered, watching the grimy water swirl around the drain before disappearing into the pipes below.


    All layers of dirt might not have been entirely gone, but the difference was undeniable. His skin, though still dull in some places, had shed much of the grime that once clung to it like a second skin. His bloodshot eyes had cleared significantly, and the heavy bags that had stubbornly settled beneath them were now mere shadows of their former selves.


    He turned to the small, foggy mirror and ran a hand through his tangled mini afro. It remained a knotted mess, but his complexion was now a cleaner, healthier shade of brown.


    Hanging from the hooks on the back of the door were a pair of brown shorts and a plain black t-shirt. Jabari eyed them curiously. ''Heba must¡¯ve left these out for me.''


    He pulled on the shorts and immediately noted how much softer they were compared to the rough, oversized rags he''d grown accustomed to. Still, the waistband felt unfamiliar, stiff compared to the joggers he¡¯d worn the day before. After a moment''s consideration, he switched back into his old jogging bottoms but kept the black t-shirt, relishing its clean scent.


    By the time he made his way downstairs, he found Heba, Inayah, and the two guards already seated at the dining table, waiting to start eating their lunch.


    His gaze settled on Heba, and for a fleeting moment, confusion flickered across his face. As soon as his eyes met hers, fragments of a memory rushed to the surface: her voice, sharp and unwavering, piercing through his agony the night of his ordeal.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t overcome this little bit of pain, you¡¯ll never manage to save your sister!¡±


    How had she known? How could she possibly have understood what he was experiencing or the cost of his failure? Jabari clenched his fists beneath the table. He needed answers, but now wasn¡¯t the right time.


    "You didn¡¯t like the shorts?" Heba¡¯s voice drew him from his thoughts.


    "They were nice," he replied, forcing a smile as he tugged on the elastic waistband of his joggers. "But these are just way too comfortable."


    "I¡¯ll keep that in mind," she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile before she delicately sliced into her omelette.


    The moment she raised her fork to her mouth, Lateef and Aten followed suit with military precision. Jabari¡¯s eyes then drifted to Inayah, who was attempting ¨C somewhat clumsily ¨C to imitate the adults with her cutlery.


    His lips twitched with amusement at her determined expression.


    As he turned his attention to his own plate, though, his stomach growled audibly. The large ham and cheese omelette sat there invitingly, its golden surface glistening. He eyed the fork and knife to his right but dismissed them as more trouble than they were worth. Instead, he picked up the omelette with his hands, his mouth watering at the tantalising aroma.


    Just as he was about to take a bite, a wild idea struck him. His grin widened as he channelled his spirit to his brain and then directed it to his tongue.


    The moment his teeth sank into the omelette, his taste buds erupted with an intensity that nearly brought tears to his eyes. Flavours flooded his senses ¨C rich, savoury ham, melted cheese with just the right hint of sharpness, and fluffy eggs cooked to perfection.


    "Ish ish ikedibl (This is incredible)!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of food, cheeks bulging with the delicious bite.


    Heba chuckled softly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "I¡¯m glad you like it. I made it myself."


    The Princess inclined her head graciously before placing her utensils on her plate. "We leave tomorrow morning. If there¡¯s anything you need to do before then, today¡¯s your last chance."


    Jabari¡¯s initial instinct was to shake his head ¨C there was nothing in the slums he cared to retrieve. But then two faces flashed across his mind.


    He hesitated. "I know this is a big ask, and I understand if the answer¡¯s no, but...


    Is there any chance we have space for three more people to come with us?"


    Jabari was, of course, referring to Luna, who had been monumental in taking care of Inayah whilst he went out hunting, her mother, and old man Thabo, who constantly provided them with access to clean water without asking for anything in return.


    For a moment, Heba said nothing. Jabari¡¯s heart raced as he searched her face for any sign of rejection.


    Finally, she gave a small nod. "We have more than enough space."


    "Thank you!" Jabari practically jumped to his feet. He kissed Inayah on the forehead, then bolted toward the door before the Princess had a chance to change her mind.


    The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Heba watching his retreating figure with an amused glint in her eyes.


    "He moves fast when he wants to," Lateef remarked dryly.


    "That he does," Heba said softly, eyes lingering on the doorway. "That he does."


    Even though the main settlement was unfamiliar territory, the towering structure beside the main gates stood like a beacon, visible from almost anywhere within the Tribe¡¯s territory. With that as his guide, Jabari navigated his way out without a second thought.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He sprinted through the streets, paying no mind to the curious, wary glances cast his way. Excitement propelled him forward ¨C finally, he could repay, in some small way, the two people who had done the most for him and Inayah during their time in the slums.


    Passing through the gates beneath the watchful gazes of several guards, Jabari followed the worn dirt path toward the place he had once called home. Only days had passed since he''d left, yet the journey already felt surreal, like retracing the steps of a life that no longer belonged to him.


    The closer he drew to the slums, the more his senses rebelled against the assault of rancid, stagnant air. The familiar stench ¨C once dulled by years of forced acclimation ¨C now struck him with nauseating clarity. Still, as he crossed the invisible threshold back into the slums, his body instinctively relaxed. The streets might be filthy, and the air might cling to his skin like grease, but this place had been his home for as long as he could remember.


    He moved through the narrow alleys with purpose, weaving past the makeshift shacks that housed the slum¡¯s forgotten residents. Whispers followed him, and more than a few pairs of eyes lingered on him with unease.


    ''Guess they heard about the assessment,'' Jabari thought, brushing off the attention. After all, it wasn¡¯t every day someone from the slums was invited into a noble¡¯s residence, let alone spoken to in private.


    Ignoring the stares, he made his way to old man Thabo¡¯s water store. When he arrived, he stopped short.


    The door was shut. The single, dim light that usually glowed through the cracks of the wooden walls was absent. Usually, the store always remained open, rain or shine, morning or night.


    "That¡¯s weird," Jabari muttered, stepping forward to rattle the door handle. Locked.


    In all his years here, Thabo had never closed shop. Not once.


    A middle-aged woman shuffled past, her thin frame draped in mismatched layers of threadbare cloth.


    "Hey! Do you know what happened to old man Thabo?" Jabari called out.


    The woman glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his for an instant before her expression twisted into something that sent a chill through him ¨C fear!


    Without a word, she turned and hurried away, disappearing around a corner.


    Jabari¡¯s frown deepened. "What exactly is going on around here?"


    A prickling sensation crept up his neck as he moved toward his next destination. The tension in the air, the wary eyes, the locked door ¨C it all set him on edge. His pace slowed as his instincts screamed caution.


    "I shouldn¡¯t have rushed off alone," he muttered. With hindsight came regret; asking Heba for an escort now seemed like the obvious choice.


    As he reached a familiar shack, he paused to gather himself. The small, run-down structure stood only slightly larger than the one he and Inayah had shared. Jabari knocked gently on the warped wooden door.


    It opened a crack, then wider.


    The woman who stood there had kind eyes and a soft smile that belied the hardships etched into her weathered face. Her long black hair, streaked with strands of silver, framed strong shoulders and a lean frame.


    "Looks like my daughter was right," she said, her voice gentle. "You really did come back."


    Jabari smiled and dipped his head respectfully. "It¡¯s good to see you again, Miss Makena."


    Even dressed in worn rags, Makena, Luna¡¯s mother, carried herself with quiet strength, a grace that time and circumstance had yet to strip away.


    Jabari stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.


    "Have a seat," Makena said, lowering herself onto one of the two logs positioned in the middle of what appeared to be a combined living and bedroom. Fur-skin mattresses were laid out against opposite walls, the sparse furnishings speaking of a life where practicality trumped comfort. "Sorry I can¡¯t offer you anything to eat or drink."


    "That¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not hungry," Jabari replied, taking a seat while his eyes kept flicking toward the door. "By the way, is Luna around?"


    "Unfortunately not. We don¡¯t live here anymore," Makena said with a teasing glint in her eyes. "If it weren¡¯t for her insisting I come back every day to wait for her little boyfriend, I wouldn¡¯t have returned either."


    Jabari didn¡¯t even blink at the jab. After years of enduring Makenna¡¯s relentless teasing and playful prodding, he¡¯d long grown immune. Unlike Luna, who turned as red as a sunset at the mere suggestion of romance, Jabari had learned to let it roll off his back. Besides, he was too preoccupied with something else she¡¯d just said.


    "You don¡¯t live here anymore?" he asked, brow furrowed. "Where did you move to?"


    "Well," Makena said, straightening with unmistakable pride, "after you left with that noble lady, Luna managed to pass the aptitude assessment." Her smile stretched across her face. "Now that she¡¯s on track to becoming a mage, the Tribe let us move into the main settlement."


    "Wait, what?!" Jabari¡¯s mouth fell open. "That¡¯s incredible! I¡¯m so happy for her!"


    Makena¡¯s eyes twinkled with maternal pride. "You can tell her yourself when you see her later."


    "What do you mean?" Jabari asked, blinking in confusion.


    The older woman chuckled softly and leaned forward. "After Luna passed the assessment, not only did we get noble status, but we were also given a big fancy manor with its own staff and everything." She shook her head, still sounding like she couldn¡¯t quite believe it herself. "But my daughter couldn¡¯t stand the thought of never seeing her little boyfriend again."


    Jabari sighed, though a small smile crept across his lips. "What did she do?"


    "Almost got herself thrown out, that¡¯s what!" Makena laughed. "She demanded to know if you could, at the very least, work in the household. When they said no, she kicked up a fuss ¨C started arguing with the invigilator like a stubborn mule. I tell you, Jabari, my heart nearly stopped. I thought they¡¯d kill her on the spot."


    Jabari''s eyes widened. He¡¯d seen the nobles'' disdain for slum residents. Confronting them like that, for most, was understandably unthinkable.


    "But she wouldn¡¯t back down," Makena continued. "She said if they didn¡¯t let her have her way, she¡¯d refuse the offer and stay in the slums with you." She shook her head in disbelief. "Thankfully, it turns out being a mage ¨C even an untrained one ¨C comes with more sway than I ever imagined. The invigilator eventually caved."


    Jabari¡¯s chest tightened as the weight of her words sank in. He could picture Luna, fire in her eyes, standing toe-to-toe with someone who could end her with a flick of their wrist. All because she didn¡¯t want to leave him behind.


    He swallowed the lump in his throat. ¡®One friend may have betrayed me, but the other stood by me without hesitation.''


    "Anyway," Makena said, breaking into his thoughts, "I¡¯ve been coming back here every day since, bouncing between this shack and yours, hoping to run into you. But now that you¡¯re here, let¡¯s grab little Yah-Yah and get going. Time to leave this place behind for good."


    Jabari¡¯s heart warmed at the affectionate nickname for his sister. But as much as he appreciated the offer, he shook his head with a grateful smile.


    "Thank you, really. And please thank Luna for me. But we can¡¯t come with you."


    Makena¡¯s smile faltered. "What do you mean you can¡¯t come with us? This is your chance to get out of the slums once and for all!"


    Jabari rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "I know. And I¡¯m so thankful for what Luna tried to do. But the woman who took us after the assessment? She¡¯s helping us too. Inayah and I have already left the slums. I actually came back today to bring you and Luna with us."


    Makena¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. "You what?"


    Jabari¡¯s smile grew as he saw the mix of surprise and hope on her face. "Yeah. It came as a shock to me too, but we¡¯re leaving the tribe tomorrow. And we want you to come with us."

 Book 1: Chapter 15 – Jabari Vs The Enforcer

    "Even if you don''t plan to stick with us from now on, you could at least walk this old lady back to the main settlement," Makena said with a playful huff as she stood from her seat and stretched her back.


    Jabari chuckled softly as he rose to follow her to the door. "Sorry, Miss Makena, but I¡¯ve got one more stop to make before I head back." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "By the way, you don¡¯t know what happened to old man Thabo, do you?"


    Makena¡¯s brow furrowed. "I don¡¯t know how true this is, but one of the enforcers told me he simply got bored of the monotony. Apparently, he closed up shop and decided to wander Ulo as a nomad." She gave a dismissive shrug. "Everyone¡¯s saying he finally went senile in his old age."


    Jabari''s expression darkened as he processed the news.


    "Ah, sorry, I forgot you two were close," Makena said quickly, guilt flashing across her face. "I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine. He¡¯s a tough old goat!"


    "It¡¯s okay," Jabari said with a heavy sigh. "Something tells me the old man¡¯s just fine wherever he is. I just wish I¡¯d at least gotten to say goodbye.


    Anyway," Jabari added, forcing a smile as he stepped outside. "I¡¯ll see you later, Miss Makena. Tell Luna congrats from me."


    "I will," Makena said, pulling him into a warm hug. "Take care of yourself, Jabari ¨C and that little sister of yours too."


    The moment he turned the corner and was out of her line of sight, Jabari broke into a sprint. His smile evaporated. His breathing quickened.


    He¡¯d lied about having another stop to make. Ever since he''d re-entered the slums, a sick, heavy feeling had settled in his stomach. An eerie sense of being watched clung to him like a shadow. The wary glances, the fearful avoidance ¨C they weren¡¯t just about his meeting with Heba. Something else was going on. And whatever it was, it sent a chill down his spine.


    Jabari¡¯s feet pounded the ground as he raced toward the safety of Heba''s residence. The further he got from the slums, the harder his heart hammered against his ribs. The air itself felt thicker, charged with a tension he couldn¡¯t shake. Then it hit him.


    The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. A prickling sensation flooded his skin, a silent scream from his instincts.


    Without thinking, Jabari dove forward.


    SHHHNK!


    A rusted sword whistled through the air where his neck had been just a heartbeat before.


    Jabari hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled instinctively, scrambled to his feet, and spun toward his attacker.


    Recognition hit him like a blow to the gut.


    "You?!"


    The man standing before him was the same enforcer who''d broken up the fight outside the tavern the night before Inayah''s aptitude test. His uniform, though just as filthy and rusty as before, seemed more sinister now. In his hand was a chipped, rust-speckled blade, its jagged edge still trembling from the force of the swing.


    "Why are you attacking me?" Jabari demanded, his voice cracking as he backed away. His legs trembled beneath him despite his efforts to stay calm. "What did I do to offend you?"


    The enforcer''s lips curled into a humourless grin as he advanced slowly, step by measured step. "To me?" He shook his head. "Nothing."


    "Then why?"


    "The people you offended this time..." the man said, voice dripping with disdain. "ain¡¯t from the slums."


    Jabari''s heart skipped a beat. "People?" he echoed in confusion. He thought back to the aptitude test. He knew he''d upset Lady Hadiza, but she couldn¡¯t possibly care enough to send someone after him. Could she?


    Not that it mattered now.


    His eyes flicked past the enforcer, gauging the distance to the main settlement. It was too far. But staying here was certain death.


    Jabari tensed, muscles coiled, and took a cautious step backward. The enforcer noticed. His grin widened and-


    Without warning, the man lunged.


    He charged with the brute force of a rampaging bull, blade raised high.


    Jabari spun on his heel and ran. His legs burned as he pushed his body to its limits, desperate to put distance between himself and the relentless footsteps pounding behind him.


    But the enforcer was faster.


    Jabari had barely covered five metres when that familiar tingling sensation surged through his body again.


    His eyes widened in terror. It was happening again. He didn¡¯t understand it completely, but he could feel his Spirit warning him of impending danger.


    Jabari flung himself to the ground just in time, the enforcer¡¯s rusted blade hissing through the air above him. The metal screeched as it grazed a nearby rock, missing its intended target but leaving a searing line of pain across Jabari''s left cheek.


    Warm blood trickled down his face as he rolled to his feet, panting. His eyes locked onto the guard, who advanced with slow, methodical steps. That was when Jabari remembered the ability he¡¯d awakened.


    Without hesitation, he channelled his spirit to his brain, then directed it toward his eyes.


    The moment the mist-like energy flowed into his vision, the enforcer''s movements seemed to slow to half-speed. Each shift of muscle, each twitch of his opponent¡¯s blade arm became visible, allowing Jabari to read the attack patterns before they fully formed.


    But there was a catch.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Although the world around him appeared slower, his own body remained frustratingly sluggish. The power didn¡¯t make him faster ¨C it only heightened his perception. Still, that was enough.


    Jabari braced himself, dodging the next downward slash with a clumsy sidestep. The motion lacked grace, but it was effective. The enforcer snarled, growing more aggressive as Jabari ducked and weaved past strike after strike.


    Frustration contorted the guard¡¯s features. With a guttural growl, he feinted left before driving his fist into Jabari¡¯s stomach.


    The impact stole the air from Jabari¡¯s lungs. His body folded around the punch as he was launched backward, crashing into the thick trunk of a tree with a dull thud. Bark splintered beneath his weight. Pain exploded through his ribs as he slid to the ground, gasping for air.


    He forced himself upright, clutching his abdomen. The gates of the main settlement were visible in the distance, but his legs trembled with exhaustion. Running was no longer an option.


    ''I have to fight¡­


    Or I''ll die here.''


    Inayah¡¯s face appeared in his mind ¨C pale, fragile, lying alone on her bed, her strength ebbing away. If he died here, she would be left alone. She needed him.


    He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath to steady his resolve, and reached into his pocket. His fingers wrapped around the worn handle of his hunting knife.


    The weapon was rusted, its edge dulled from overuse, but it was all he had. The knife wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against someone like Heba or her guards ¨C but against this enforcer? Maybe, just maybe, it would give him a fighting chance.


    The guard slowed, eyeing the knife with mild amusement. "Do you really think that little toy will change how this ends?" he sneered, tapping the length of his metre-long sword against his thigh.


    Jabari didn¡¯t respond. His mind had already shifted into survival mode. The fear that had gripped his heart earlier melted away, replaced by cold, unyielding focus.


    ''I never thought I¡¯d have to fight one of the slum enforcers so soon,'' he thought, shifting into a cautious stance.


    What surprised him most wasn¡¯t the desperation of his situation ¨C it was the eerie calm that settled over him. His breathing slowed. His surroundings sharpened as his spirit-enhanced eyes tracked the guard''s every move.


    Knife in hand, Jabari surged forward.


    The enforcer''s lips twisted into a feral grin at the sight of the scrawny teenager charging toward him. He adjusted his grip, raised his sword high, and drove it down in a vicious thrust, aiming to skewer Jabari¡¯s skull.


    But Jabari saw it coming.


    Shifting his weight mid-stride, he twisted his body just enough for the blade to graze his shoulder instead of piercing his head. The sword sliced through flesh, and pain flared through his upper arm, but Jabari paid it no mind.


    Instead, he used the momentum of his dodge to swing his knife toward the guard¡¯s exposed neck.


    The enforcer¡¯s eyes widened in shock.


    Survival instincts kicked in. The man abandoned his attack, yanking his sword across his body to parry the rusted knife at the last possible second. Steel met steel with a jarring clang.


    Jabari staggered but didn¡¯t retreat. He gritted his teeth and lunged again.


    The enforcer slashed wildly, trying to force distance between them. Jabari twisted his torso, letting the blade bite into his ribs ¨C painful but not fatal. At the same time, he jabbed his knife toward the man''s abdomen.


    The enforcer scrambled back, blocking again with a desperate swing. His feet slipped in the dirt as panic seeped into his movements.


    Jabari¡¯s relentless attacks shattered the man¡¯s composure. The guard had size, reach, and strength, but Jabari¡¯s unpredictable, self-sacrificial tactics unnerved him. The boy wasn''t fighting to win. He was fighting to survive, and that made him dangerous.


    "Get back!" the enforcer roared in frustration, planting his boot squarely in Jabari''s chest.


    The kick sent Jabari flying backward. He hit the ground hard, coughing as his vision swam from the impact. His spirit-enhanced senses flickered under the strain, but he forced himself to stay alert.


    The enforcer stood several paces away, panting heavily. His face, which had initially worn a mask of amused superiority, was now contorted with wary disbelief.


    "This kid''s a damn lunatic," the man muttered to himself.


    Then his expression hardened.


    He tightened his grip on his sword and raised it above his head, grasping the hilt with both hands. "Alright, brat. Playtime''s over."


    With a guttural roar, the enforcer charged, blade poised to cleave Jabari in two.


    Jabari, chest heaving, gripped his knife tighter and braced himself for the next collision.


    Even before the enforcer¡¯s sword descended, Jabari felt the shift.


    This strike was different.


    The blade tore through the air with a speed and weight that dwarfed the previous attacks. Even with his spirit-enhanced vision, Jabari struggled to track the trajectory. His instincts screamed in warning ¨C he couldn¡¯t fully evade this one.


    There wasn¡¯t enough time to counter either. If he tried, he¡¯d die.


    Instead, he braced himself and shifted his body just enough to avoid a fatal blow.


    The blade bit into his chest with a sickening sound. Pain lanced through his torso as a deep, crimson line opened from his shoulder to his ribs. Blood soaked his shirt and dripped to the ground. The wound burned with each breath, but Jabari gritted his teeth and forced the agony into the background. He couldn¡¯t afford to falter now.


    The enforcer pressed the attack, hacking and slashing with relentless ferocity. Jabari dodged each strike by a hair¡¯s breadth, twisting and contorting his body to avoid vital areas. His skin was soon marred by dozens of shallow cuts. Blood coated his arms, legs, and torso, but the injuries ¨C while painful ¨C weren¡¯t crippling.


    To an outsider, he looked like a walking corpse. But Jabari knew appearances were deceiving.


    "JUST DIEEE!" the enforcer bellowed, voice raw with rage.


    The man lunged forward, raising his sword high and driving it down with all his strength. The blow whistled through the air, aimed directly at Jabari¡¯s head.


    With no other option, Jabari jumped backward, gripping his knife with both hands to block the descending strike.


    CLANG!


    The impact reverberated through his arms. His knees buckled, and the force sent him stumbling several steps backward. His forearms throbbed from the strain, and the knife trembled in his numb fingers.


    The enforcer sneered and surged forward, preparing to finish the job. But as he raised his weapon, his eyes widened in confusion.


    Jabari had turned and bolted.


    "GET BACK HERE!" the man roared, launching into pursuit.


    He''d barely taken two steps when a glint of metal flashed through the air toward his face.


    By the time his brain registered the threat, it was too late.


    THUNK!


    The rusted knife embedded itself in his chest, just inches from his heart. The enforcer¡¯s sword slipped from his grasp as his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto his back, gasping for air as blood pooled beneath him.


    Jabari skidded to a halt and turned around, panting heavily. His heart raced as he watched the enforcer writhe on the ground. Blood leaked from the man''s mouth as he clutched the handle protruding from his chest.


    Jabari didn¡¯t hesitate. He sprinted back to the fallen man and snatched the sword from the dirt. The weapon was heavier than his knife, its edge jagged and uneven, but it would do.


    He stood over the enforcer, the sword raised high. His arms shook from exertion, and his chest burned with every breath, but his grip didn¡¯t waver.


    The enforcer coughed, crimson staining his lips. His eyes ¨C wild and desperate ¨C locked onto Jabari¡¯s.


    "Ple¡­


    Please..." he rasped. "I¡¯m begging you¡­


    Don¡¯t kill me."


    Jabari¡¯s face remained impassive.


    He knew the truth: if their positions were reversed, this man wouldn''t offer mercy. He wouldn¡¯t pause. Wouldn''t hesitate. Jabari would already be dead.


    His fingers tightened around the sword hilt. The blade hovered above the man''s neck, trembling slightly as Jabari prepared to deliver the killing blow.


    But then, unbidden, a memory surfaced.


    The scene of the crimson-haired breathing his last breath replayed in his mind. The sorrow he felt as his life slipped away. The pain Jabari was forced to endure every night as a consequence.


    All of it made his stomach churn.


    "Fuck it!" Jabari growled, his voice raw with frustration. He let the sword fall from his hands with a heavy clang.


    The enforcer sagged with relief, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.


    Jabari turned away, fists clenched, and started walking. His legs felt like lead, and his body screamed for rest, but he refused to stop.


    Only time would tell if his decision to spare the enforcer was a mistake, but what he did know was that, despite the odds, he had survived. And surviving was what he would continue to do. For Inayah. For himself. For their future!

 Book 1: Chapter 16 – Act of Selflessness

    Realising he couldn¡¯t go through with it, Jabari turned away from the fallen enforcer. His legs trembled beneath him, and his vision blurred at the edges, but he forced himself forward. The only thing keeping him upright was the dwindling surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins ¨C a fragile lifeline against the blood loss that sapped his strength with every step.


    He had barely taken three strides when the familiar prickling sensation returned, sharp and undeniable. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.


    This time, however, he knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to react in time.


    A cold dread seized him. He didn¡¯t know who or what was behind him, but at that moment, he swore he could feel the icy kiss of death¡¯s scythe grazing his neck.


    His body tensed instinctively ¨C a futile, last-ditch effort to protect himself from the inevitable.


    However, the killing blow never came. Instead, the metallic clang of colliding blades shattered the oppressive silence.


    Jabari twisted around, eyes wide. Standing before him was Lateef ¨C Heba''s scimitar-wielding guard ¨C his curved blade effortlessly holding back the strike of another assailant.


    Jabari''s heart skipped a beat as he recognised the attacker.


    It was the guard who had led them through the main settlement the day of the aptitude assessment.


    "My lord! You''re here! Please save me!" the enforcer on the ground gasped, clutching his chest as he stared desperately at his would-be saviour.


    The guard didn¡¯t even spare him a glance. His full attention was locked on Lateef, eyes narrowing as his blade trembled against the older warrior¡¯s calm, unyielding defence.


    "It''s you?" Jabari''s voice cracked with disbelief. "You¡¯re the other person trying to kill me?!"


    The guard didn¡¯t respond. His jaw clenched as he shifted his stance, trying to push Lateef back. But no matter how much force he applied, the scimitar remained steadfast.


    ''I swung with everything I had...


    Both hands¡­


    Full power...'' the guard thought, panic creeping into his chest. ''And he blocked me with one hand...


    Effortlessly.''


    Swallowing hard, he took a cautious step back, forcing a smile. "L-let¡¯s not be hasty here," he said, adopting a conciliatory tone. "This isn¡¯t personal. If you let me kill the brat who offended my mother, I promise the Umeme Tribe will reward you handsomely."


    Lateef¡¯s expression remained the picture of indifference. "Scram."


    The single word, spoken with casual indifference, carried more weight than any threat.


    The guard¡¯s face flushed with anger. The veins at his temple pulsed as he fought to keep his composure. "Surely we can talk about this. I mean, offending my mother is one thing ¨C but offending the Umeme Tribe? I can¡¯t imagine you''d risk that for some slum rat-"


    Lateef moved.


    Jabari¡¯s enhanced eyes tried to follow the motion, but the blade blurred into nothingness. One second, the scimitar was locked against the guard¡¯s weapon; the next, it was sliding back into its sheath with a whisper-soft click.


    The guard froze mid-sentence.


    A thin red line appeared across his throat. His eyes bulged in confusion. His sword snapped in two, the broken tip clattering to the ground. A heartbeat later, his head separated from his shoulders and rolled across the dirt. His body crumpled lifelessly beside it.


    "Even if your Tribe¡¯s Patriarch were standing here," Lateef muttered, stepping over the corpse without a second glance, "the result would¡¯ve been the same."


    Jabari swayed on his feet, eyes locked on the blood pooling beneath the guard¡¯s remains. His breath caught in his throat. Lateef¡¯s presence had saved him, but the realisation of just how close he''d come to death left him dizzy.


    The scimitar-wielding warrior strode toward him and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You did well," Lateef said simply.


    The words barely registered. The last threads of adrenaline slipped from Jabari¡¯s body, and the world tilted around him. His knees buckled. Lateef caught him effortlessly, cradling the unconscious boy in one arm as though he weighed nothing.


    The stoic guard gazed down at Jabari, surprise flashing briefly across his normally impassive face.


    "It¡¯s hard to believe this boy grew up in a slum with no formal training," Lateef murmured to himself as he recalled the fight he''d observed from the shadows.


    Jabari¡¯s movements had been raw and unrefined, but his reactions were exceptional. The speed with which he adjusted his positioning to avoid fatal strikes was beyond what Lateef expected from someone his age. His instinct to endure injury if it meant gaining the upper hand revealed a level of resolve many seasoned warriors lacked.


    But what stood out most was his willpower.


    Lateef was no stranger to the battlefield. He''d seen grown men break at the prospect of injury or death. Yet this boy, despite his inexperience, had consciously accepted wounds to stay in the fight. It was a rare, invaluable trait.


    ''The only mistake he made was leaving his opponent alive,'' Lateef thought, his gaze flicking briefly toward the wounded enforcer sprawled in the dirt. ''But that¡¯s something he¡¯ll learn in time.''


    Adjusting Jabari¡¯s weight on his shoulder, Lateef turned and walked toward the settlement, leaving the surviving enforcer behind without a second thought.


    ''Your instincts were right again, Your Highness,¡¯ Lateef mused as he vanished into the shadows.


    Behind him, the blood-soaked path lay silent ¨C except for the faint, laboured breathing of the man Jabari had spared.


    ¡­


    "Huh... where am I?" Jabari mumbled as he stirred awake, blinking away the grogginess clouding his mind. His eyes roamed the unfamiliar space, trying to make sense of his surroundings.


    The last memory he recalled was Lateef ¨C his blade a silver blur ¨C decapitating the guard with terrifying ease. Everything about that moment had left Jabari shaken: the sheer speed of the strike, the warrior¡¯s cold indifference, and, above all, the words he¡¯d uttered afterward.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Even if it were your Tribe''s Patriarch stood here, it''d end the same way.¡±


    That was when Jabari grasped the truth: power was everything. With enough strength, the impossible became possible.


    "You''re really taking advantage of your newfound ability to sleep, aren¡¯t you?" Heba¡¯s familiar, honeyed voice drifted through the air, pulling his attention toward her.


    Jabari turned his head to find her sitting beside the bed, an amused smile playing on her lips.


    "How long have I been out this time?" he asked, ignoring her teasing as he stroked Inayah¡¯s soft hair. His little sister lay curled up beside him, breathing peacefully. "And where exactly are we?"


    He glanced around. The room, though compact, was lined with polished wood, and the faint, rhythmic creaking beneath him suggested movement.


    "A little over three days," Heba replied. "And I wouldn¡¯t try sitting up just yet-"


    Jabari grunted in pain as he attempted to rise, the sharp sting in his torso forcing him back onto the mattress.


    "... yeah, that." Heba shook her head with a sigh. "Your injuries looked worse than they were, but you still won¡¯t be moving around properly for a few more days."


    "Will I be okay for the assessment?" Jabari asked, voice tight with urgency.


    Heba¡¯s gaze softened slightly. "It took a lot out of me, using so many healing spells and a fair share of expensive drugs," she admitted. "But if you follow my instructions and rest, you¡¯ll be good as new by the time the selection starts."


    "Spells?" Jabari''s eyes widened. "You¡¯re a mage too?"


    Heba chuckled softly. "You didn¡¯t think Aten was the only one, did you?" She raised her hand, and a gentle azure light shimmered around her slender fingers. The glow pulsed with a soothing warmth that Jabari could almost feel even without touching it.


    "There are spells for healing as well?" Jabari asked, unable to hide his awe as he stared at her radiant hand.


    "Magic isn¡¯t so one-dimensional," Heba replied, the corners of her lips lifting with pride. "It¡¯s not all fireballs and lightning strikes. There are plenty of supportive applications ¨C healing, enhancements, detection. Healing magic just happens to be my speciality."


    Jabari nodded slowly, his admiration genuine. She had every right to be proud; after all, without her skills, he might not have survived.


    His gaze dropped to Inayah¡¯s peaceful face. Once reassured that she was sleeping soundly, he shifted his attention back to Heba.


    "Was Lateef following me the entire time when I went back to the slums?" he asked.


    Heba¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but she gave a slight nod.


    Jabari¡¯s jaw tightened. "Why didn¡¯t he help when the enforcer first cornered me? I could¡¯ve died!"


    "I instructed him to protect you," Heba said calmly. "But Lateef said he needed to see if you were worth my trust."


    Jabari¡¯s breath caught. "What if I couldn¡¯t defeat the enforcer?"


    "Then he likely would¡¯ve watched you die." Heba¡¯s tone was devoid of sympathy. "And Inayah would¡¯ve been left brotherless."


    Jabari¡¯s fists clenched beneath the blanket. His heart pounded in his chest as a surge of anger shot through him. "I thought we were on the same side," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought-"


    "Don''t misunderstand," Heba cut in coldly, her eyes hardening in a way Jabari had never seen before. "We¡¯re not your babysitters."


    The warmth that usually radiated from her vanished, replaced by an icy detachment that sent a chill down his spine.


    "I promised to care for Inayah for the next two years," she continued, her voice razor-sharp. "And I will. Whether you succeed in finding a cure or die trying doesn¡¯t change that."


    Jabari swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. He met her gaze with the same cold resolve she projected. "So, if I were to die tomorrow, you promise to make sure she lives the rest of her life as comfortably as possible?"


    "You have my word."


    He studied her face, searching for the slightest crack, the faintest flicker of insincerity. Yet, for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite explain, he believed her.


    He turned back to Inayah and brushed a stray curl from her forehead. His expression softened momentarily before hardening into steel. "My little sister is my pride and joy.


    If I ever find out you¡¯ve harmed her, I don¡¯t care what Tribe you come from or who your parents are." His hand didn¡¯t stop its gentle stroking, but his voice dipped into a lethal calm. "I promise you a fate far worse than death."


    The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Heba¡¯s breath caught for half a second as the hairs on her neck stood on end. She didn¡¯t sense bravado in his words, only an unyielding, terrifying sincerity.


    Then, just as easily as it had vanished, her warm, melodic tone returned. "Now, now...


    There¡¯s no need for such hostility," she said, offering a serene smile. "Especially after I helped you get rid of those nasty nightmares."


    The tension shattered like fragile glass beneath the weight of her effortless charm.


    Jabari didn¡¯t respond. He just kept stroking Inayah¡¯s hair while his mind raced, caught between the warmth of Heba¡¯s words and the cold truth lurking beneath them.


    It was then that Jabari remembered the burning questions he still hadn¡¯t had answered ¨C how she seemed to know about the consequences of failing to endure the pain from getting over his nightmares. "That day in the courtyard, how di-¡±


    Before he could finish, Inayah stirred beside him. Her eyes fluttered open, and just like that, the moment was lost.


    Jabari¡¯s gaze flicked to Heba. She responded with an innocent shrug and a helpless smile, as though Inayah¡¯s sudden awakening had nothing to do with her.


    He had been watching her closely. He hadn¡¯t seen her do anything particular. Still, it was too much of a coincidence. If he hadn¡¯t known better, he would¡¯ve sworn she¡¯d woken Inayah on purpose to avoid answering his question.


    The next forty-eight hours passed much the same way: Jabari resting in the back of the carriage with Heba and Inayah as Lateef periodically left to hunt for food. But despite his repeated efforts, Jabari never managed to get another private moment with Heba.


    On the surface, it looked like sheer bad luck. Every time she sat alone, Jabari would seize the opportunity to approach her, only for something to get in the way. If it wasn¡¯t Inayah waking, it was Aten or Lateef wandering over to ask her a question. Another time, a wild animal startled the horses, only to be swiftly dispatched by the guards.


    Coincidences, maybe. But Jabari didn¡¯t buy it.


    ''She¡¯s definitely doing this on purpose,'' he thought grimly.


    With his curiosity stonewalled, Jabari devoted his free time to two things: spending time with Inayah when she was awake and practising with his spirit when she was asleep.


    He quickly discovered several crucial details about his newfound ability.


    When channelling his spirit into his brain alone, his thought-processing speed doubled, allowing him to think faster and react more instinctively. He could maintain that state for just over an hour before feeling completely drained. For now, that was more than enough.


    Enhancing one of his senses ¨C sight, hearing, touch, taste, or smell ¨C yielded similar results. Whichever sense he focused on became twice as sharp, but the strain was far greater. After about fifteen to twenty minutes, the energy would sputter out, leaving him mentally and physically exhausted.


    The one thing he never dared to attempt again was distributing his spirit across all five senses simultaneously. The last time he''d tried that, the excruciating pain had nearly killed him. He decided he would only revisit that technique once his control improved.


    Another unexpected discovery came when he enhanced his brain: his memories sharpened to near-perfect clarity ¨C at least, the memories from the past ten years. Events he¡¯d once recalled in fragments suddenly unfolded like vivid scenes from a storybook. But anything before that remained a hazy blur.


    His earliest memory was still the day he found Inayah. That moment didn¡¯t require his spirit to recall; it had been etched into his soul from the very start.


    He had been wandering through the slums that day, lost in the thick fog of his own misery. The nightmares had been relentless, leaving him numb and disconnected from the world around him. He couldn''t remember how long he¡¯d walked, only that the sharp, desperate cries of a baby had shattered his daze.


    Jabari wasn¡¯t the only one who heard the cries. Others passed by with little more than a disinterested glance. The slums weren''t a place where people extended compassion without reason. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, that sound ¨C the raw anguish of that tiny, helpless voice ¨C drew him in.


    He followed the sound to a small, rickety wooden hut with walls barely held together by splintered planks and old rope. Inside, he found her: a tiny, wriggling baby swaddled in a thin scrap of cloth, her cheeks streaked with tears.


    Beside her sat a woman slumped against a log, her vacant eyes staring into nothing. Her breast was exposed, positioned near the infant''s mouth, though there was no milk to give.


    Jabari had frozen in place. It was the first time he¡¯d seen a dead body. He hadn''t known what death was back then, only that the woman¡¯s skin was cold, and she wouldn¡¯t wake up.


    Years later, he came to understand what had happened. The woman had likely died of malnutrition, sacrificing her own nourishment in a futile attempt to feed her child.


    That image haunted Jabari. The mother¡¯s selflessness, her silent sacrifice, became an anchor during his darkest moments. Whenever he felt the pull of despair, when the crushing weight of the nightmares made him consider giving up, that memory resurfaced: the sight of a mother who gave her life for her child without hesitation.


    He had no idea who she was, but her act of love, etched into that moment of sacrifice, became the fire that fuelled his resolve.


    Whenever he doubted himself, whenever the path ahead seemed insurmountable, he would think of that day. And


    For Inayah. For the mother who had entrusted her to the world with her dying breath. For the future he swore to build, no matter the cost, he would push forward.

 Book 1: Chapter 17 – Seed of Belief

    After nearly five days, the group finally arrived at West Beast City. Jabari had learned from Heba that it was a vibrant, bustling city governed and protected by the Western Branch of the Beast-Warrior Institute, making it a beacon of safety and opportunity in the region.


    Despite her detailed descriptions, though, Jabari and Inayah couldn''t conceal their astonishment as they gazed out of the carriage window. The city stretched before them like a vision from a dream ¨C majestic and teeming with life.


    They had once believed the main settlement of the Umeme Tribe to be impressive, but compared to West Beast City, it seemed no better than a run-down village. The streets were lined with towering, meticulously designed buildings, each no less than three stories high, their exteriors adorned with intricate carvings of all shapes, sizes, and designs.


    The crowd was a constant, restless tide of people ¨C merchants hawking rare goods, warriors clad in ornate armour, and even Mages in flowing robes that shimmered with arcane symbols. Heba pointed out the countless shops that offered everything from enchanted weapons to rare medicinal herbs.


    "All right, let''s split up here," Heba announced, her tone brisk and efficient. "Inayah, Aten, and I will get us checked into the Beast Paradise Inn. Jabari, you go with Lateef to sign up for the Beast-Warrior Trials. Find us at the inn when you''re done."


    Before Jabari could respond, she ushered Inayah and Aten away, leaving him standing beside Lateef. The older warrior said nothing, turning on his heel and walking off without so much as a glance back.


    "I guess I''ll just follow you then," Jabari muttered under his breath, falling into step behind him. As he trailed Lateef through the bustling streets, his mind drifted back to the day he had killed the Umeme Tribe guard.


    He hadn''t forgotten the raw power that guard had possessed ¨C how easily he should have been able to end Jabari''s life. And yet, Lateef had dispatched that same opponent as though swatting a fly.


    The gulf between them was vast, like the chasm between the heavens and the earth.


    ''One day, I''m going to be that strong,'' Jabari vowed, his eyes fixed on Lateef''s broad back.


    "We''re here," Lateef''s voice jolted him from his thoughts.


    Jabari looked up to find themselves standing at the rear of a long, winding queue of participants. Each group had a child around his age, the youngest no older than ten.


    "Out of the way! Shura Tribe coming through!"


    The sharp command drew everyone''s attention. Jabari turned to see five warriors in gleaming golden armour, sabres at their sides, parting the crowd with sheer presence. Behind them strode seven children dressed in black robes adorned with yellow and green tribal patterns.


    "The Shura Tribe is another of the Six Great Tribes," Lateef explained, his tone neutral. "They''re widely thought of as the strongest of the six."


    Jabari''s gaze swept over the group, three of whom stood out immediately.


    The first was a striking, dark-skinned girl with long braids cascading down her back. She walked with confident ease, drawing more than a few admiring glances from the boys around her.


    Next was a boy, perhaps twelve, with short black hair cleanly faded at the sides. His posture oozed arrogance; his chin tilted upward as though the very air was beneath him. The others in his group gave him a wide berth, their discomfort palpable.


    But it was the last figure who captured Jabari''s attention ¨C a boy about his age, with shaggy black hair and deep brown eyes that radiated disinterest. His gaze passed over the bustling surroundings as though everything was a dull, unremarkable blur.


    "Is he a Mage?" Jabari asked, nodding toward the robed figure walking beside the children.


    "Yeah. And the other four adults are all Beast-Warriors," Lateef replied, already moving toward the queue.


    The Shura Tribe¡¯s presence had left a clear path through the crowd. Lateef took advantage of it, walking directly behind them.


    "Hey! No cutting-"


    "Lateef Osman, Beast-Warrior of the Khaldun Tribe," Lateef stated coldly, not bothering to look at the man who had spoken.


    The would-be protestor blanched and melted back into the crowd, his indignation evaporating into fear.


    "Hurry up," Lateef ordered.


    Jabari hurried after Lateef, his eyes fixed on the man''s broad back with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "You''re really a Beast-Warrior?"


    "You thought they''d leave the Princess of one of the Six Great Tribes in the hands of an ordinary warrior?" Lateef replied, his tone cool, as if the answer were self-evident.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Jabari had suspected it ever since he''d learned about the path of the Beast-Warrior ¨C especially after witnessing Lateef''s terrifying efficiency when he''d killed the Umeme Tribe guard. But hearing the man''s confirmation made it all the more real.


    He was walking alongside the very kind of warrior he aspired to become.


    As they wove through the crowd toward the front of the queue, Jabari noticed the looks they were getting ¨C expressions of envy, curiosity, and even awe. It was a strange sensation. Growing up in the slums, he''d only ever been met with disdain or indifference. Now, people looked at him as though he were someone worth noticing.


    But instead of pride, an uncomfortable tightness settled in his chest. He would have much preferred to go unnoticed, yet Lateef showed no sign of concern for his unease.


    At last, they reached the front of the line, where a man dressed in sleek grey robes embroidered with yellow tribal patterns greeted them with a wide smile. His form-fitting tunic highlighted a muscular build, while loose, knitted harem pants swayed with his movements.


    Jabari''s gaze landed on the moment the two men clasped hands. Having never seen grown men holding hands before, his brow furrowed in confusion as he listened to their exchange.


    "Lateef, my friend! It''s been too long since our days at the institute," the man said, his deep voice warm and familiar. "How have you been?"


    "Kwame." Lateef inclined his head slightly, the corners of his mouth softening into what might have passed for a smile. "I''m well, thank you. I''d stay and catch up, but I''ve been tasked by my Princess to get this one registered."


    Kwame''s sharp eyes shifted to Jabari, his curiosity deepening the longer he looked. "And who might this be?"


    "Jabari," Lateef answered, his voice steady. "A child from the Khaldun Tribe''s slums."


    Understanding flickered across Kwame''s face. Jabari''s malnourished appearance and wiry frame were hardly consistent with what one would expect from a child of one of the Great Tribes. But that made his presence here all the more intriguing.


    "A slum child catching the eye of your Princess?" Kwame mused, his lips curving into an encouraging smile. "That¡¯s no small feat. I look forward to seeing how you perform, kid."


    Jabari accepted the token Kwame handed him, staring at the solid gold medallion in his palm. The surface was engraved with elegant, swirling letters that meant nothing to him. His lack of education left him unable to decipher the inscription, but he remembered Kwame''s explanation well enough: on the morning of the Trials, he''d need to hand it over along with his paperwork to be granted entry.


    He followed Lateef through the bustling streets toward the inn, his mind preoccupied with the token''s weight and what it represented.


    "Is there anything you can tell me about the Trials?" he asked, glancing up at the stoic warrior.


    "My Trials were a long time ago," Lateef answered without looking back, "but even after all this time, not much has changed. In total, there are five individual tests spread over three days. Each test is graded on a scale from one to five stars. Your final score is based on the sum of those stars.


    Although all of the tests are graded, only the fifth and final test is pass or fail.¡±


    "The fifth test?" Jabari prompted.


    "The Princess already told you, to become a Beast-Warrior, ultimately, the only thing that truly matters is your willpower, that¡¯s precisely what the fifth round tests. As long as you pass that, you will officially be admitted into the Beast-Warrior Institute as a student. If you fail, you don¡¯t; it¡¯s that simple!¡±


    Jabari absorbed the information in silence. Lateef¡¯s explanation had put any residual worries to bed ¨C if there was anything Jabari was confident about, it was his willpower!


    Just as his worries about the trials lessened, a new question popped into his mind. Without much thought, he couldn¡¯t help but blurt it out. "Why were you and your friend holding hands?"


    Lateef''s steps faltered for a fraction of a second. His jaw tightened as the innocent question sliced through his usual composure.


    "We weren''t holding hands," Lateef said, voice strained. "It was a handshake. It''s a greeting ¨C a sign of mutual respect between two people."


    Jabari blinked, tilting his head. "It still looked like you were holding hands," he said with a shrug. "But okay."


    Lateef exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to rub his temples. The trials had nothing to do with him, nor had they even started yet, and somehow, he already felt tested.


    Before Lateef could respond, a familiar voice broke through the bustling street.


    "There you are! We were just about to come looking for you ¨C little Yah-Yah couldn¡¯t wait any longer," Heba called out, a teasing smile on her lips as she approached with Inayah and Aten in tow.


    Inayah wasted no time, launching herself into Jabari¡¯s arms.


    "How was it? Are you gonna be a Beast-Warrior now?" she asked, her wide eyes brimming with curiosity as she gazed up at her brother.


    "Not quite yet," Jabari replied with a soft chuckle, ruffling her hair. "I still have to pass the Trials first."


    "Let¡¯s head inside," Heba said, gesturing toward the luxurious inn behind her. "You two can talk all you want once we''re settled."


    Jabari followed the others through the ornate double doors of the Beast Paradise Inn. The marble floors gleamed beneath their feet, reflecting the golden glow of enchanted lanterns suspended from the ceiling. Plush furniture and rich tapestries gave the space an air of casual opulence that felt worlds away from the slums they¡¯d once called home.


    The rest of the day passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. Jabari spent most of it with Inayah, describing everything he''d seen on his walk through the city ¨C the towering buildings, the crowds of hopefuls waiting to register, and the Shura Tribe¡¯s intimidating procession.


    Inayah hung on his every word, her eyes sparkling as she listened. But as Jabari recounted Lateef¡¯s explanation of the Trials, she noticed something change. The excitement that had lit his face began to fade, replaced by a shadow of something far heavier.


    "Yah-Yah..." Jabari¡¯s voice dropped, his expression tightening with resolve. He squeezed her hand gently. "Just give me time. I swear, I will find a way to heal you before time runs out!"


    Inayah¡¯s breath caught in her throat. She knew her brother was doing all of this for her sake. And though she trusted Jabari with all her heart, a part of her couldn¡¯t believe it was possible.


    Heba had shared everything with her: the enormity of the task Jabari was trying to accomplish, the sheer impossibility of it. Inayah had come to accept that her illness might never be cured. And she feared for Jabari ¨C feared that his determination would only lead to heartbreak.


    But then she met his gaze. His eyes burned with a conviction so fierce, so unyielding, that something stirred deep within her ¨C a tiny flicker of hope, hesitant but undeniable.


    "Come on," Jabari said, standing abruptly. "We need to get some rest. Tomorrow¡¯s the first day of the Trials."


    Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving Inayah sitting there, her heart a swirling mixture of fear, guilt, and that stubborn, fragile seed of belief.

 Book 1: Chapter 18 – Start of the Trials

    The next morning, Heba led the group through the bustling streets toward the heart of the city. She wore a plain, oversized robe with the hood pulled low over her face, her identity carefully concealed.


    When they arrived at the arena, Jabari and Inayah stopped in their tracks, awestruck. The structure loomed before them like a colossal stone titan ¨C a vast ovoid of stone, concrete, and tuff that stretched over three hundred metres into the sky. Its diameter spanned nearly five kilometres, dominating the skyline. Yet, what truly stunned them was the sheer number of people.


    Thousands thronged the streets, forming serpentine queues that snaked around the arena. More arrived with each passing second, the air alive with the hum of excitement.


    "This is the city¡¯s biggest day of the year," Heba explained, her eyes glinting beneath her hood as she took in their astonishment. "People come from far and wide to witness the trials. It¡¯s their chance to see who might shape the future."


    Jabari nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the crowd. It was hard to imagine so many strangers gathering to watch a bunch of children attempting various tests.


    Heba pointed toward a smaller line on the arena''s eastern side. "We¡¯ll have to queue here with the spectators, but as a participant, you can enter there."


    Jabari followed her finger and saw a line composed entirely of youths, their faces a mixture of nerves and determination.


    "Oh, and Jabari..." Heba placed a hand on his shoulder, her tone softening. "Good luck."


    "Thank you," Jabari said before turning toward Inayah. "What about you? Aren¡¯t you going to wish me luck?"


    Inayah remained uncharacteristically quiet. Since the previous night, she¡¯d been locked in a silent battle with herself. Logic told her that finding a cure for her condition was impossible. She should be hoping Jabari found another dream to live for rather than clinging to her doomed existence. And yet¡­


    She kept seeing that look in his eyes ¨C that unyielding certainty.


    Hope stirred in her chest against her will. It terrified her ¨C not just because she feared the disappointment if he failed, but because she feared what he might sacrifice to succeed.


    Her gaze dropped to the ground. Her fists trembled. Words failed her ¨C a rare occurrence for her.


    Jabari, who knew his sister¡¯s heart as well as his own, stepped forward and wrapped her in a firm embrace. "Just watch me," he whispered. "I''ll prove to you that it''s okay to believe."


    Her breath caught, but before she could respond, he released her and strode toward the participants'' queue.


    Jabari joined the line of hundreds of youths ¨C voices constantly swirling around him.


    "Did you hear? Danso Musa is taking the trials this year."


    "Danso Musa? You mean the Musa Patriarch¡¯s only son?"


    "Yeah, that¡¯s him."


    "That tribe''s no joke. The Musa Tribe''s one of the few ordinary tribes said to faintly rival the Big Six. If he¡¯s here, he¡¯s guaranteed to pass."


    "He¡¯s not the only one we need to watch out for. I heard Jamal Marley from the Shura Tribe is competing too."


    "Marley...


    As in Robert Marley? One of the Shura Tribe¡¯s Nine Great Warriors?"


    "His grandson. Word is he¡¯s a prodigy, just like his grandfather."


    Jabari¡¯s ears pricked at the names. Still, even with all the rumours, mention of their presence didn¡¯t unnerve him. Instead, it ignited something within.


    "If we¡¯re up against monsters like that, what chance do we have?" one boy muttered.


    "You¡¯re forgetting," someone else said. "There¡¯s no limit to how many people can pass. As long as you pass the final test, you¡¯ll make it."


    "That¡¯s true, but still¡­


    I heard more than three hundred kids are entering this year. And yet, fewer than half are expected to pass."


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Next!"


    Jabari snapped out of his thoughts to find himself standing at the front of the line. Taking a deep breath, he strode forward.


    Jabari approached the man clad in the same grey uniform as Lateef¡¯s friend from the previous day. Handing over his token and paperwork, Jabari¡¯s expression remained neutral.


    The man glanced at the documents. "Jabari, is it? You''re a long way from the Khaldun Tribe. Why not go to North Beast City and participate in their Beast-Warrior Trials instead?"


    Jabari responded just as Heba had instructed. "I got lost after leaving the slums and ended up running into some merchants who brought me here."


    The man''s brow furrowed slightly, but he gave a slight nod. "Ah, I see. Well, go through those doors and wait with the others. Looks like you''re the last one, so it won¡¯t be long before we get started."


    "Thank you," Jabari said politely. As he walked toward the indicated entrance, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder, ''Is it only the Umeme Tribe that looks down on slum residents?''


    Stepping through the heavy wooden doors, Jabari froze mid-stride, his mouth falling slightly open. The arena stretched out before him like something from a legend. The ground beneath his feet was compacted earth, but at the centre stood an enormous metal platform ¨C two hundred metres long and a hundred metres wide ¨C lined with strange instruments he didn¡¯t recognise.


    The arena itself was circular, with a diameter of nearly a kilometre. Rising in tiers around the battlefield were stands packed with spectators.


    ''There have to be at least twenty thousand people here,'' Jabari thought, his eyes darting over the sea of faces as he futilely searched for Inayah and the others.


    "Welcome, boys and girls, to the Western Branch of the Beast-Warrior Institute¡¯s Annual Beast-Warrior Trials!"


    The voice boomed through the arena like a thunderclap, snapping Jabari''s attention toward the speaker. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on a raised platform beside the central stage, his dark skin gleaming under the morning sun. He held a small metallic device in one hand.


    "My name is Kwame, and I¡¯ll be the lead Invigilator for this year¡¯s trials."


    Jabari looked up to find four colossal screens, each suspended high above the arena and facing a different section of the stands. On them was a magnified image of Kwame¡¯s confident smile as he addressed the participants.


    ''This is unreal!'' Jabari marvelled, having never seen anything like it.


    Kwame''s smile faded into a more serious expression. "As most of you know, the trials consist of five distinct tests. The first four are more like assessments than traditional tests ¨C tools to gauge your current abilities. Only the final test determines whether you pass or fail."


    The crowd hummed with quiet anticipation as the Invigilator continued.


    "Your performance in each of the first four tests will earn you a score out of five. One being the lowest, five the highest. Should you pass the final test, these scores will determine the benefits and resources you''ll receive when you officially join the Institute."


    Jabari glanced around. Most of the other participants appeared unfazed, likely already familiar with the process. Yet, in the far corner of the arena, a small group of around twenty children stood huddled together.


    Their eyes remained fixed on Kwame, hanging onto every word he spoke. Their clothes were threadbare and patched in places, and their bodies were thin and wiry ¨C bones pressing against skin that hadn''t seen proper nourishment in years.


    Jabari¡¯s heart clenched. He recognised that guarded posture, the wary eyes scanning the crowd for hidden threats.


    ''They''re from the slums as well,'' he concluded.


    Jabari¡¯s gaze shifted from the small group of slum-born children huddled in the corner to the other trialists.


    The looks of disdain directed at them from the other participants were unmistakable ¨C sneers, upturned noses, and condescending whispers. The slum children, in turn, kept their eyes glued to the ground, shoulders hunched, as though simply existing in this space was a crime.


    Jabari recognised that fear, that deeply ingrained sense of inferiority. It was woven into them from birth ¨C a constant reminder that no matter how hard they fought, they would never measure up to the children from the main settlements.


    But the fact that they had made it here told a different story. He knew firsthand how perilous the journey from the slums could be. His own group had only survived because of a genuine Beast-Warrior and two Mages accompanying them. Without that protection, he wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance.


    He could only imagine what these children had endured to reach this moment. Wild animals, harsh terrain, human predators ¨C they had likely faced it all, likely losing no small amount of companions along the way.


    ''They''re already stronger than these others realise,'' Jabari thought. ''If this were a test of will alone, these kids would leave most others in the dust.''


    Though he couldn¡¯t help them directly, a sense of kinship stirred within him. He silently prayed they would pass the trials and claim the futures they fought so hard to reach.


    "Now that we''ve covered the basics, let¡¯s move on to the first test: a test of pure strength," Kwame announced, drawing everyone''s attention back to the centre stage. He gestured toward a row of gleaming spherical rocks arranged in ascending order.


    "Here''s how it works: each of you will be called up individually to lift these weights, starting from the lightest on the left and moving to the right. Each weight is five kilograms heavier than the previous one, starting at forty and going all the way up to three hundred."


    Murmurs rippled through the participants, some eyes widening with disbelief at the upper limit.


    Kwame smiled faintly, as if amused by their reactions. "The scoring is as follows:


    Lifting 50 kilograms or less earns you one star.


    55 to 75 kilograms: two stars.


    80 to 100 kilograms: three stars.


    105 to 125 kilograms: four stars.


    And finally, lifting 130 kilograms or more will earn you a full five stars."


    He let that sink in before consulting the list in his hand. "First up: Rohan of the Musa Tribe, age 14."


    A tall, muscular boy stepped forward, his chest puffed out with confidence. The crowd immediately buzzed with interest. The Musa Tribe was known for their physical prowess, and Rohan looked eager to prove he lived up to the reputation.


    Jabari''s eyes narrowed slightly. This was it ¨C the first glimpse of the calibre of competition he¡¯d be facing.

 Book 1: Chapter 19 – A Gem

    The boy who stepped onto the stage was visibly nervous. His eyes darted toward the stands, where thousands of spectators watched him with rapt attention. His hands trembled at his sides, his breathing shallow.


    "Try to focus on the task at hand," Kwame said gently, placing a reassuring hand on the boy''s shoulder and guiding him toward the first weight. "We''ll start with this 40-kilogram stone. Lift each one in turn until you can''t go on. You''re allowed two failed attempts in total, after your third, that¡¯s you done."


    Rohan gave a stiff nod and bent over the first weight. Despite his anxiety, he hoisted it with relative ease.


    With each successful lift, his confidence grew. By the time he reached the 70-kilogram mark, his posture had shifted, his movements more assured. The crowd murmured approvingly as he pushed past 80 kilograms.


    But when he attempted the 85-kilogram weight, his arms trembled under the strain. He gritted his teeth and managed to lift it on his second try. The 95-kilogram weight, however, pushed him to his limit, and the 100-kilogram stone refused to budge.


    "Three stars," Kwame announced as the crowd applauded politely.


    Rohan stepped off the platform, wiping his brow as he rejoined the other participants.


    The test continued with a procession of youths, most managing only two or three stars. Jabari¡¯s mind began to wander until a familiar name snapped him back to attention.


    "Next, Ibrahim of the Uzo Tribe¡¯s slums," Kwame declared.


    Jabari¡¯s head jerked toward the stage. The boy who stepped forward was the youngest of the slum-born children. In fact, he was probably the youngest of all the trialists there today ¨C a frail figure who couldn¡¯t have been older than ten. His oversized tattered shirt hung off his thin frame like a sheet draped over a stick.


    The crowd¡¯s reaction was immediate.


    "What''s a rat like him doing here?"


    "Look at him! I bet he can''t even lift the first weight."


    "Should''ve stayed in the gutter where he belongs."


    Ibrahim''s footsteps faltered with every jeer. His shoulders curled inward, and his eyes flicked toward the exit as though contemplating escape.


    Kwame noticed and knelt beside him, resting a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It¡¯s okay," he said, his voice soft yet steady. "Ignore them. Focus on the test. Just give it everything you have."


    Ibrahim¡¯s lips parted in surprise. The warmth in Kwame¡¯s expression was genuine ¨C something the boy clearly hadn¡¯t expected. He gave a shaky nod. "I''ll try," he whispered.


    The young boy approached the 40-kilogram weight, bent his knees, and grasped the handle with both hands. His thin arms strained as he pulled with all his might. The weight didn¡¯t move. Not even a fraction.


    The crowd erupted into laughter.


    "Don''t worry," Kwame encouraged, voice steady over the mocking chorus. "You have two more tries. Breathe deeply. Use your legs."


    Ibrahim tried again. He adjusted his stance, squatted slightly, and pulled once more. His face contorted with effort, veins bulging against his temple. The weight remained stubbornly grounded.


    "One more try,¡± Kwame encouraged, crouching beside him. " Use your legs and your core. Don''t just pull with your arms."


    The boy squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and with every ounce of strength he had, let out a desperate roar.


    "YAHHHHHHHH!"


    The weight shifted ¨C barely ¨C but it shifted.


    The laughter intensified.


    "Haha! Did you see that? He actually thinks shouting helps!"


    "Pathetic. Slum rats don''t belong here."


    "They really think they can crawl out of the gutter and stand beside us? What a joke!"


    Jabari felt for the child. The taunts, the laughter, Ibrahim¡¯s trembling form ¨C all of it felt painfully familiar. But what could he do? He was just a participant, just like Ibrahim.


    The truth was undeniable. Children from the slums faced an impossible disadvantage. They weren¡¯t just malnourished ¨C they were starved of everything: nutrients, opportunities, and self-belief. Most of them survived on scraps, with no concept of balanced meals or proper training.


    Jabari and Inayah had been slightly luckier. His unorthodox hunting techniques had occasionally earned them small portions of meat, giving them more strength than most slum children. Even so, his diet had only truly improved after meeting Heba.


    ''Ibrahim''s already won a battle most of these kids couldn¡¯t survive,'' Jabari thought grimly. ''They just don¡¯t realise it.''


    But knowing that didn¡¯t make the helplessness any easier to bear.


    "Well done, Ibrahim," Kwame said, placing a reassuring hand on the boy''s shoulder. "You managed to move it this time. If you keep working hard and pass the trials, you''ll be lifting that weight in no time. Just don¡¯t give up, okay?"


    Ibrahim''s eyes glimmered with a mixture of relief and determination as he nodded and shuffled off the stage.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ''Looks like it¡¯s just the Institute that doesn¡¯t discriminate against us slum residents,'' Jabari thought. He remembered the polite demeanour of both invigilators he''d interacted with and the genuine encouragement Ibrahim had just received.


    The next group called forward hailed from the Shura Tribe. Most of them earned three-star scores; their performances were competent but unremarkable.


    Next up was Chantelle, a slender, dark-skinned girl Jabari overheard was Jamal Marley¡¯s older sister. While she clearly possessed talent, strength wasn¡¯t her forte; at fourteen, she strained to lift 75 kilograms, narrowly scraping a two-star score.


    The next participant was one who ended up drawing his fair share of attention. Just like when Jabari had first laid eyes on him, the 15-year-old Azurian remained an island of indifference ¨C eyes distant, expression unreadable. He lifted each weight methodically, without the slightest flicker of emotion.


    In the end, he reluctantly lifted the 100-kilogram rock, causing murmurs to spread through the crowd. He had come within one weight of achieving the first four-star score of the day.


    Then came Jamal Marley, the prodigy everyone had been waiting for.


    The twelve-year-old strode onto the stage with a swagger that oozed self-assurance. He beamed at the crowd, feeding off their attention like a lion basking in the admiration of its pride.


    But confidence alone couldn''t lift weights. He pushed himself to the brink, barely hoisting the 90-kilogram stone before collapsing to his knees, red-faced and panting. The crowd still applauded; a three-star score was impressive for someone his age.


    Jamal, however, seemed oblivious to the cheers. His glare locked onto Azurian, resentment etched into his face. The older boy¡¯s calm, detached superiority had stolen the spotlight he believed was rightfully his.


    Azurian didn¡¯t spare him so much as a glance.


    "Next, Danso Musa of the Musa Tribe," Kwame announced.


    The crowd''s energy surged as a stocky figure strode onto the platform. Danso stood a full 5¡¯10¡±, his bald head gleaming beneath the sun. He cracked his neck and positioned himself before the weights without fanfare.


    Unlike the others, his lifting technique was meticulous. Jabari noticed the way he coiled his legs, back, and arms into each lift, engaging his entire body with seamless efficiency.


    Weight after weight rose into the air. The 105-kilogram stone didn¡¯t even slow him down, securing the first four-star score of the day. He finally faltered at 120 kilograms, leaving the crowd roaring in approval as he returned to the other trialists with a proud, satisfied smirk.


    Jabari''s eyes lingered on Danso''s movements. ''It was like his entire body worked in unison to lift each weight,'' he realised. ''That¡¯s the key to his strength.''


    The insight stirred something within him, but his reflection was cut short.


    "Next," Kwame¡¯s voice echoed, "Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s slums, age 15."


    The murmurs began immediately.


    "The slums?"


    "He doesn''t look like it."


    "Must be a mistake."


    Jabari took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and walked forward. The stares no longer bothered him. This was his first true step toward gaining the strength he needed to save Inayah.


    From the stands, Inayah¡¯s hands tightened around the railing. "Do you think Jabari can lift as much as that boy from earlier?" she asked Heba, voice tinged with hope.


    Heba sighed softly. "I''m afraid that''s unlikely. Your brother¡¯s been malnourished for too long. Even with the balanced meals you¡¯ve had lately, his body hasn¡¯t fully recovered. Meanwhile, these other kids have been training with top-tier instructors since they could walk."


    Inayah bit her lip. Deep down, she had known the truth all along. Yet, hope was a stubborn thing.


    Heba placed a comforting hand on the girl¡¯s shoulder. "Don¡¯t lose heart. This isn''t the pass-or-fail test. When it comes to the test of will...


    Well, I have no doubt your brother will leave everyone here speechless."


    Inayah swallowed and returned her gaze to the arena as Jabari approached the first weight. Her heart pounded in her chest.


    Jabari stepped onto the platform, his heart steady despite the weight of thousands of eyes bearing down on him. He bent over the first weight ¨C a modest 40 kilograms ¨C and grasped the bar tightly. With a grunt of effort, he hoisted it into the air. It wasn¡¯t graceful, and it certainly wasn¡¯t easy, but the weight rose past his knees and then to his chest before he let it drop with a dull thud.


    "Look at him struggling with the first weight. How pathetic!" one of the trialists sneered.


    "What do you expect?" another added with a laugh. "He''s just a slum rat. It¡¯s impressive he lifted it at all."


    Jabari heard them, but their words slid off his mind like rain on stone. Their ridicule meant nothing. They knew nothing of hunger, of nights spent wrestling with exhaustion after days without food. He refused to let the jeers burrow beneath his skin.


    Taking a steadying breath, he strode to the next weight: 45 kilograms. He bent forward as he had with the first and pulled.


    "45-kilogram weight, first attempt ¨C fail," Kwame declared, his voice crisp over the arena¡¯s sound system. "Two attempts left."


    Jabari frowned. He had felt the strain immediately; the weight hadn''t budged more than a fraction. But as he straightened, a memory stirred. His mind replayed the image of Danso Musa lifting with effortless precision. He hadn¡¯t simply yanked the weights with his arms ¨C his entire body had moved as one.


    Jabari closed his eyes and adjusted his stance, mimicking the technique he had seen earlier. He lowered himself into a squat, chest high, back straight, feet firmly planted. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the bar and pushed upward.


    The weight lifted ¨C just barely ¨C but it lifted.


    Kwame¡¯s brow arched. "This kid...


    Isn¡¯t he supposed to be from the slums? That form...


    It¡¯s not much worse than that Musa boy¡¯s. Was he just pretending earlier?"


    Jabari released the weight and moved to the next: 50 kilograms. He approached it with his eyes half-closed, still replaying Danso¡¯s movements in his mind. Every shift of muscle, every nuance of balance.


    "50-kilogram weight, first attempt ¨C fail. Two attempts left."


    Jabari remained crouched over the bar. He adjusted the angle of his hips and the width of his stance, then tried again. The weight lifted slightly before crashing down again.


    "50-kilogram weight, second attempt ¨C fail. One attempt left."


    The crowd''s laughter swelled.


    "See? It was just luck!"


    "Shouting won¡¯t help you now, slum rat!"


    Kwame''s eyes, however, shone with curiosity. ''That wasn¡¯t luck. His form improved between attempts. He¡¯s adjusting on the fly.''


    Jabari shifted his grip again, took a deep breath, and pushed with everything he had.


    "YAAAHHH!"


    The rock jerked upward as his legs, back, and core worked in unison. For an agonising second, the weight wobbled, but then it steadied in his grasp.


    "50-kilogram weight, third attempt ¨C pass!" Kwame announced, his voice tinged with genuine excitement. He cast a quick glance toward a figure seated near the back of the stands. ''He copied Danso¡¯s technique after seeing it just once. No wonder you took an interest in him, Lateef.''


    Jabari straightened, sweat dripping from his temples as he prepared to move to the 55-kilogram weight. But before he could step forward, a large, firm hand settled on his shoulder.


    "Don¡¯t bother," Kwame said quietly. "You¡¯ll only hurt yourself if you go any further."


    Jabari turned and met the man¡¯s gaze. There was no condescension in his expression ¨C only measured approval.


    "Thank you. I understand," Jabari replied, breathing heavily as he walked back toward the other participants. The crowd''s disdainful stares followed him every step of the way.


    "Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s slums: Test of Strength ¨C 1 star. Well done!"


    The arena fell into stunned silence.


    A single star was nothing impressive ¨C it was the second-worst result of the day. Yet Kwame ¨C the invigilator and genuine Beast-Warrior ¨C had praised him.


    Murmurs spread through the audience.


    "Why''s he congratulating that boy? He barely passed."


    "Maybe the kid¡¯s got connections?"


    "Can¡¯t be. He¡¯s from the slums."


    Kwame ignored the whispers. His gaze remained fixed on Jabari as he rejoined the others. ''That last lift was textbook perfect. You really found a gem this time, Lateef.''

 Book 1: Chapter 20 – Test of Speed

    "Next, August Owusu of the Owusu Tribe, age fifteen," Kwame called out, his voice carrying across the gathering.


    As Jabari descended the platform, his mind churned with frustration. Even after using the correct form, he still only scored a single star. Ultimately, he could only sigh, understanding that his malnourished body was playing a bigger part than he would¡¯ve liked. Whilst lost in thought, though, he was startled by a deep yet youthful voice beside him.


    "Good technique."


    Jabari''s head snapped up, and his eyes widened in surprise. Ascending the stairs he was descending was a boy who seemed more mountain than teenager. August Owusu loomed like a colossus, his height and build dwarfing not just the other children but even many of the adults.


    August, unfazed by Jabari¡¯s surprise, gave a brief nod and continued his ascent up the platform, his steps steady and indifferent.


    Before the invigilator could utter a word, the crowd collectively gasped. One by one, August lifted the weights as if they were mere toys, the solid metal discs rising with effortless ease.


    "I remember that name now!" a boy in the crowd exclaimed. "Owusu might be his surname now, but it used to be Asare!"


    A murmur of shock swept through the children.


    "You mean that''s August Asare?! One of the Asare princes? From the tribe that produces the greatest warriors in the entire Big Six?"


    "Yeah, it''s him. My family has ties to the Owusu Tribe. I heard that when he turned eight, he left the Asare Tribe and went to live with his maternal tribe."


    "That doesn¡¯t make any sense," another teen said, eyes glued to the stage. "The Owusu Tribe¡¯s strong, sure, but the Asares? They''re legends. Their warriors are some of the strongest in all of Ulo. Why would anyone give up that kind of training?"


    "No idea," the boy responded with a shrug. "But look at him. Who else but an Asare could pull that off?"


    Jabari turned his attention back to the stage. August had just lifted the 135-kilogram weight casually, almost carelessly. Only when he reached the 150-kilogram mark did he pause, shifting into a more precise stance. Jabari¡¯s eyes narrowed as he recognised the form. It was the same technique he¡¯d used earlier.


    With the proper positioning, August powered through the next few weights with mechanical efficiency, only faltering at the 180-kilogram weight. He didn''t bother with a second or third attempt. Instead, he descended the steps without sparing the invigilator so much as a glance.


    "August Owusu of the Owusu Tribe: Test of Strength ¨C five stars. Congratulations!" Kwame¡¯s declaration ignited the first standing ovation of the trials.


    August remained unmoved. His expression was that of someone who found the applause irrelevant. As he strode through the crowd, the children instinctively parted for him, creating a clear path as if compelled by his sheer presence.


    The remainder of the test proceeded without further surprises. A few of the older teens managed to cross the hundred-kilogram threshold, but none came close to August''s score ¨C or even Danso''s. Most results fell comfortably within the two to three-star range.


    Finally, Kwame stepped back onto the platform, his expression stern yet satisfied. "That concludes the first test. Congratulations to you all on your efforts. Some of you achieved impressive results, but don''t let it go to your heads just yet. None of you even came close to the record of three hundred kilograms."


    The number hit Jabari like a slap. His brows shot up as he recalled how much he''d struggled with the fifty-kilogram weight. Even August, with his monstrous strength, hadn''t passed one hundred and eighty.


    ''Three hundred kilos?! That''s insane!''


    "Who set that record?" a voice from the crowd asked, unable to contain their curiosity.


    "That record," Kwame said, his eyes sweeping across the young hopefuls, pausing briefly on August, "was set by Yafeu Asare, the Crown Prince of the Asare Tribe."


    The moment the name left Kwame''s lips, Jabari sensed something shift. August, who stood a short distance away, barely moved, yet his presence seemed to change. His posture tensed, and his jaw tightened.


    It was for the briefest of moments, but Jabari noticed it clearly.


    ''Yafeu Asare...'' The name echoed in his mind as he stole another glance at the giant beside him.


    For the first time since the trials began, August Owusu no longer seemed so indifferent.


    "I only bring that up to remind you that there''s always someone out there who''s better than you. Now isn¡¯t the time to sit back and relax." Kwame¡¯s sharp gaze swept over the gathered youths. "Next, we move on to the Test of Speed. Like the Test of Strength, this is a straightforward challenge.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "When your name is called, you and nine others will step forward and take your positions at the starting line behind me. When I give the command, you will sprint the full length of the one-hundred-metre track as fast as you can while remaining in your designated lanes.


    "If you''re caught straying into someone else¡¯s lane, one second will be added to your total time. If your lane-hopping obstructs another participant, you¡¯ll automatically receive a one-star score ¨C regardless of how fast you actually were.


    "Now, let me explain the scoring. A time of 14 seconds or slower earns you one star. If you finish between 13 and 13.99 seconds, that''s two stars. Running it in 12 to 12.99 seconds gets you three stars. Those who finish in 11 to 11.99 seconds receive four stars. And if you manage to complete the race in 10.99 seconds or faster, you¡¯ll secure a top score of five stars.


    "Oh, and for those of you curious about the record," Kwame added with a small smile, "It stands at an astounding 9.32 seconds ¨C set three years ago by the Crown Prince of the Khaldun Tribe, Zuberi Khaldun, when he was just thirteen."


    Jabari''s eyes widened at the announcement.


    ''The Khaldun Tribe''s Crown Prince? Wouldn''t that make him Heba''s brother?''


    Even Inayah, who didn''t fully grasp how remarkable it was to run that fast at such a young age, tilted her head curiously toward the hooded princess beside her.


    "Little Zuzu is my baby brother," Heba whispered softly enough for only Inayah to hear. "He''s quite the talented warrior."


    Inayah could feel the quiet pride laced through Heba''s words. It wasn¡¯t just coming from the princess either; her two guards, standing like statues behind her, seemed to radiate the same sentiment. The mention of Zuberi''s record stirred something within them ¨C as though they''d been the ones praised.


    "He''s not as talented as my brother, though," Inayah said, her voice rising in playful defiance.


    Heba chuckled at the girl''s innocent declaration, then shifted her attention back to the trials.


    The first group of ten approached the track, drawing the attention of the entire colosseum. The reason for the crowd¡¯s anticipation stood near the centre of the line: Danso Musa, the young master of the Musa Tribe and one of the clear favourites to win.


    "On your marks," Kwame called.


    Danso bent forward, muscles coiled beneath his skin.


    "Get set."


    The air seemed to still.


    "Go!"


    Danso exploded from the starting line, his powerful strides propelling him into an early lead. Step by step, the gap between him and the others grew wider until he crossed the finish line in a blistering 11.89 seconds.


    "Four stars!" Kwame announced, and the crowd roared its approval. Two tests, two four-star scores.


    The next group followed swiftly, with the crowd''s attention now fixed on Chantelle, the older sister of the boy prodigy, Jamal.


    The moment the race began, Chantelle surged forward with smooth, efficient strides. She pushed herself relentlessly, her brow furrowed with concentration as she charged toward the finish line.


    "12.08 seconds!" Kwame declared.


    The crowd erupted again ¨C she¡¯d narrowly missed a four-star result but had still impressed everyone present with her strong three-star finish.


    The next race had the entire colosseum leaning forward in anticipation. Though ten trialists stepped onto the track, all eyes were locked on just two: the Shura Tribe''s young prodigy, Jamal Marley, and the tribe''s icy enigma, Azurian.


    "You might''ve beaten me in the strength test," Jamal declared, his voice brimming with arrogance as he shot a smug grin at his opponent. "But when it comes to speed, you don''t stand a chance."


    Azurian turned his gaze toward Jamal ¨C cold, detached, and uninterested ¨C before looking away without a word.


    The dismissive gesture was like a slap to Jamal¡¯s pride. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding in barely restrained frustration. But as Kwame raised his hand to signal the start, Jamal¡¯s expression shifted. Every ounce of irritation vanished, replaced by laser-sharp focus.


    "On your marks...


    Get set...


    Go!"


    The pair exploded off the starting line like twin bolts of lightning, instantly leaving the other eight trialists behind. Their feet hammered the ground in a blur, their bodies cutting through the air with ferocious speed. Yet, even amidst the spectacle of their race, the outcome quickly became clear.


    Azurian surged forward with remarkable efficiency, crossing the finish line in an impressive 11.46 seconds ¨C securing a four-star score and even surpassing Danso¡¯s time.


    But the spotlight belonged to Jamal.


    His chest hit the finish line just over a second earlier, and when Kwame announced the time, the colosseum erupted.


    "Jamal Marley of the Shura Tribe: 10.56 seconds ¨C Five stars!"


    The crowd leapt to its feet, roaring with approval as Jamal raised a triumphant fist. His time wasn''t just the fastest of the day; it was a declaration of dominance. And the fact that he was only twelve made the achievement even more remarkable.


    Despite his frustration over Azurian''s indifference, Jamal soaked in the applause, letting the thunderous ovation soothe his bruised pride.


    The races that followed paled in comparison. Though a few trialists performed admirably, none came close to matching Jamal''s feat. The colosseum¡¯s excitement began to wane until Kwame called out the next name.


    "August Owusu of the Owusu Tribe!"


    The murmur of disinterest instantly transformed into eager whispers. All attention turned to the colossal teenager who had left the crowd in awe during the Test of Strength.


    August stepped to the starting line, towering over the other competitors. His expression remained unchanged ¨C detached, indifferent, as though the event was nothing more than a tedious formality.


    "On your marks...


    Get set...


    Go!"


    The racers sprang forward, legs pumping furiously. August''s long strides helped him establish an early lead, but his size, which had been such an advantage in the strength test, seemed less suited for this particular challenge. His pace remained steady but lacked the explosive acceleration of the others.


    He crossed the line in 13.12 seconds ¨C earning a respectable two-star score and comfortably taking first in his heat.


    The crowd¡¯s reaction was subdued. For most participants, a two-star time would have been met with nods of approval, perhaps even mild applause. But August wasn''t just any participant. After his earlier feat, expectations had soared to impossible heights. The lack of a similarly superhuman display left the audience quietly disappointed.


    August, however, remained completely unaffected. He walked back to his position without a flicker of emotion, ignoring the curious stares of his peers and the murmurs from the stands.


    The giant of the Owusu Tribe had proven he was human, after all.

 Book 1: Chapter 21 – Test of Reactions

    Jabari¡¯s name was finally called during the last race of the Test of Speed.


    He took a deep breath, steadying the excitement and tension coiled within him, then stepped into lane ten. The warmth of the sun-kissed his skin as his toes pressed into the starting line.


    Unlike the Test of Strength, this was a challenge he felt confident about. Years spent hunting through the outskirts of the slums had honed his speed. He¡¯d often found himself sprinting after prey or escaping the older slum-dwellers who tried to steal his hard-earned dinner. Most adults couldn¡¯t catch him once he started running; that was part of the reason they often relied on ambushes, trapping him in ways his speed meant nothing.


    "On your marks," Kwame''s voice crackled through the speakers.


    Jabari''s muscles tensed. The air thickened with anticipation. In his mind, a rabbit materialised on the track ahead, its ears twitching as it bolted forward.


    "Get set...


    Go!"


    Jabari lunged from the starting line like a coiled spring released. His body instinctively fell into a familiar rhythm ¨C feet striking the ground with rapid precision, arms pumping in perfect synchrony. The imaginary rabbit dashed ahead of him, and Jabari gave chase, just as he''d done countless times in the wild.


    The finish line came sooner than expected. He crossed it with his heart hammering in his chest and his breath coming in shallow gulps.


    "Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s Slums: 12.32 seconds! Three stars!"


    The crowd responded with a smattering of applause, more surprised than impressed. Yet Jabari couldn¡¯t suppress a flicker of pride. He hadn''t just kept up with the others; he''d surpassed most of them.


    If he¡¯d run this time in one of the earlier heats, he might have taken first place. Unfortunately, fate had paired him with another exceptional competitor: Chidi of the Nuwanu Tribe.


    "Chidi of the Nuwanu Tribe: 11.83 seconds! Four stars!" Kwame announced.


    The crowd''s reaction was far louder this time, with many turning to each other in recognition of the boy¡¯s impressive performance.


    Jabari descended the stage, still basking in the small but genuine pride of his achievement. This was the fastest he had ever run, and he knew exactly why. A week of nutritious meals and proper rest, courtesy of Heba¡¯s generosity, had strengthened his once-frail body. Although still underdeveloped, he was far superior to the him living in the slums.


    As he reached the bottom of the steps, his attention was drawn to a conversation among a group of trialists nearby.


    "You won¡¯t believe it," one of the boys said, his voice tinged with disbelief, "but that Chidi used to live in my Nuwanu Tribe''s slums."


    "What?" another exclaimed. "You¡¯re telling me slum rats took both first and second place in that last race? How¡¯s that even possible?"


    "Not exactly," the first boy corrected. "It¡¯s true that he used to live in the slums, but about eighteen months ago, the Chief of my tribe accepted his family into the main settlement. All because Chidi showed the potential to become a formidable warrior."


    "What? How did a slum kid even get noticed by your Chief?"


    "Well," the boy said, his tone carrying a hint of smug superiority, "his father was one of our slum enforcers. Like in most tribes, the kids of enforcers get used as ''sparring partners'' for the warrior trainees preparing for the trials."


    "Sparring partners?" another boy snickered. "Don¡¯t you mean punching bags?" His lips curled into a sadistic grin.


    "Minor details," the first boy said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The important part is that during those sessions, Chidi impressed the elders with his insane reflexes and natural battle sense. So, they granted his family a temporary promotion. It becomes permanent if he manages to become a Beast-Warrior and returns to serve as one of our tribe¡¯s guardians."


    The listeners exchanged astonished glances.


    "So, you''re saying his speed isn''t even his best attribute?"


    "Not even close," the boy said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Just watch."


    Jabari¡¯s gaze instinctively shifted toward the frosty-eyed boy who had beaten him in the race. His mind turned over the revelation he¡¯d just heard.


    ''I guess I wasn¡¯t the only former slum-dweller given a chance to escape the hell hole that is the slums.''


    "Our third and final test of the day is the Reaction Test," Kwame announced, his voice cutting through the lingering murmurs of the crowd. "I need you all to pay close attention for this one. It¡¯s not quite as straightforward as the previous two."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The children immediately quieted, curiosity drawing their attention toward the invigilator as he descended the stage. Microphone in hand, Kwame strode toward the centre of the track where the sprints had taken place earlier. Upon reaching a specific spot, he raised his foot and brought it down in a single, unassuming stomp.


    Boom.


    The ground shuddered beneath them, sending a faint tremor through the colosseum¡¯s stone floor. The casual display of power sent a jolt of disbelief through Jabari.


    ''How strong do you have to be to generate that much force with a single stomp?'' Jabari wondered, eyes wide as he studied the seemingly ordinary man who now radiated an aura of quiet strength.


    Before anyone could recover, the track responded to the stomp. The painted lines of the ten lanes dissolved as though they''d never existed. In their place, twenty glowing runic squares appeared, each marked with unfamiliar symbols. The patterns shimmered with faint energy, crackling softly like embers stirred by an invisible wind.


    Kwame gestured toward the glowing formations. "These boxes are created using formations," he explained. "Once activated, each one will generate a one-way barrier. Once inside, you won¡¯t be able to leave until the test concludes or the formation is deactivated."


    He raised a small, rubber-like ball high enough for everyone to see. It was dull grey and unimpressive at first glance, yet the way he held it suggested otherwise.


    "Here¡¯s how the test works. Each of you will enter one of these boxes, and a ball like this will be dropped inside with you. Your task is simple: avoid being hit for as long as possible."


    A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dodge a ball? It sounded far easier than the previous tests.


    Kwame¡¯s smile deepened, eyes glinting with amusement as he caught sight of several overconfident expressions. "I know what you''re thinking ¨C sounds easy, right? Sorry to disappoint you, but these balls are made from a material known as I.A.R., short for ''Impact Acceleration Rubber.''"


    He gave the ball a casual toss, catching it effortlessly. "Every time the ball makes contact with the walls, floor, or ceiling of your enclosure, it will gradually accelerate. The longer you last, the faster it gets ¨C until it reaches its top speed after sixty seconds. And when that happens, a second ball will be introduced. Then a third, and so on.


    "Each ball is also equipped with a formation that synchronises with the runes in your box. The moment the ball so much as grazes the hem of your clothes, the formation will deactivate, signalling the end of your attempt."


    Jabari''s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the explanation. He didn''t know what a formation was, but he understood enough: avoid the ball, and if you last long enough, more would appear.


    Kwame continued. "Before anyone asks, yes, the balls can tell the difference between hitting you, hitting another ball, or striking the walls. So, there won¡¯t be any false readings.


    "Now, let''s go over the scoring. If you get hit within the first minute, you¡¯ll receive one star. Survive between one and two minutes, and that¡¯s two stars. Three stars for two to three minutes, four stars for three to four minutes, and if you manage to endure for more than four minutes, you¡¯ll earn the coveted five-star score."


    A hushed intensity settled over the children. The simplicity of the rules didn¡¯t mask the challenge.


    "Sir," a voice called out hesitantly from the crowd. "Could you tell us what the record is and who set it?"


    Kwame¡¯s smile returned. "The current record for the Reaction Test stands at six minutes and forty-two seconds. And once again, it was set three years ago by the Crown Prince of the Khaldun Tribe ¨C Zuberi Khaldun."


    The response was immediate. A collective gasp swept through the trialists, followed by hushed whispers of disbelief.


    Ignoring the shock his revelation had induced, Kwame calmly read out the first twenty names, assigning each participant to one of the glowing enclosures.


    The chosen trialists made their way to their respective boxes, their expressions a mix of anticipation and tension. Once they were in position, Kwame tapped the ground with his foot ¨C lightly this time. The runes on each box flared to life in response, their symbols glowing with a faint, blue-white radiance. A moment later, a ball identical to the one Kwame had shown earlier shot up from the floor into each enclosure.


    Jabari leaned forward, watching intently.


    ''That seems easy enough,'' he thought as he observed the balls lazily bouncing from wall to wall.


    With every impact, though, the balls picked up speed, gradually transforming from sluggish projectiles to increasingly unpredictable missiles.


    "Argh!"


    The first pained cry shattered the illusion of simplicity. Jabari¡¯s eyes snapped toward the sound just in time to see one of the boys crumple to his knees, clutching his side and gasping for air.


    The sight surprised Jabari more than the early elimination itself. He had expected the balls to sting upon impact, but judging by the boy¡¯s strained expression and heaving breaths, they delivered far more than a mild sting.


    Jabari swallowed, his heart racing slightly at the realisation. Still, he couldn''t help but feel a spark of excitement.


    Over the next few rounds, several performances stood out:


    Danso Musa: 2 minutes and 58 seconds ¨C three stars.


    Azurian: 3 minutes and 18 seconds ¨C four stars.


    Jamal Marley: 3 minutes and 39 seconds ¨C four stars.


    Still, the first true surprise came from August Owusu.


    No one had expected the teenage giant, whose physique seemed built more for smashing through walls than dodging speeding projectiles, to demonstrate such agility. Yet August lasted 3 minutes and 32 seconds, securing himself a very impressive four-star result.


    Jabari tried to picture the sheer dedication it must have taken for someone of August''s size to hone his reflexes to that level.


    The next standout performance came from Chidi, the former slum-dweller from the Nuwanu Tribe.


    The wiry boy moved like a shadow, his body bending, twisting, and slipping past the accelerating ball with uncanny ease. The arena buzzed with excitement when Kwame announced his time: 3 minutes and 41 seconds ¨C making him first thus far.


    ¡®No wonder their Chief took notice of him,¡¯ Jabari thought, impressed. ¡®He¡¯s like a ghost in there.¡¯


    But the most astonishing performance came from Chantelle Marley.


    The older sister of the prodigy Jamal stepped into the box with quiet confidence. From the moment the ball began its unpredictable assault, she moved with an elegance that mesmerised the audience. Her steps flowed with such effortless grace that it was as though she anticipated the ball¡¯s trajectory before it even changed direction.


    She didn¡¯t just dodge; she danced¡ªlight, smooth, and always a step ahead.


    "Chantelle Marley of the Shura Tribe: 4 minutes and 5 seconds ¨C five stars!" Kwame declared.


    The colosseum erupted into cheers, and Jabari sat back, stunned.


    ¡®Her footwork...¡¯ His mind replayed the scene again and again. Every pivot, every shift, every dodge seemed calculated to not just avoid the current threat but to position her perfectly for the next. It was an art, a rhythm she followed instinctively.


    He closed his eyes, trying to memorise the pattern of her movements.


    "Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s slums!"


    His eyes flew open.


    Finally, it was his turn.

 Book 1: Chapter 22 – A New Record

    Jabari, along with the nineteen other candidates in his batch, stepped into their respective formations.


    Unlike previous rounds, this one lacked any standout names ¨C at least, as far as the audience was concerned. Most had already turned their attention elsewhere, uninterested in the outcome.


    Most, except for one.


    Inayah sat rigidly in her seat, her small hands clenched into fists as she stared unblinking at the monitors above the stage, afraid she might miss even a second of her brother¡¯s turn.


    "How well do you think Jari will do?" she asked, her voice laced with both excitement and worry.


    She had turned to Heba for an answer, but this time, it was Lateef who spoke first.


    "He might just surprise everyone," the Beast-Warrior said, a knowing smile playing at his lips. His mind flashed back to Jabari¡¯s fight against the enforcer from the Umeme Tribe¡¯s slums. In that fight, Jabari had shown something that shocked him. Unrefined? Sure, but his ability to repeatedly dodge what should¡¯ve been fatal strikes was incredible!


    Inside his enclosure, Jabari exhaled slowly, centring himself.


    ''I won¡¯t use my spirit to enhance my vision just yet,'' he decided. ''Let¡¯s see how far I can go on my own first.''


    The test began.


    At first, Jabari relied purely on his natural agility, slipping past the ball¡¯s slow bounces with ease. His nimble movements allowed him to glide through the first minute without breaking a sweat. When the second ball was introduced, it took him a few moments to adjust, but its initial speed was manageable, giving him enough time to adapt.


    His footwork wasn¡¯t the most refined ¨C nowhere near as breathtaking as some of the previous competitors, but there was a smoothness to his dodges, a quiet efficiency that slowly began drawing the attention of the audience.


    It was only when the third ball was introduced that things changed ¨C he suddenly began incorporating Chantelle¡¯s movement.


    To the shock of those watching, Jabari¡¯s movements underwent an instant transformation. In the blink of an eye, the unpolished, instinct-driven dodging was gone ¨C replaced by something far more precise. His steps became sharper, his pivots tighter.


    The improvement was drastic. Almost unnatural.


    ''That footwork...'' Kwame¡¯s sharp gaze locked onto Jabari, his mind racing. ''It¡¯s Chantelle¡¯s¡­


    He really is able to copy something after only seeing it once. The Khaldun¡¯s might have just found themselves another little monster.''


    He still hadn¡¯t reached Chantelle¡¯s level, but with each passing second, he was rapidly improving. With each successful dodge, his footwork became smoother, more efficient. It was as if he and the balls were in a race; every time they accelerated, so too did his movements.


    Only a select few warriors in the crowd recognised what was happening ¨C Kwame, Lateef, and a handful of other experienced fighters.


    They also understood one other important fact: Jabari could only continue so long as he kept improving. The moment his growth plateaued, he would lose.


    The question was: how long could he continue to improve?


    Jabari, however, remained entirely unconcerned.


    This was nothing more than a warm-up. He still had a secret weapon left.


    "Is this for real?! How has he hit the three-minute mark?!"


    "Isn¡¯t he just a slum rat?!"


    By the time three minutes had passed, Jabari was the only trialist in his group still going. The murmurs of disbelief had turned into a chorus of stunned whispers.


    Now, all eyes in the Colosseum were on him and him alone.


    ''That footwork...¡¯ Chantelle narrowed her eyes, scrutinising every movement he made. ¡®Why does it resemble my own?''


    ''So, this is the limit of his improvements,'' Kwame thought, his sharp eyes fixed on Jabari.


    For the past twenty seconds, Jabari¡¯s rapid growth had slowed to a crawl. At exactly 3 minutes and 35 seconds, it came to a complete stop. His footwork, though impressive, still lacked the polish and precision of Chantelle''s. But Kwame understood the context: Chantelle had likely spent years refining her movements, while Jabari had replicated and honed them in mere minutes.


    Despite the plateau in his development, Jabari continued to dodge the balls, twisting and pivoting with remarkable agility. The audience, however, could see that each evasive manoeuvre was becoming more laboured by the second.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When the timer hit 3 minutes and 45 seconds, murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd.


    "He''s hit his limit," someone whispered.


    The tension in the Colosseum thickened as the balls closed in from all directions. Jabari ducked beneath two coming from the front, his body bending awkwardly to avoid them. But the danger hadn''t passed. Two more shot toward him from behind, their sharp whistling cutting through the air like hunting arrows.


    The crowd collectively held its breath.


    Jabari twisted at the last possible second, arching his back to avoid the first ball while barely shifting his shoulder to evade the second.


    At first, the audience dismissed it as pure luck. But as the balls continued to converge on him, Jabari dodged each one with the same precision, swiftly transforming their scepticism into genuine astonishment.


    "What the...


    Did he just get better all of a sudden?"


    "No way. He was struggling a second ago."


    In the arena, Jabari felt the familiar cool rush of his spirit energy sharpening his vision. The balls that had previously blurred into streaks of colour now slowed to half their perceived speed, each bounce and trajectory rendered with crisp clarity.


    ''Using spirit really is like having a cheat code,'' he thought, his lips twitching into a grin. With each bounce, he could predict the balls'' movements before they happened, giving him ample time to position himself optimally.


    The timer passed five minutes.


    By now, the Colosseum was deathly silent. Not a single person spoke. The disbelief had given way to raw fascination. A boy from the slums was putting on a performance that bordered on the level of monstrous.


    Five minutes and thirty seconds.


    Jabari¡¯s muscles burned with exertion. Sweat poured from his body, soaking his clothes and blurring his vision as droplets stung his eyes. His spirit-enhanced sight allowed him to track the balls, but his body simply couldn¡¯t match the speed of his mind. Every dodge became more frantic, his movements growing increasingly unbalanced.


    One ball shot toward his temple. He ducked beneath it just in time but then heard the faint whistle of another approaching from behind.


    "I wish I could fuse my-" His eyes widened mid-sentence. "That¡¯s it! Hahaha, I¡¯m such an idiot!"


    The crowd watched in confusion as Jabari burst into laughter, despite the deadly speed of the balls circling him.


    ¡®My brain couldn''t handle all five senses at once,¡¯ he muttered to himself, ¡®but if I start with just two...¡¯


    His spirit flared again, this time enhancing his vision and his hearing simultaneously.


    The world shifted.


    Suddenly, he could see the sound of the balls. Every bounce reverberated in his ears like ripples across a still pond. The faintest hiss of compressed air accompanied their trajectories, painting an invisible map around him. His brain merged the auditory and visual input into a single, coherent picture.


    ''This...


    This is incredible.''


    The newfound sensory fusion, however, came with an immediate drawback. His body lagged behind, reacting sluggishly to the overwhelming flood of information. His dodging turned sloppy, and twice, he barely avoided being hit by sheer instinct.


    But Jabari was no stranger to adaptation.


    Bit by bit, his brain adjusted to the new input. His movements became sharper again, then sharper still. He dodged a ball with a sidestep before it even completed its bounce. Another ball ricocheted toward his ribs; he shifted a fraction earlier, gliding out of reach as though he''d predicted its path long before.


    The audience sat frozen in their seats, mouths agape.


    "How is this possible?!" Kwame asked aloud.


    Even Lateef, who had witnessed Jabari¡¯s uncanny instincts firsthand, couldn''t suppress a low whistle of disbelief.


    The boy wasn¡¯t just reacting to the balls anymore. He was reading them.


    "What¡¯s wrong?" Heba asked, tearing her eyes away from Jabari''s breathtaking performance to find Inayah silently crying beside her.


    The younger girl¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the monitor overhead, her wide, teary eyes locked on her brother¡¯s face.


    "Jari...


    He¡¯s smiling," Inayah whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and joy.


    Heba blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? Jabari always smiles when he''s with you."


    Inayah shook her head. "That¡¯s different. Of course, I¡¯ve seen him smile before, but this is the first time I¡¯ve seen him genuinely smile, for himself ¨C out of enjoyment."


    Her tears continued to fall, but now, they were accompanied by a radiant, heartfelt smile. As she watched her brother move with effortless grace, weaving through the balls like a dancer in a deadly waltz, she felt something shift inside her.


    For the first time since her illness began, she believed ¨C truly believed ¨C that Jabari would find a reason to keep living once she was gone.


    Heba turned back to the screen, her chest tightening at the sight of Jabari''s carefree expression.


    ''He really is having fun,'' she thought, noting the wide, unrestrained grin on his face as he twisted and dodged through the storm of speeding projectiles.


    But alongside that thought came a pang of sadness. She exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the siblings¡¯ shared hardship. Two children, bound by love, shaped by suffering.


    Jabari, however, was oblivious to everything beyond his enclosure.


    The colosseum, the crowd, the stakes ¨C they all faded into insignificance. His mind focused solely on the relentless balls hurtling toward him. His enhanced senses mapped their movements with near-perfect clarity, allowing his body to flow instinctively from dodge to dodge.


    His footwork, though no longer improving, had reached a level indistinguishable from Chantelle¡¯s. Yet none of that mattered to him.


    What mattered was the rush. The exquisite thrill of knowing that one misstep ¨C one moment of hesitation ¨C would mean failure.


    For the first time in his life, Jabari felt truly alive.


    Unfortunately, even the most exhilarating moments must come to an end.


    Three balls struck simultaneously, breaching his defences with merciless precision.


    Thud. Thud. Thud.


    "Argh!" Jabari gasped as one slammed into his shoulder, another buried itself into his gut, and the third crashed into the small of his back. The impact sent him sprawling to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs.


    His body screamed in agony. Every breath came in shallow, burning gasps. He tried to push himself up but collapsed again, landing flat on his back. His vision swam; his limbs felt like lead.


    But then-


    He started laughing.


    The sound echoed through the now-silent Colosseum, raw and genuine.


    Bruised and breathless, Jabari lay there, overcome with uncontrollable laughter. The pain was undeniable, but it was overshadowed by the pure joy coursing through him. He wished ¨C v more than anything ¨C that he could do it all over again.


    On the stage, Kwame stared at the stopwatch in his trembling hand. His jaw tightened as he double-checked the time.


    He raised the microphone to his lips and took a steadying breath.


    "Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s Slums," he announced, his voice carrying through the stunned silence, "7 minutes and 9 seconds. Congratulations on setting a new record!"

 Book 1: Chapter 23 – Path of Improvement

    As soon as the words left his mouth, the audience fell into stunned silence before erupting into a fervent uproar.


    Jabari, the centre of attention, simply rolled to his feet, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He ignored the dull ache coursing through his body, intending to return to his place among the other trialists, until he noticed their wide-eyed stares.


    ¡°Why is everyone looking at me like that?¡± he asked, bewildered. ¡°Do I have something on my face or something?¡±


    ¡°You just set a new record ¨C seven minutes and nine seconds,¡± Kwame explained, shaking his head. He could tell Jabari had been too busy laughing to even register the announcement.


    Jabari blinked. Only now did he realise why they were all gawking at him. Even he had to admit ¨C it was unexpected.


    ¡®I guess I underestimated my spirit ability,¡¯ he mused before turning back to the invigilator hesitantly.


    Kwame immediately caught the look on the boy¡¯s face. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Uh...¡± Jabari scratched his head. ¡°Is it possible to play that game again in the future?¡± His eyes shimmered with barely contained excitement.


    The moment the words left his lips, the other trialists gawked at him as if he had lost his mind.


    For all of them ¨C even Chantelle, who had fared the best ¨C the test had been nerve-wracking. The knowledge that even the slightest mistake could earn them a punishing strike from those high-speed spheres had kept them on edge. Yet here was Jabari, looking as if he were ready for another round without a second thought.


    Kwame let out a helpless chuckle. ¡°As long as you pass the trials and join the institute, you¡¯ll definitely get the chance to ¡®play the game¡¯ again.¡±


    Jabari grinned, nodding happily before heading back to join the other trialists, awaiting further instructions.


    Before he could leave, however, Kwame clapped a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Thanks, I needed that,¡± Jabari muttered, rolling his shoulders.


    Kwame raised an eyebrow. ¡®To be this calm after having his shoulder popped back in...


    I¡¯m looking forward to seeing how he performs on the final test.¡¯


    Shaking his head, he stepped back onto the platform and faced the gathered children. ¡°That brings us to the end of the first day. I suggest you all rest as much as possible ¨C tomorrow is the combat assessment.¡±


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Most of the trialists already knew what was coming, yet the announcement still weighed on them. Many sported bruises from the test, their confidence shaken. Others, especially the stronger candidates, practically buzzed with anticipation. Tomorrow would be their chance to prove what they were really made of.


    As Jabari made his way toward the exit, hoping to regroup with Inayah and the others, he felt the weight of numerous gazes on him ¨C bitterness, envy, and raw competitiveness reflected in their eyes.


    Jamal, his usual sneer in place, brushed past him. ¡°Don¡¯t let one good score get to your head, rat,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Tomorrow, I¡¯ll show you the real difference between us.¡±


    Jabari barely had time to react before Jamal disappeared into the crowd.


    He stood there for a moment, watching him go. He never once believed he would be able to rattle someone like Jamal, one of the trial¡¯s top contenders. And yet...


    A slow smile spread across his face.


    They had noticed him.


    Even if they didn¡¯t want to admit it, they had acknowledged him.


    "Congratulations on a successful first day," Heba said, her voice breaking through Jabari¡¯s daze.


    He turned in surprise just as Inayah threw herself into his arms.


    "I knew you could do it!" she squealed, her face aglow with excitement.


    The entire walk back, she didn¡¯t stop chattering about his performance. Over and over, she gushed about how amazing he had looked, weaving through the barrage of spheres during the reaction test. The pride in her eyes was unmistakable; it was as though she were bragging about her own accomplishments rather than his.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Even so, despite her enthusiasm, the moment her head hit the pillow, she was out cold. Even with Heba¡¯s help, her body remained fragile. She had pushed herself to stay awake through the day¡¯s events so that she wouldn¡¯t miss a single second of her brother''s triumph.


    "Now that you''ve put Inayah to bed, it''s time we sort you out," Heba said, beckoning him into her room. "Can''t have you in too much pain tomorrow. Take off your top and lie down on the bed."


    Jabari froze.


    He knew the rules. Growing up in the slums might have left gaps in his education, but even he understood the societal norms between men and women. Alone, in a grown woman¡¯s bedroom, half-undressed on her bed? His already dark-skin visibly reddened.


    Heba raised a brow, then chuckled. "You can relax. I¡¯m not about to take advantage of you. I just need to get at those bruises."


    "Ooh, right." Jabari swallowed hard and peeled off his shirt before lying back stiffly. His skin prickled under the unfamiliar sensation of exposure.


    "Yikes," Heba murmured, inspecting the angry purple bruises blooming across his torso and shoulder. "Those balls did a number on you. Does it hurt?"


    "I¡¯ve had worse," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it held the answers to his embarrassment.


    Heba chuckled again. "You¡¯re awfully quiet. Everything alright?"


    Jabari didn¡¯t respond, but the heat in his cheeks was answer enough.


    "Okay, okay," she relented. "No more teasing." She positioned her hands above his bruises and began murmuring an incantation. "God of the Sea, heed my call..."


    A cool, soothing energy radiated from her palms. Jabari gasped softly as the pain melted away, replaced by a sensation of tranquil relief. His eyes fluttered shut, and a low groan escaped his lips before he could stop it.


    Even knowing Heba was a Mage hadn¡¯t prepared him for the reality of her magic. The pale blue glow emanating from her hands bathed the room in soft, ethereal light as the throbbing in his muscles faded by the second.


    "I have to say, you really surprised me today," Heba said as the glow pulsed gently. "A week ago, you were just a slum kid, and now you''re setting new records for the Beast-Warrior Institute." She smiled faintly. "After today, I guarantee every Elder in the institute will know your name. Congratulations ¨C you¡¯ve taken your first big step forward."


    Jabari shifted uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "Maybe, but I still can¡¯t compare to your brother."


    "Little Zuzu?" Heba arched a brow. "His talent is unmatched by everyone in my tribe ¨C past and present. He¡¯s also had the best possible training environments for as long as he could walk. His breaking a few records here and there is to be expected. If he couldn''t, he wouldn''t deserve his place as one of Ulo¡¯s Four Young Dragons."


    Jabari¡¯s brow furrowed. " Four Young Dragons? What¡¯s that?"


    "They¡¯re the four most talented warriors of our nation''s younger generation," Heba explained. "And Oluwa¡­


    He¡¯s publicly recognised as the head of the list."


    Jabari¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line as a single thought echoed through his mind. ¡®The strongest, huh?¡¯


    "Okay, that should do it. Go back to your room and get some rest ¨C you''ve got another big day tomorrow, and you''ll need to be at your best," Heba said, pulling Jabari from his thoughts.


    He blinked and sat up, glancing toward her. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her brow, catching the light and accentuating her already otherworldly beauty. Yet, more than that, it revealed something he hadn''t considered before ¨C using magic wasn¡¯t as effortless for her as she made it seem.


    "Thank you," he said softly, gratitude plain in his voice.


    "It¡¯s fine. Now go get some rest." Heba gave him a gentle push toward the door and ushered him out. The door clicked shut behind him before he even realised what was happening.


    Jabari stood there, staring at the closed door. Only then did it hit him. He''d been alone with Heba ¨C someone who clearly knew more about him and his abilities than she let on, and he completely forgot to ask her about it.


    Shaking his head, he made his way back to his room.


    Yet, despite Heba¡¯s advice, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to go straight to sleep. The day¡¯s events had ignited a spark of curiosity he couldn¡¯t ignore. Settling into a cross-legged position on the floor, he closed his eyes and turned his focus inward.


    First, he channelled his spirit into his senses one by one ¨C sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste ¨C enhancing each individually. The process was familiar now, almost instinctive.


    Next, he tried to fuse his sight and hearing, just like he had during the trial.


    The results were¡­


    Frustrating!


    Earlier, it had felt almost natural, but now it was like pushing two stubborn stones together. He could do it, but it required far more concentration. Ten long, gruelling seconds passed before the senses finally merged, granting him that familiar clarity.


    Then-


    Snap!


    A fleeting distraction shattered the connection.


    Jabari scowled. For some reason, linking two senses was significantly harder than blending all five. The discovery baffled him.


    ¡®Why is it harder to do less?¡¯


    He focused on the spiritual pathways extending from his glabella ¨C thin threads of energy branching toward each sense. Activating a single pathway was simple; he just had to guide his spirit along one thread. Activating two, however, required splitting his attention, like simultaneously trying to draw a circle with one hand and a square with the other.


    Upon coming to that realisation, it only made him all the more confused about how he was even able to fuse all five senses in the first place ¨C even if only for a moment before passing out.


    In that moment, as he stopped trying to actively control his Spirit, he sensed that it innately wanted to travel down all five paths at once; it was just that his mind couldn¡¯t continuously take in that much information all at once.


    From that, he understood that if he wanted to access that state again, he had to work his way up from being able to simultaneously focus on two separate things to five. At that point, he should be able to actively withstand it.


    Jabari knew he was a long way off. Still, he wasn¡¯t disheartened by it. Now he knew his path of improvement!

 Book 1: Chapter 24 – Kind Words

    The next morning, as Jabari rose and stretched, he was astonished to feel no lingering soreness from the previous day¡¯s trials. He marvelled at the remarkable effects of Heba¡¯s healing abilities.


    After breakfast, the group of five set off once more for the Colosseum. As they walked, Jabari glanced toward Lateef, now knowing the man was a true Beast-Warrior ¨C someone who had passed these very trials in the past.


    ¡°Do you have any advice for today?¡± Jabari asked, curiosity lacing his tone.


    Lateef¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°Experience is one of the most important aspects of combat. Don¡¯t go in today thinking about defeating your opponent ¨C it¡¯s impossible for the current you. Instead, treat this as a chance to gain experience, not just from your fight but also from watching the others. Learn from every move, every mistake.¡±


    Jabari nodded thoughtfully. He knew Lateef¡¯s words came from a place of experience and wisdom. As a boy with no formal training, victory might indeed be a distant dream. Still, as foolish as it may be, surrendering before the fight even started was out of the question for Jabari. No matter what, he was determined to give it his all.


    Upon arriving at the Colosseum, Jabari exchanged goodbyes with Inayah and the others before joining the group of trialists. Most of the children around him still bore bruises and stiff limbs from the reaction test, making him silently thank Heba once more. He also couldn¡¯t help but wonder if the institute had arranged the trial sequence this way on purpose, knowing many participants would be fighting while already injured.


    The low hum of chatter in the waiting area abruptly ceased as a group of roughly 150 youths entered. They strode past the trialists with confidence, heading toward the centre of the arena. Their presence exuded an aura of discipline and superiority.


    Jabari noted their uniforms: similar to the invigilators¡¯, but instead of grey, theirs were white with baby-blue patterns.


    His observations were interrupted when one of the students, a lanky, light-skinned boy who looked around fifteen, veered toward him. The boy¡¯s lips curled into a condescending smirk.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the slum rat who got lucky enough to set a new record yesterday,¡± the boy sneered.


    Jabari met his gaze without flinching. Growing up having to hunt outside the walls of the slums, Jabari had his fair share of run-ins with residents of the main settlement; as such, he¡¯d grown accustomed to such scorn. In the past, he would¡¯ve lowered his eyes and said nothing. But after spending time with Heba and her formidable guards, and after yesterday¡¯s triumph, he no longer felt inferior to these so-called elites.


    ¡°I¡¯m the slum resident who set a new record yesterday,¡± Jabari corrected, voice steady as he maintained eye contact. His calm refusal to accept the insult was clear.


    The boy¡¯s smile twisted with derision. ¡°Slum resident? That¡¯s just a fancy way of saying slum rat. Why not call it what it is? You¡¯re just filth from the slums.¡±


    Jabari arched a brow. ¡°A new record was set by this rat. Doesn¡¯t that mean everyone who scored lower than me is worse than a rat?¡± His voice held an innocent curiosity, but his eyes glimmered with subtle amusement.


    The crowd¡¯s reaction was instant. Trialists and institute students alike turned to the boy with expressions of displeasure.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant!¡± the teen stammered, his bravado faltering as he sensed the shifting mood.


    ¡°What did you mean, then?¡± Jabari asked, tilting his head in mock confusion.


    The teen¡¯s eyes darted around, and as his embarrassment curdled into rage, he lunged forward. His hand shot toward Jabari¡¯s tunic, only to find himself suddenly sprawled on the ground an instant later.


    Stunned, he scrambled to his feet, ready to lash out. But when he saw the figure standing between him and Jabari, his anger cooled into wary hesitation.


    The newcomer was enormous, with broad shoulders and arms like tree trunks. The giant teen fixed the older boy with an unyielding stare.


    The bully¡¯s lip curled as he backed away. ¡°A filthy slum rat isn¡¯t even worth it,¡± he spat, though his voice wavered. He turned to leave, but not before shooting Jabari a venomous glare. ¡°You better hope you don¡¯t end up facing me later.¡±


    Jabari said nothing, but his eyes held steady, and deep within his chest, the fire of resolve burned brighter than ever.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Jabari¡¯s expression remained neutral as he watched his aggressor retreat, but his mind was elsewhere. The boy¡¯s venomous words echoed faintly in his thoughts, only to be replaced by curiosity when he noticed August turning to leave.


    ¡°Thanks for sticking up for me,¡± Jabari called out.


    August, the towering teen who had intervened, gave a slight nod. ¡°I don¡¯t like bullies,¡± he said simply, then turned to go.


    Jabari hesitated before stretching out his hand in what he hoped was a proper handshake ¨C the very gesture he¡¯d seen Lateef use. His fingers wiggled uncertainly as if testing the motion.


    August paused, then accepted the awkward handshake without comment. His grip was firm but fleeting.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± August said suddenly as Jabari winced. ¡°I forget my strength.¡±


    Jabari shook out his hand, offering a rueful grin. ¡°Not surprising, with strength like yours. Your score in the strength test was ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Like your reactions,¡± August replied, voice curt as ever.


    Jabari chuckled at the terse response but took no offence. August didn¡¯t seem rude ¨C just a man of few words. The fact he was speaking to a slum resident like an equal told Jabari enough about his character.


    Before Jabari could continue the conversation, the invigilator¡¯s voice boomed across the Colosseum.


    ¡°Today marks the start of the fourth round of the trials: individual combat.


    "Each of you trialists will face one of the soon-to-be second-year students standing behind me. They¡¯re lined up from weakest to strongest ¨C from left to right.


    "As trialists, you will get to choose your opponent. However, each student can only be selected three times. Additionally, there must be a gap of at least three matches before they can be chosen again.¡±


    Murmurs spread through the gathered children. Jabari¡¯s eyes flicked to the students on the stage, instinctively noting the ones who stood with the most poise.


    The invigilator raised a hand for silence and continued, ¡°Now, for the scoring system.


    "You¡¯ll earn one star if you¡¯re defeated in under a minute, two stars if you last between one and two minutes, three stars if you survive between two and three minutes, and four stars if you endure beyond three minutes before losing. If you manage to win your fight, you¡¯ll receive five stars.¡±


    A collective ripple of tension and anticipation passed through the trialists.


    ¡°Oh, and in case you¡¯re wondering,¡± the invigilator added with a grin, ¡°the record for this test was also set by Prince Zuberi of the Khaldun Tribe, who won his challenge in just three seconds.¡±


    Gasps echoed through the waiting area.


    "Three seconds?" someone whispered.


    "That¡¯s ridiculous!" another voice murmured.


    ¡®How talented must Heba¡¯s brother be to hold the record for three different trials?¡¯ Jabari sighed before realisation struck. ¡®No¡­


    I guess it¡¯s only two records now.¡¯


    ¡°The order of the matches will follow your current star totals, from lowest to highest," the invigilator concluded. "So, first up, we have...¡±


    The trialists around Jabari groaned as their names were called. The average total so far hovered between four and seven stars. With nine points to his name, Jabari realised he¡¯d be among the last to fight.


    He exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. His outstanding performance in the reaction test had earned him this late spot ¨C but unfortunately, that meant fewer choices.


    ''Looks like I¡¯ll have to face one of the stronger ones,'' Jabari thought.


    Jabari¡¯s gaze swept across the line of second-year students until it landed on the boy who had tried to bully him earlier. The teen stood seven places from the right, which meant he ranked seventh in strength among his peers.


    As if sensing Jabari¡¯s attention, the boy turned, locking eyes with him. His lips twisted into a malicious grin as he swiped his thumb across his neck in a crude gesture.


    Jabari regarded the threat with a disinterested glance before shifting his focus elsewhere. His utter lack of reaction only made the older boy¡¯s smirk falter and his eyes narrow in irritation.


    The invigilator''s voice soon broke the tense atmosphere.


    ¡°The first trialist to step forward: Ibrahim of the Uzo Tribe.¡±


    Jabari''s eyes found Ibrahim ¨C a small, wiry boy from the Uzo Tribe¡¯s slums. The child¡¯s shoulders were hunched, and his steps hesitant as he shuffled toward the stage.


    Following the instructions given earlier, Ibrahim walked to the weapon rack beside the stage. He scanned the neatly arranged options, then timidly selected a short wooden sword before joining the invigilator on stage.


    The crowd¡¯s murmurs quieted as Kwame leaned down slightly, his voice gentle. ¡°So, Ibrahim, of the first-years standing before you, who would you like to challenge?¡±


    Ibrahim¡¯s eyes flicked toward the intimidating line of students. Most stood tall and proud, exuding confidence. The boy¡¯s gaze faltered, and his lips pressed together in fear. He lifted a trembling hand and pointed to the student at the far left ¨C the one ranked last.


    The chosen student, a slender youth with sharp features, calmly made his way to the rack. Without hesitation, he selected a straight wooden sword and stepped onto the stage. His posture was relaxed, his grip on the sword loose.


    Kwame raised a hand. ¡°Combatants ready?¡±


    Ibrahim gave a jerky nod, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.


    ¡°Begin!¡±


    The first-year charged forward like a bull, sword raised high. His movements were both fast and refined.


    Ibrahim panicked. His eyes squeezed shut, and he swung blindly, the short sword slicing through empty air.


    A sharp crack echoed through the arena as the first-year¡¯s blade knocked Ibrahim¡¯s sword clean from his grasp. The weapon clattered across the stone floor.


    Ibrahim¡¯s eyes flew open to find the tip of a wooden sword resting lightly against his throat. His breath caught.


    But instead of the sneer or taunt he had braced himself for, the older boy smiled gently. ¡°Don¡¯t let go of your weapon so easily next time,¡± he said softly.


    Then, lowering his sword, the victor turned and strode off the stage.


    Ibrahim remained frozen, wide-eyed. The kindness left him disoriented ¨C he¡¯d prepared himself for humiliation, maybe even injury. But this...


    It definitely took him by surprise.

 Book 1: Chapter 25 – Emmanuel Vs. Ibrahim

    ¡°Students from the slums tend to stick together at the institute,¡± Kwame chuckled upon noticing the young slum-dwellers¡¯ surprise and confusion.


    ¡°You mean he was from the slums too?¡± Ibrahim asked, his voice laced with disbelief.


    Kwame smiled gently. ¡°He was. But now he¡¯s an institute student with a promising future. And if you stick with it tomorrow, you could be too.¡± He turned to the crowd. ¡°Ibrahim of the Uzo Tribe¡¯s Slums: Lost in 6 seconds ¨C 1 star.¡±


    Laughter rippled through the crowd, but Ibrahim barely noticed. His mind raced with the revelation he''d just received. ¡®If others could do it, there¡¯s no reason why I can¡¯t either.¡¯


    Jabari, watching from the sidelines, shared Ibrahim¡¯s surprise. He¡¯d known that a handful of slum-born candidates entered the Beast-Warrior Trials every year, but seeing one in the flesh was different. The boy onstage looked younger than Jabari, yet he''d dismantled Ibrahim effortlessly. After just a year at the institute, the teen was stronger than the enforcer Jabari had fought in the slums ¨C and likely even stronger than the tribe guard who¡¯d tried to kill him. And that was before he¡¯d become a Beast-Warrior.


    The next dozen trialists were all slum-born children, and their inexperience showed. Exhausted and injured from the previous day¡¯s trials and lacking any real combat training, they fell quickly to their opponents. Yet, instead of despair, most of them wore faint smiles as they left the ring.


    Jabari recognised the look. Hope. They''d seen slum-born fighters standing where they now stood and realised that escape from their harsh lives wasn¡¯t a fantasy. It was possible.


    Once the slum trialists finished, the weaker children from the main settlements stepped forward for their turns. Jabari noted the stark difference immediately.


    While the settlement-born children were better fed and better trained, they lacked the desperation he¡¯d seen in the slum-born fighters. The slum children fought through pain, pushing forward even when outmatched ¨C several had to be physically restrained by the invigilator after refusing to yield.


    The battles continued, the level of skill rising incrementally. Jabari observed how some of the stronger trialists began to challenge the weaker first-years, and though a few trialists performed admirably, none had managed a win.


    So far, the highest-scoring trialist had managed seven stars, lasting barely two minutes before succumbing. The matches blurred together until the 180<sup>th</sup> candidate stepped into the ring.


    The boy¡¯s name was Emmanuel, and he hailed from the Jaraki Tribe ¨C a minor tribe with no particular reputation. His frame was lean but solid as he selected a sabre and shield and climbed onto the stage.


    Kwame¡¯s voice cut through the air. ¡°Who would you like to challenge for your combat assessment?¡±


    Emmanuel¡¯s chest rose and fell as he steadied his breathing. He turned and raised his weapon to point at the fifth-ranked first-year.


    ¡°I want to challenge Ibrahim Jaraki!¡±


    A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd. Kwame arched a brow. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Emmanuel answered firmly, his eyes locked onto his chosen opponent.


    The crowd stirred. It was rare for someone to challenge a first-year ranked so highly this early. The surprise was written on everyone¡¯s faces ¨C none more so than Ibrahim himself.


    ¡°Are you sure you want to challenge me?¡± Ibrahim asked, his voice cold and detached as his sharp eyes settled on Emmanuel. ¡°I won¡¯t hold back just because we¡¯re from the same tribe.¡±


    Emmanuel straightened his back and clenched his fists before answering with a boldness that sent a ripple of shock through the crowd. ¡°I¡¯m in love with your sister!¡±


    Gasps erupted from the audience.


    Emmanuel''s jaw tightened, but he pressed on. ¡°The Patriarch knows of my feelings. He said if I can earn at least two stars against you today, he''ll give me her hand in marriage.¡±


    Ibrahim froze. For a moment, it seemed as though he hadn¡¯t heard correctly. His head snapped toward the crowd until his gaze landed on his family. His sister wore a worried expression; his father gave a silent nod of confirmation.


    The tension shattered as Ibrahim burst into laughter ¨C a deep, hearty sound that filled the arena. Still chuckling, he made his way to the weapon rack, retrieving a wooden spear with casual ease. He spun it once in his hand before pointing it directly at Emmanuel.


    ¡°I respect your courage for choosing me,¡± Ibrahim said, his grin fading into a sharp, predatory smirk. ¡°But if you want my sister, you¡¯ll have to prove you''re worthy.¡±


    Kwame raised his hand. ¡°Begin!¡±


    Emmanuel gripped his sabre and shield, watching warily as Ibrahim closed the distance with slow, measured steps. His heart hammered against his ribs, his hands slick with sweat.


    When Ibrahim reached five metres, his body blurred. He lunged forward, spear darting toward Emmanuel¡¯s chest like a lightning bolt.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Emmanuel reacted on instinct, raising his shield in time to block the strike. But the force behind the blow jolted through his entire arm, sending him stumbling backward. He managed to regain his footing after two shaky steps, the impact leaving his forearm numb.


    ¡®He''s a monster,¡¯ Emmanuel thought, breath ragged.


    Before he could recover, Ibrahim attacked again. The spear shot forward, faster than before. Emmanuel once again raised his shield reflexively ¨C too late.


    Crack!


    The spear smashed into the shield, splintering it on impact. Emmanuel staggered ten steps backward, nearly falling over. His sabre trembled in his grip as he looked up to see Ibrahim closing the gap, disdain etched into every feature.


    ¡°How do you plan to protect my sister with strength like this?¡± Ibrahim¡¯s voice was thick with disappointment. He shook his head and advanced without haste.


    Emmanuel''s cheeks burned with shame. His mind screamed at him to surrender, to end the humiliation. But when he thought of Ibrahim¡¯s sister ¨C of the future he wanted ¨C something snapped.


    A guttural roar tore from his throat as he charged forward, sabre raised high. He didn¡¯t care about form, about technique ¨C only the burning resolve to prove himself.


    Ibrahim¡¯s eyes narrowed. His spear flicked out in a blur.


    Thud!


    The wooden tip slammed into Emmanuel¡¯s chest with brutal precision. The force lifted him off the ground, ribs cracking beneath the impact. Emmanuel crumpled to the dirt, gasping for breath as agony tore through his torso.


    Ibrahim turned away with a sigh, assuming the fight was over. So did the crowd.


    But Emmanuel rolled to his knees. His face twisted in pain, his breaths ragged and shallow ¨C but his eyes still burned with defiance.


    Ibrahim stopped mid-stride and glanced back. Surprise flickered across his face before it vanished beneath his usual indifference. ¡®He''s still standing.¡¯


    A quiet nod of approval stirred within him. He turned and walked back toward Emmanuel, stopping two metres away.


    ¡°Pick up your weapons.¡± His tone was flat, but his words sent a fresh wave of shock through the crowd. ¡°If you can stay on your feet after my next strike, you win.¡±


    Murmurs filled the arena. The difference in strength had already been laid bare; most assumed this was nothing more than Ibrahim toying with his opponent.


    Emmanuel¡¯s chest heaved as he staggered toward his discarded weapons. He bent down, groaning as the movement sent fiery pain lancing through his torso. Still, he retrieved the shattered shield and sabre and turned to face Ibrahim.


    Ibrahim shifted into a squat and gripped his spear with both hands.


    A subtle change rippled through the air. The more experienced fighters in the crowd tensed, sensing the shift in his aura. It was as though the carefree boy who''d mocked his opponent moments ago had vanished, replaced by a predator honing in on its prey.


    Emmanuel felt it too. His body trembled ¨C not from mere fear, but from the primal instinct whispering that death would follow if he faltered.


    ¡®One strike,¡¯ he reminded himself. ¡®Just one more strike.¡¯


    Ibrahim¡¯s spear tilted slightly downward, his muscles coiling like a drawn bowstring.


    Then, without warning, he moved.


    Emmanuel, caught in the centre of Ibrahim¡¯s suffocating focus, held his breath without realising it. His chest tightened, the sheer weight of his opponent¡¯s intent pressing down on him like an invisible boulder.


    In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Instinctively, his eyes darted toward Olamide. She stood in the crowd, restrained by her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her anguish was clear ¨C she didn¡¯t want the fight to continue.


    The sight triggered a memory.


    ¡°How do you intend to keep my sister safe with such little strength?¡±


    Emmanuel clenched his jaw as Ibrahim¡¯s disdainful words echoed in his mind.


    ''For you, I won¡¯t lose!'' The thought steadied his heart. He inhaled deeply, forcing his nerves into submission. His grip tightened around the shield as he tossed his sabre aside and raised the shield with both hands, anchoring himself in place.


    Across the stage, Ibrahim''s eyes opened. His gaze sharpened. His muscles coiled.


    Then, without warning, he struck.


    The spear shot forward with terrifying speed. [Thrust] ¨C the simplest, most fundamental spear technique. But when executed with precision and intent, it was nearly impossible to stop.


    The spear tip met the shield with a deafening crack. The moment of impact seemed to freeze in time. Then, both weapons splintered into jagged shards. The force hurled Emmanuel through the air like a broken doll.


    The crowd collectively sucked in a breath as Emmanuel crashed into the ground and lay motionless.


    Kwame stepped forward, raising his arm. ¡°Winner, Ib-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m...


    Not...


    Finished!¡±


    The voice was faint at first ¨C like the buzzing of a distant insect. But with each word, it grew louder, more forceful, until it reverberated through the Colosseum.


    Gasps spread like wildfire as Emmanuel, trembling and pale, forced himself to sit up. Pain contorted his face with every movement, but his eyes remained locked on Ibrahim.


    His hand brushed against something on the ground. The wooden sabre he''d thrown away earlier. He grasped it, using the hilt as a crutch to push himself upright. His legs wobbled beneath him, and his knuckles turned white as he leaned on the sabre for support.


    Still, he stood.


    And the glare he levelled at Ibrahim carried no fear ¨C only defiance.


    Ibrahim¡¯s lips parted in surprise. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.


    ¡°I give up!¡± he declared, slamming the butt of his shattered spear into the stage. ¡°You win!¡±


    With that, Ibrahim turned and descended the steps, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.


    For a moment, no one reacted. Then Emmanuel¡¯s knees buckled, and his body collapsed in a heap.


    Kwame blinked, breaking free from his daze. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. ¡°Emmanuel of the Jaraki Tribe: winner ¨C one minute and one second! Five stars!¡±


    The Colosseum erupted.


    Everyone knew Ibrahim was the stronger of the two. Everyone knew Emmanuel only won because Ibrahim allowed it. But no one cared. The courage, resilience, and sheer stubborn will Emmanuel displayed had won the crowd''s respect. They rose to their feet as one, applauding the unconscious boy with cheers that shook the arena.


    The matches continued, but the energy in the colosseum had shifted.


    The next trialists, most of whom had little combat experience, earned one or two stars at best. None managed to claim three. The gap between the first-year and the trialists became more and more clear with each battle.


    ¡®The institute did this on purpose,¡¯ Jabari realised as he watched the matches unfold. ¡®They want us to see the difference. To show us what¡¯s possible.¡¯


    And it was working. The more he watched, the more his anticipation grew.


    His thoughts were interrupted as Kwame¡¯s voice echoed across the arena.


    ¡°Next: Trialist 207 ¨C Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s Slums ¨C nine stars!¡±


    The crowd stirred with interest. All eyes shifted toward Jabari.


    He exhaled slowly, then stepped forward. ¡®Finally.¡¯

 Book 1: Chapter 26 – Slap!

    Having watched nearly 300 other trialists before him, Jabari strode towards the weapon rack with a calm, measured gait. His decision had already been made long before this moment, and as he reached the racks, he moved without hesitation towards the straight swords. They were light compared to many other weapons, had a decent range, and were relatively simple for beginners to wield. His fingers hovered mere inches from the wooden blade-


    Then, without warning, his spirit surged with excitement.


    Jabari stiffened, his instincts responding before his mind could catch up. Subconsciously, he turned his gaze in the direction his spirit was tugging him towards. That was when he saw it ¨C a wooden glaive resting quietly among the other weapons. His brows furrowed. He hadn¡¯t even considered the glaive before, yet something about it felt oddly right. Without fully understanding why, his hand reached out, grasping the wooden pole.


    The moment his fingers wrapped around its shaft, a wave of calm washed over him. A deep, inexplicable sense of peace and belonging settled in his core.


    ¡®This is it. This is my weapon!¡¯ The certainty struck him like a thunderclap, leaving him momentarily stunned.


    Around him, the crowd buzzed with murmurs, a mix of surprise and barely concealed amusement. Everyone knew that Jabari had grown up in the slums, a place where formal weapon training was practically non-existent. For him to choose a glaive ¨C a weapon with a notoriously high barrier to entry ¨C during a combat assessment that could shape his future?


    It was nothing short of madness.


    Mocking whispers rippled through the audience, but Jabari paid them no mind. His grip on the glaive tightened as he stepped onto the stage, still absorbed in the unfamiliar but undeniable bond he felt with the weapon.


    "Are you sure that¡¯s the weapon you wish to choose?"


    Kwame¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts, drawing his attention away from the wooden polearm in his hands. Jabari looked up to meet the older warrior¡¯s gaze.


    "I¡¯m sure!" he declared without hesitation.


    Kwame studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. What about your opponent? Who would you like to-"


    "Number 7!" Jabari interrupted, pointing directly at the teen who had tried to pick on him earlier.


    A stunned silence filled the air. It was as if the entire arena had misheard him ¨C Kwame included.


    "What was that?" Kwame asked, his expression unreadable.


    "I choose Number 7 as my opponent," Jabari repeated, his voice steady, unconcerned by the disbelief washing over the crowd.


    Chaos erupted.


    "Is this slum brat serious?!"


    "Does he actually think that just because he did well in the reaction test yesterday, he can take on a top ten first-year?"


    "He¡¯s lost his mind! Setting a record must have gone straight to his head!"


    "He¡¯d struggle against most of the trialists here, let alone a genuine first-year ranked in the top ten!"


    The cacophony of voices swelled, but Jabari stood unmoving, his expression unreadable.


    Kwame, however, was watching him closely, a deep frown settling on his face. Like the rest of the audience, he couldn¡¯t help but think Jabari was being reckless. "I suggest you pick another opponent," he advised, his tone carrying a note of sincerity.


    Jabari could tell that Kwame¡¯s words weren¡¯t meant to belittle him ¨C he was offering a way out, a wiser path. But Jabari had already made his decision. It wasn¡¯t arrogance. He knew that, realistically, his best chance at a decent score was to challenge the lowest-ranked first-year available ¨C someone in the fifties. Even then, he would likely lose.


    And yet, something deep inside him refused to step back.


    It wasn¡¯t about strategy anymore. It wasn¡¯t even about proving himself. No ¨C something told him that if he backed down now, if he allowed himself to be cowed by Number 7¡¯s earlier provocation, he would lose something far greater than a match. He would lose a part of himself that he might never reclaim.


    "Thank you," Jabari said, his voice polite yet unwavering, "but I¡¯ve made my decision."


    Kwame studied Jabari¡¯s expression carefully. The boy was resolute ¨C unshaken, unwavering. Seeing that there was no point in trying to dissuade him, Kwame exhaled quietly before turning his gaze to the crowd.


    ¡°Amadi, come on stage. You¡¯ve been chosen as the opponent for this match.¡±


    A ripple of excitement passed through the spectators as Amadi ¨C Number 7 ¨C processed what had just happened. For a moment, he was stunned, unable to believe that the little rat he had mocked earlier was genuinely foolish enough to challenge him. Then, as the reality of the situation sank in, a wicked grin stretched across his face.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Amadi licked his lips, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. Without hesitation, he strode onto the stage, a wooden short sword resting easily in his hand. His steps were confident, his smirk widening when he noticed Jabari¡¯s peculiar stance.


    Then he saw it ¨C the way Jabari was studying the glaive, almost mesmerised.


    Amadi couldn¡¯t help himself. He laughed. Loud and mocking.


    ¡°Forget wielding one ¨C have you ever even seen a glaive before?¡± he jeered.


    Jabari stood with the weapon resting against the floor, his hands gripping the base of the shaft. He hardly seemed to register Amadi¡¯s words.


    ¡°Huh? What was that?¡± Jabari asked absentmindedly, his focus never leaving the weapon in his hands. The warmth it radiated, the quiet sense of familiarity it carried ¨C it was like reuniting with an old, cherished friend.


    The moment felt¡­


    Right.


    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Jabari finally recalled Amadi¡¯s taunt. ¡°No, I¡¯ve never seen one before,¡± he admitted simply, his tone devoid of shame or hesitation.


    The crowd gasped. Some scoffed. Others outright laughed.


    Amadi, on the other hand, bristled. He saw Jabari¡¯s indifference as an insult, his lips curling in irritation.


    But Jabari paid him no mind. His fingers ran along the wooden shaft as he whispered, ¡°So, you¡¯re called a glaive, huh?¡± There was an odd reverence in his voice, as if he were speaking to a living entity rather than an inanimate weapon.


    Kwame, sensing Amadi¡¯s growing fury, quickly intervened. ¡°Both fighters, take your positions!¡± he commanded. The last thing Jabari needed was to make things harder for himself.


    Jabari obeyed, stepping back and adjusting his grip on the glaive. The way he held it ¨C both hands gripping the base like a baseball bat ¨C was enough to make the spectators erupt into laughter.


    Amadi was openly smirking now. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be joking,¡± he muttered.


    To any trained fighter, Jabari¡¯s stance was a disaster. His form was clumsy, completely unsuited for the weapon he held. It should have been embarrassing.


    And yet¡­


    Kwame narrowed his eyes.


    Despite his glaring technical flaws, Jabari¡¯s presence exuded something unexpected.


    Calm.


    Focus.


    It was a strange contradiction ¨C his stance was abysmal, but his state of mind was flawless.


    Kwame frowned, shaking the thought from his mind. ¡®I must be imagining things.¡¯


    Raising his hand, he signalled for the match to begin.


    The instant his hand dropped, both boys surged forward.


    Jabari knew he was outmatched in every possible way. Strength, speed, skill ¨C Amadi dwarfed him in all of them. If he had any hope of defying the odds, it would be by seizing the momentum and keeping his opponent on the defensive.


    The moment the fight began, Jabari activated his spirit-enhanced vision. Time seemed to slow as Amadi rushed toward him, and without hesitation, Jabari swung his glaive with all his might ¨C like a man wielding a baseball bat in a desperate home-run attempt.


    The sheer ferocity of the attack caught Amadi off guard. His eyes widened in surprise as he instinctively abandoned his charge, leaping back rather than trying to block the incoming glaive with his short sword.


    That was exactly what Jabari wanted.


    With his vision sharpening every movement, Jabari saw Amadi tense, preparing to retreat ¨C so he surged forward before his opponent could even fully react.


    The battle¡¯s rhythm shifted in an instant. Jabari¡¯s glaive came crashing down again and again, each strike relentless, each swing forcing Amadi to dodge repeatedly. From an outsider¡¯s perspective, it looked as if Jabari had taken control, pushing his opponent back and dictating the fight¡¯s pace.


    Many among the crowd gasped in astonishment.


    ¡°He¡¯s actually forcing Amadi back!¡±


    ¡°Is this slum brat really dominating the fight?!¡±


    But the veterans among the spectators remained silent.


    They saw the truth.


    ''He can¡¯t keep this up for long. The moment he slows down, it¡¯s over.¡¯ Kwame sighed inwardly, watching with the knowing eyes of an experienced warrior.


    Amadi wasn¡¯t struggling ¨C he was waiting. Effortlessly sidestepping each wild swing, he showed no panic, no urgency. He knew his moment would come.


    And so did Jabari.


    He wasn¡¯t delusional ¨C he understood the reality of the fight better than anyone. Every desperate strike was a plea for a miracle, his only chance against a superior foe.


    But he could already feel it.


    The weight of the glaive, a solid five kilograms, was beginning to take its toll. His swings grew slower, his arms heavier. Not even twenty seconds had passed, and his body was already betraying him.


    Amadi¡¯s eyes flashed with anticipation.


    Jabari swung again ¨C wild, sluggish. Amadi dodged effortlessly and took a step forward, closing the distance-


    Then, something made his instincts scream.


    A chill ran down Amadi¡¯s spine as the hairs on his neck stood on end.


    ¡°YAAAH!¡±


    Jabari roared as he threw every last ounce of strength into one final, desperate swing.


    The glaive whistled through the air, faster, wilder, stronger than any strike before. Amadi¡¯s pupils shrank. He had already stepped forward, convinced Jabari was spent. Now, with the attack barrelling toward him at breakneck speed, there was no time to retreat.


    For a fleeting moment, Jabari¡¯s heart surged with hope. His weapon was closing in ¨C mere inches from slamming into the side of Amadi¡¯s head.


    But it still wasn¡¯t enough.


    At the last possible instant, Amadi ducked, the glaive missing him by a hair¡¯s breadth.


    Jabari¡¯s attack had been so powerful, the momentum carried him forward, spinning his body around ¨C exposing his back to his opponent.


    Amadi grinned.


    A golden opportunity had just fallen into his lap.


    With a flash of malice, he lunged, driving his short sword straight for the back of Jabari¡¯s neck.


    The crowd held its breath.


    It was over.


    Or so they thought.


    In that moment of certainty, Jabari reminded everyone why they had been so captivated by him in the first place.


    With reflexes bordering on the divine, Jabari twisted his neck at the last second, the wooden blade narrowly missing its mark. The momentum from his previous attack carried his spin, and even though his glaive was too long to strike at close range-


    SMACK!


    A crisp, resounding slap echoed through the arena.


    Gasps filled the air as Jabari¡¯s open palm struck Amadi clean across the face. The force of the unexpected blow sent Amadi stumbling, his head snapping to the side.


    Before anyone could process what had happened, Jabari leapt back, finally putting distance between them. He gripped his glaive tightly, panting heavily as he struggled to catch his breath.


    Across from him, Amadi stood frozen, his hand slowly rising to his cheek.


    The shock in his eyes was unmistakable.


    Jabari had just slapped him.


    In front of everyone.


    For a long moment, Amadi simply stared, his mind struggling to accept reality.


    Then his expression warped.


    ¡°I¡¯M GOING TO KILL YOU!¡± he roared, his eyes burning with unrestrained fury.

 Book 1: Chapter 27 – Domineering Display

    ¡°I¡¯M GOING TO KILL YOU!¡± Amadi roared, his eyes burning red with fury.


    Jabari knew he had no more time.


    Gripping his glaive once more like a bat, he reactivated his spirit-enhanced vision, and the world around him slow. Every detail sharpened ¨C every movement of his opponent, every breath, every twitch of a muscle.


    Then, something strange happened. His eyes glazed over.


    A memory surfaced ¨C clear as day.


    Ibrahim Jaraki ¨C the first-year ranked fifth.


    He recalled the simple yet devastating [Spear Thrust] Ibrahim had used in the previous match. It was an elementary move, yet brutally effective.


    ¡®The glaive isn¡¯t a spear...¡¯ Jabari subconsciously mused. ¡®But the principle should remain the same.¡¯


    Under the watchful, puzzled gazes of the spectators, he shifted his stance. He bent his knees, grounding himself lower to the earth. His right leg bore most of his weight, his left adjusting to balance. His right hand gripped the glaive¡¯s base while his left moved to the centre of the shaft.


    His breathing steadied. His focus narrowed.


    His prey was coming straight to him.


    Amadi stormed forward, all reason lost to rage, then-


    The moment he entered range, Jabari exploded into action.


    With a sudden, controlled burst of power, he pushed off with his right leg and thrust his glaive forward ¨C straight for Amadi¡¯s throat.


    A shiver ran down Amadi¡¯s spine.


    For the first time in the match, he felt real fear.


    That bone-deep, primal instinct ¨C the one that warned warriors of impending danger ¨C flared inside him. It snapped him out of his blind fury just in time.


    His pupils shrank as he caught sight of the glaive¡¯s tip racing toward him.


    Pure instinct took over.


    Clang!


    Amadi twisted, parrying the strike at the last possible moment, shifting his body just enough to avoid the lethal thrust.


    Jabari¡¯s eyes widened ¨C he had missed!


    Before he could even pull his weapon back, Amadi retaliated with brutal precision.


    With all his strength, he slashed at Jabari¡¯s throat, aiming to end the fight before there could be any more surprises.


    Every fibre of Jabari¡¯s body screamed at him. Warning him that he needed to move. Unfortunately, despite easily being able to follow the strike, his body wasn¡¯t able to keep up with his perception ¨C he couldn¡¯t dodge this one.


    Instead, he did the only thing he could. He leaned back slightly, raising his shoulder to absorb the impact.


    CRACK!


    The force of the short sword¡¯s blow sent shockwaves through his body.


    Despite the weapon¡¯s small size, the sheer force behind the strike was enough to send Jabari flying.


    The crowd gasped as his body tumbled across the stage, rolling several metres before skidding to a stop.


    Jabari barely had time to register the pain before he heard the thunderous footsteps of his charging opponent.


    ¡°JUST DIE ALREADY!¡±


    He instinctively tensed, bracing himself for the beating of his life-


    Then he heard something else.


    A muffled groan.


    Confused, Jabari turned his gaze back toward Amadi.


    His opponent had stopped mid-strike. His face twisted in frustration as he tried to move his weapon-


    But it wasn¡¯t budging.


    The reason?


    The invigilator.


    Kwame stood between them, gripping the tip of Amadi¡¯s short sword between his thumb and index finger, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°This is a spar,¡± Kwame said coldly. ¡°Not a fight to the death. Get down.¡±


    Silence swallowed the arena.


    Amadi clenched his jaw, his fists trembling with unreleased fury. But under Kwame¡¯s piercing gaze, he had no choice.


    He yanked his weapon free and stormed off, throwing one last glare at Jabari before returning his wooden sword to the rack.


    Kwame exhaled through his nose before turning his attention to Jabari, who was still sprawled on the ground.


    ¡°What is it with you and dislocating your shoulders?¡± he muttered as he knelt beside him.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Jabari smiled wryly, about to respond when-


    POP!


    Jabari¡¯s face barely reacted as Kwame casually snapped his shoulder back into place.


    Kwame rose to his feet.


    ¡°Jabari of the Khaldun Tribe¡¯s slums ¨C lost in 57 seconds. One star.¡±


    Hearing his results, Jabari could only manage a bitter smile. To him, the fight had felt like it lasted at least ten minutes. He had genuinely believed that, even if he didn¡¯t earn three or four stars, he would at least be awarded two.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said politely to Kwame, the invigilator who had just saved him from what could have been a devastating injury. With that, he turned and walked toward the glaive he had dropped when he was sent flying.


    The moment his fingers wrapped around the wooden shaft, he hesitated.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he murmured sincerely, lifting the weapon once more.


    The crowd fell into stunned silence.


    Had he been hit too hard? Was he actually apologising to a wooden weapon?


    But for Jabari, the emotion was real. He felt as though he had let the glaive down. He had performed miserably, lost in under a minute, and worst of all ¨C he had dropped it. The sensation of guilt gnawed at him, even though he couldn¡¯t quite explain why.


    Kwame, watching from the sidelines, stroked his chin thoughtfully.


    ¡®This kid¡­


    His reactions are incredible, but his perception is where he truly shines. First, he copied Danso¡¯s lifting technique. Then Chantelle¡¯s footwork. And now Ibrahim¡¯s spearmanship...¡¯


    Kwame¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡®That last spear thrust ¨C though not perfect ¨C was remarkable for a complete novice. It would take most people several months of diligent practice to reach that level¡­


    This is the kind of talent we need.¡¯


    As Jabari walked off the stage, the other trialists eyed him, whispering among themselves.


    The other slum kids murmured in awe, calling his performance impressive despite his loss. But the children from the main settlements were far less kind.


    ¡°His form was terrible.¡±


    ¡°He was too arrogant, picking someone in the top ten.¡±


    ¡°Good reflexes don¡¯t make you a good warrior.¡±


    Jabari heard every word. Even without activating his spirit-enhanced hearing, his senses were sharp enough to pick up their hushed conversations. But none of it mattered.


    This fight ¨C among other things ¨C was a painful reminder of how large the gulf between him and Oluwa was.


    The next few fights were far more intense, as only the strongest trialists remained.


    Chidi of the Nuwanu Tribe lasted over six minutes against his opponent before finally losing ¨C an impressive feat that earned him four stars.


    Chantelle, on the other hand, showcased exceptional footwork and swordsmanship. She wielded a wooden rapier with graceful precision, weaving around her opponent ¨C ranked 18<sup>th</sup> ¨C striking only when she was sure. Her patience paid off, and after wearing her opponent down, she claimed victory in just over five minutes.


    Danso was a different story entirely.


    Wielding a massive war hammer, he overwhelmed his opponent from the very start, his raw strength and relentless aggression leaving no room for retaliation. His opponent barely lasted two minutes before succumbing to the onslaught.


    But the trialist who impressed Jabari the most was Azurian from the Shura Tribe.


    Wielding a curved sabre in each hand, Azurian¡¯s twin-blade technique was nothing short of breathtaking. His movements were fluid, fast, and powerful, but what truly stood out was how independently his swords moved ¨C almost as if two separate warriors were wielding them whilst still working in unison. His opponent, ranked 10th among the first-years, never stood a chance. The fight was over in just 52 seconds.


    Watching that battle, a revelation struck Jabari like a hammer to the chest.


    Raw physical ability wasn¡¯t enough.


    If he wanted to stand among the elite, true mastery of his chosen weapon was just as ¨C if not more ¨C important.


    The next candidate called onto the stage was August.


    The moment his name was announced, the entire arena fell into a tense silence. Trialists, students, spectators, and even the invigilators all fixed their eyes on him. August was one of the two favourites to claim the top rank in the trials ¨C everyone wanted to see what he was capable of.


    As he made his way to the stage, he stopped at the weapon rack, scanning the selection without a hint of urgency. Then, he reached for the largest twin-sided battle axe available.


    It was a monstrous weapon, nearly four feet tall, its blade alone larger than Jabari¡¯s entire torso.


    August swung it a few times with effortless ease, testing its weight. Then, with a slight frown, he muttered, ¡°Too light.¡±


    A ripple of disbelief spread through the audience.


    Turning to Kwame, he asked, ¡°Anything heavier?¡±


    Kwame could only shake his head helplessly.


    With no other option, August sighed and stepped onto the stage, wielding what he considered a lightweight battle axe.


    When August reached the centre of the stage, Kwame addressed him. ¡°Who would you like to choose as your opponent?¡±


    Without saying a word, August raised his hand and pointed towards the first-year students.


    All eyes followed his gesture.


    A hushed murmur spread through the crowd as they realised exactly who he was pointing at-


    Amadi.


    The first-year ranked 7th. The same first-year who had defeated Jabari earlier.


    Confusion flickered through the audience.


    ¡°Why would he choose Number 7?¡±


    ¡°If he wanted to show off, he should¡¯ve picked someone from the top three.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and if he wanted an easy win, there are still plenty of weaker first-years left.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they have a history?¡±


    Speculation ran rampant, but those who had witnessed Jabari¡¯s earlier clash with Amadi understood immediately ¨C this wasn¡¯t random. August was retaliating on Jabari¡¯s behalf.


    What they didn¡¯t understand was why.


    Why would someone like August ¨C a direct descendant of the Asare Tribe ¨C go out of his way to settle a score for a slum-born trialist?


    Meanwhile, Amadi, now returning to the stage for the second time that day, did his best to mask his unease with cold indifference. But the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.


    ¡°Is there really any need to go this far for an irrelevant slum rat?¡± he muttered.


    August didn¡¯t react. He simply stood there, battle axe resting lazily on his shoulder, his expression unreadable.


    Yet, his silence only made the pressure worse.


    Amadi took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.


    ¡®Even if he¡¯s a direct descendant of one of the Asare, I refuse to believe I can¡¯t win. He¡¯s just a trialist, whilst I¡¯ve trained for a year under the institute¡¯s gruelling regimen.¡¯


    Kwame glanced between the two warriors before signalling the start of the match.


    ¡°Begin!¡±


    Amadi moved instantly.


    Unlike his fight with Jabari, there was no arrogance in his approach this time ¨C only ruthless focus. His cold, disciplined expression made it clear: he was taking this fight seriously.


    August, however, didn¡¯t move.


    He remained perfectly still, as if he hadn¡¯t even noticed Amadi charging straight at him.


    The crowd watched with bated breath.


    Then-


    Just as Amadi stepped into range, August finally made his move.


    The battle axe came down.


    A single, devastating swing.


    The air itself seemed to split as the massive blade carved through the space between them.


    Amadi¡¯s instincts screamed.


    His pupils constricted to pinpricks as raw terror flooded his body. He hadn¡¯t even felt the impact yet, but instinctively, he knew what was coming.


    He tried to stop.


    He tried to dodge.


    But August¡¯s attack was too fast.


    Amadi barely had time to raise his short sword in a desperate attempt to block-


    CRACK!


    His wooden blade snapped like a twig.


    The sheer force of the impact split the webbing of his palm, sending his now-useless weapon flying from his grip. The recoil sent him staggering backwards-


    And then-


    A palm smashed into his face.


    The force spun him in a full 180 before he crashed onto his back, dazed and disoriented.


    Before he could even register what had happened, he felt the cold press of wood against his neck.


    The arena was deathly silent until¡­


    Kwame¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°August Owusu of the Owusu Tribe ¨C victory in 7 seconds. Five stars.¡±

 Book 1: Chapter 28 – The Final Test

    Everyone had expected August to win, but no one had anticipated such an effortless victory. After all, Amadi was ranked among the top ten strongest warriors of the first-years. For August to dismantle him in under ten seconds was nothing short of astonishing.


    It was unclear who started it, but within moments, the entire crowd erupted into a standing ovation, their cheers echoing through the arena. The young Owusu warrior had claimed victory in the most decisive and dominant fashion possible.


    Once the results were officially declared, August calmly returned his axe to the stands and took his place among the other candidates, his expression unreadable, seemingly indifferent to the awestruck gazes and murmurs surrounding him.


    "Thank you," Jabari said sincerely as he stepped in front of the towering teen, convinced that August had done it for his sake.


    "I don¡¯t like bullies," August replied simply, then shut his eyes, shutting out the world along with them.


    Jabari opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden chill crawled down his spine. Instinctively turning around, he locked eyes with Amadi, whose face was twisted with rage and humiliation. His glare burned with murderous intent.


    Had they not been in a crowded arena, Jabari had no doubt that Amadi would have attempted to kill him on the spot. The defeated warrior seethed, blaming Jabari for every ounce of disgrace he had suffered ¨C losing their verbal spar, struggling far more than he should have in their duel ¨C even suffering a mortifying slap ¨C and now being utterly crushed by August in front of everyone.


    Jabari¡¯s spirit ability didn¡¯t allow him to read minds, but he could still read what was running through Amadi¡¯s mind with perfect clarity. But instead of fear, he felt only a desperate hunger to grow stronger.


    Whilst Jabari was lost in his thoughts, the final name was called.


    "Jamal Marley from the Shura Tribe."


    The young warrior strode toward the stage with an air of unwavering confidence, his sharp gaze locking onto August. The message in his eyes was clear: Whatever you can do, I can do better!


    August, however, barely spared him a glance ¨C just the briefest flicker of acknowledgement before he closed his eyes again, wholly uninterested.


    Jamal scoffed before turning his focus to the weapon rack, selecting a wooden sabre. Without waiting for formalities, he coldly declared, "I choose number six as my opponent!"


    Kwame, the overseer, barely had a chance to speak before Jamal made his choice. The teen''s impatience was evident.


    Kwame studied Jamal for a moment, then shifted his gaze toward August. A knowing glint flashed in his eyes.


    With a nod, he turned to the sixth-ranked first-year.


    The intent behind Jamal''s choice was obvious to everyone present. He was making a statement. By selecting the warrior ranked just one place above Amadi ¨C the opponent August had obliterated ¨C he intended to prove his superiority. And more than that, he likely aimed to do it in under seven seconds.


    His opponent was a lanky boy, nearly as tall as August but significantly leaner. Without hesitation, he selected a scimitar from the rack, gripping it firmly. Though young, his expression was unreadable, his focus razor-sharp. He knew better than to underestimate Jamal.


    The tension in the air thickened.


    The match was about to begin.


    The moment the match began, Jabari¡¯s breath caught in his throat. Jamal exploded forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, his speed blinding. But that wasn¡¯t the most shocking part ¨C no, it was what happened the instant he reached striking range.


    Jamal¡¯s sabre blurred, slicing through the air toward the lanky youth¡¯s neck with lethal precision.


    Yet, in a testament to his ranking, the lanky youth reacted just in time. His scimitar clashed against Jamal¡¯s sabre in a desperate parry before launching a counterattack of his own. But before his blade had even travelled half the intended distance, his pupils shrank to pinholes.


    As fast as Jamal¡¯s running speed was, the speed of his attacks were something else entirely. It was monstrous ¨C far beyond what even a first-year student should possess. Though his first strike had been deflected, his second was already upon his opponent, forcing the lanky youth into a purely defensive stance.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Wood clashed furiously as the boys exchanged rapid blows ¨C multiple strikes per second, each one precise, each one deadly. But it was clear who held the upper hand. Jamal pressed forward relentlessly, suffocating his opponent with his overwhelming pace. The lanky youth barely had a moment to breathe, let alone counterattack.


    The audience watched in breathless anticipation. The outcome was already decided ¨C Jamal would win. The only question on everyone¡¯s mind was, how fast? Would he be able to achieve victory in under seven seconds?


    And then it happened.


    The lanky youth faltered, his body half a beat too slow. Before he could react, Jamal¡¯s sabre rested coldly against his neck.


    Yet, Jamal wasn¡¯t even looking at him. His eyes were already on the invigilator, his expression impatient.


    ¡°Jamal Marley of the Shura Tribe¡ªeleven seconds, five st-¡±


    ¡°FOR FUCK¡¯S SAKE!¡± Jamal roared in frustration. His face twisted with barely contained fury. Despite his best efforts, he had fallen short by four seconds.


    The crowd still applauded, awed by his display of skill, but Jamal ignored them entirely. Without another word, he stormed off the stage, seething.


    Kwame waited a beat before addressing the gathered trialists.


    ¡°That concludes the fourth round of the Trials. Congratulations on making it through another day. Tomorrow marks the final trial, so get as much rest as you can ¨C it may well determine your futures.¡±


    Jabari said nothing as he left the grounds with Inayah and the others. The group of five walked in silence, none of them daring to disturb him. Even Inayah, usually the first to speak, kept her thoughts to herself.


    They all knew Jabari had a lot on his mind.


    As they neared the inn, he finally exhaled a helpless sigh.


    ¡°If the gap between me and those first-years is already this big, just how massive is the gap between me and Oluwa?¡±


    Heba¡¯s voice was calm but firm. ¡°I warned you ¨C your goal is virtually impossible.¡±


    She let the words settle before softening slightly. ¡°But don¡¯t dwell on that right now. Focus on tomorrow¡¯s trial. It¡¯s the only one that¡¯s a straight pass or fail, and it¡¯s also the most important to the institute. If you perform well enough, they¡¯ll invest more into your training and development.¡±


    Jabari caught onto her wording immediately. ¡°What do you mean by ¡®well enough¡¯?¡±


    Heba didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°At least five stars.¡±


    Jabari stiffened.


    Seeing his reaction, Heba continued, unflinching. ¡°In past selections, there have been plenty of five-star performances in the first four trials. But when it comes to the fifth trial...


    To this day, fewer than ten people have ever achieved five stars.¡±


    She didn¡¯t offer words of encouragement. She didn¡¯t sugarcoat the truth.


    Because she knew ¨C this was something Jabari had to face on his own.


    That night, even without the torment of his recurring nightmare, Jabari barely slept. He tossed and turned, his mind consumed by the weight of tomorrow¡¯s trial. This was it ¨C the final test. He needed to do well, not just for himself but for Inayah too.


    By the time morning arrived, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. As he descended the stairs, the dark circles under his eyes made it clear that he hadn¡¯t rested, but there was something else in his gaze ¨C something even Inayah had never seen before.


    A quiet, unshakable resolve.


    Once again, the journey to the trial grounds was made in silence. But Heba, watching Jabari closely, allowed herself a faint smile. ¡®Will he surprise me again today?¡¯


    When they arrived, Jabari stood alone among the gathered trialists and first-years, his mind still.


    He didn¡¯t care about the sporadic looks he received from several of his fellow trialists. He didn¡¯t care that the first-years appeared to be taking part in this trial alongside him and the other trialists. Nor did he care that Amadi¡¯s deathly glare was trained solely on him.


    In that moment, the only thing Jabari cared about was the trial itself. Today was the most important day of his life to date, and he refused to accept any result shy of perfection!


    Around him, the air buzzed with anticipation. The audience murmured excitedly, speculating on the outcome of the final trial.


    Then, the invigilator arrived.


    Kwame''s voice carried effortlessly over the noise. ¡°Welcome to the fifth and final assessment of this year¡¯s Beast-Warrior trials. This last test consists of two parts. The first is a warm-up ¨C you will run to the academy, which is ten miles away. Along the route, several deacons, dressed identically to me, will be stationed to guide you in the right direction.


    "Keep in mind that this test is pass or fail. No matter what happens, do not stop moving. Stay ahead of me at all costs.¡±


    Without another word, Kwame took a slow step forward.


    Jabari frowned, confused. The other slum residents exchanged uncertain glances, struggling to understand what was happening.


    Then, movement.


    The trialists and first-years suddenly bolted in the opposite direction.


    Realisation struck like a lightning bolt ¨C the test had already begun.


    Jabari and the other slum youths reacted a beat later, scrambling to follow. None of them dared to be last. None of them dared to risk failing after coming this far.


    Glancing over his shoulder, Jabari saw Kwame had also begun running. His pace wasn¡¯t particularly fast ¨C just a leisurely jog ¨C but instinct told Jabari that underestimating him would be a grave mistake.


    He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, quickening his strides. The farther he could get from Kwame, the safer he would be.


    A mile passed, and the difference between himself, the other slum youths, and the children from the main settlements became painfully clear.


    Jabari led the slum residents, but only by about twenty metres. Meanwhile, the slowest of the main settlement children was already so far ahead that he couldn¡¯t even see their back.


    Frustration gnawed at him, but he didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it. Looking back, his eyes widened.


    Kwame was still casually jogging, ahead of him, a young girl gasped for air, her legs trembling. She came to a stop, hands on her knees, desperate for a moment¡¯s reprieve.


    Kwame didn¡¯t even slow as he passed her.


    ¡°Kiara ¨C fail. Turn around and head back the way you came.¡±


    His tone was indifferent, absolute.


    The girl¡¯s face paled in horror, but there was nothing she could do. The trial did not make exceptions.

 Book 1: Chapter 29 – Hell’s Stairway

    Hearing Kwame¡¯s cold declaration, Jabari and the other slum residents ahead of him instinctively quickened their pace, their fear of failure outweighing their exhaustion.


    By the time they reached the three-and-a-half-mile mark, Jabari was breathing heavily. Though he was accustomed to hunting alone, the sheer endurance required for this test was taking its toll. Still, he had managed to put some distance between himself, the other slum residents, and, most importantly, Kwame.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    No matter how hard he pushed, the children from the main settlements were nowhere in sight. Not even their shadows remained on the horizon. Frustration gnawed at him. His body was simply too malnourished ¨C too weak compared to the others.


    Glancing behind him, he noticed that only one person was remotely close: a dark-skinned girl with a wide yet wiry frame, long, matted curly black hair, and a determined expression.


    Malia.


    He remembered her. She was the only slum resident who had managed to score two stars on the strength test, barely lifting 55kg ¨C surpassing even his own score despite her obvious malnourishment. It was clear she possessed natural strength, but her harsh upbringing had prevented her from unlocking her true potential.


    Looking behind her, Jabari noticed that, of the original dozen or so slum youths who had started the trial, only seven remained. The others had failed ¨C forced to turn back the moment they stopped running.


    What was strange, though, was that many of the remaining slum residents had slowed down significantly, and Kwame had yet to pass them. It was almost as if he was deliberately matching their pace, only overtaking them if they came to a complete stop.


    Jabari¡¯s suspicion was confirmed moments later.


    Ibrahim, the youngest of the slum residents, was barely holding on. His legs wobbled, his breath came in ragged gasps, and eventually, he had no choice but to slow to a brisk walk.


    Jabari¡¯s eyes narrowed as he watched Kwame do something unexpected ¨C he adjusted his pace to match Ibrahim¡¯s precisely, making no move to eliminate him.


    A few metres ahead, another slum youth took notice of this. Seeing that Kwame wasn¡¯t disqualifying Ibrahim despite his slowed pace, he assumed it was safe to rest briefly. He stopped to catch his breath, intending to wait until Ibrahim got close before starting again ¨C a mistake that proved fatal.


    Kwame¡¯s voice rang out, cold and absolute.


    ¡°Brian ¨C fail. Turn around and head back the way you came.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?! That¡¯s not fair! I¡¯m not even in last pl-¡± Brian started to protest, but the moment he met Kwame¡¯s icy glare, the words died in his throat.


    Without another sound, he turned and sprinted back toward the arena, his face red with humiliation.


    Jabari had seen and heard everything, his spirit-enhanced senses capturing every detail.


    ¡®Either we¡¯ll pass as long as we don¡¯t come to a complete stop ¨C which makes sense since the average malnourished slum resident wouldn¡¯t be able to run ten miles straight ¨C or he¡¯s making an exception for Ibrahim for some reason,¡¯ he thought to himself.


    He leaned toward the first theory, but he wasn¡¯t about to test it. There was too much at stake. All he could do now was push forward with everything he had.


    At the five-mile mark, Malia began to slow, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But Jabari could see the fire in her eyes ¨C she refused to give up.


    By the eighth mile, Jabari was barely holding on. His lungs burned, his legs felt like they were encased in lead, but he didn¡¯t dare slow down. He pushed forward with sheer willpower, refusing to succumb to exhaustion.


    Then came the ninth mile.


    His vision blurred, his strides faltered, and for the first time, doubt crept in. His body was screaming at him to stop.


    And then he saw it.


    Oluwa¡¯s face!


    Smirking at him!


    Jabari knew it was just a hallucination, but that didn¡¯t matter. That smug, condescending expression ignited something deep within him, something primal ¨C wrath!


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep running.


    Half a mile later, another wall slammed into him. Even so, the flames in his eyes burned bright.


    He refused to lose to Oluwa ¨C even if it was just a figment of his imagination.


    By the time he neared the finish line, he was running on pure fumes. Every step was agony, every breath a battle, but he didn¡¯t stop.


    He barely noticed the other deacons watching him from just meters away. The other children from the main settlements had long since finished and now stood watching as he stumbled toward the line, barely conscious.


    As soon as he crossed the finish line, his body gave out. Darkness rushed in, but before he hit the ground, strong hands caught him.


    August, the giant teen eased Jabari down into the shade, his usual stoic expression replaced with something unreadable.


    Jabari¡¯s vision wavered, but his mind clung to one desperate thought.


    ¡°Did I¡­


    Pass?¡± His voice was weak, his body tense with fear of the answer.


    August nodded once.


    Jabari exhaled a shaky breath. Relief washed over him, and at last, he allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness.


    When he finally stirred thirty minutes later, the first thing his eyes landed on was something surreal ¨C a colossal stairway stretching endlessly into the sky. Each step was a massive floating platform, easily 100 by 100 meters, its surface etched with glowing runes pulsing with ethereal , ancient energy.


    ¡°What did I miss?¡± Jabari asked groggily as he sat up, rubbing his temples.


    August sat a few meters away, his back against a tree, arms crossed in his usual silent manner. Without shifting his gaze, he answered, ¡°Nothing. We¡¯re waiting for the last to finish.¡±


    Following August¡¯s gaze, Jabari turned toward the finish line.


    There, dragging his feet forward in a weary run-walk, was Ibrahim. The young slum resident swayed on his feet, fighting to stay awake.


    Not far behind him was Kwame.


    The head invigilator was still matching Ibrahim¡¯s pace, walking calmly behind him, as if he had all the time in the world.


    Jabari frowned. ¡°What are the actual rules for the run?¡±


    August didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°The invigilator matches the pace of the slowest trialist. As long as you don¡¯t stop running, you pass ¨C no matter how slow you go.¡±


    Jabari¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Did everyone already know that, or were you told after crossing the finish line?¡±


    August shrugged. ¡°Already knew.¡±


    Jabari said nothing, but deep down, frustration bubbled.


    "The institute tends to hold slum children to a higher standard," August said, noticing the flicker of bitterness in Jabari¡¯s expression.


    Jabari frowned, unable to understand why.


    Before he could ask, August continued, his tone as steady as ever. "Though there aren¡¯t many of you each year, every slum child who passes the trials receives far more attention than the average child from the main settlements."


    That only deepened Jabari¡¯s confusion. "What? Why?!"


    "Two reasons," August stated plainly. "First, because of your harsh upbringing, the willpower of those from the slums is often superior to that of children raised in the main settlements."


    Jabari thought about life in the slums ¨C the hunger, the lack of shelter, the constant struggle for survival. He could only nod. That kind of suffering tempered the mind in ways comfort never could.


    "The second, and arguably more important reason," August continued, "is loyalty. Most children raised in the main settlements return to their tribes upon graduation. However, those from the slums tend to lack any real attachment to the tribes that left them to suffer."


    Jabari¡¯s brows furrowed as he absorbed that information.


    "Because of that," August added, "and because of the appreciation they feel toward the institute ¨C the organisation that gave them a way out ¨C it¡¯s no surprise that many Beast-Warriors born in the slums choose to stay, becoming permanent members of staff."


    Something suddenly clicked in Jabari¡¯s mind. ¡®The reason he was being so helpful to me and the other slum kids¡­¡¯ His gaze flickered toward Kwame, a new realisation settling over him. ¡®Was Kwame formerly from the slums, too?¡¯


    It was then, as he and Ibrahim crossed the finish line, that Kwame''s voice rang out.


    "Congratulations to all of you for passing the warm-up. You now have one hour to rest before the final part of the test begins."


    A chorus of groans erupted from the exhausted participants. Ten miles was no small feat, and an hour hardly felt like enough time to recover.


    But Jabari noticed something interesting ¨C there were three groups who didn¡¯t complain.


    The first were the first-years, likely accustomed to such rigorous training.


    The second were the elite candidates, warriors trained to the highest standards by their tribes.


    And the third ¨C his fellow slum residents.


    Hardship was nothing new to them. This was just another struggle on the long road to changing their fates. A day of hard work meant little when they had spent their entire lives fighting to survive.


    The hour passed in the blink of an eye. Some used it to stretch, others meditated, and a few simply lay in the grass, trying to recover whatever strength they could.


    Then Kwame¡¯s voice cut through the murmurs.


    "The final part of the fifth trial is to ascend Hell¡¯s Stairway," he announced, gesturing toward the colossal stairway behind him.


    "There are one hundred steps in total," Kwame explained, "and your only task is to climb as many as possible without losing consciousness."


    Jabari¡¯s gut told him there was more to it than that. ¡®What kind of force could make them black out?¡¯


    As if answering his unspoken question, Kwame continued.


    "This is a pass-or-fail test. To pass, you must achieve at least two stars, which means reaching the thirtieth step. Three stars require fifty steps, four stars require seventy, and anyone who reaches ninety or above will earn five stars."


    The candidates tensed, their eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and apprehension.


    "There¡¯s no official time limit," Kwame added. "The trial ends when you can no longer continue."


    Then his lips curled into a faint smirk.


    "Oh, and before anyone asks ¨C the record stands at ninety-six steps, set by Salsabil Khan."


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Ninety-six steps¡­


    Only four short of the summit.


    Jabari exhaled slowly. His body still ached, his muscles screamed for rest, but none of that mattered now.


    "Begin."


    And with that, the climb started.

 Book 1: Chapter 30 – I’ll Take That Bet

    As soon as Kwame finished speaking, the soon-to-be second-years wasted no time in beginning their ascent, with this year¡¯s trialists following close behind.


    Watching the first-years'' backs disappear up the steps, Jabari couldn¡¯t help but wonder ¨C why were they, the newcomers, forced to take the assessment alongside those already part of the Institute? Was this some sort of annual test, or was there another reason? He quickly pushed the thought aside ¨C now wasn¡¯t the time for distractions.


    He and the other slum kids were the last to step forward. Though their bodies ached, muscles burning with exhaustion, none of them hesitated. Their eyes blazed with determination, their spirits fuelled by the hope of a brighter future.


    Behind them, Kwame observed their ascent with a knowing smile, his fingers deftly adjusting a large circular disc engraved with intricate runes.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you grinning?¡± asked another invigilator, one of those who had stood at the finish line as the trialists crossed.


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯m just pleased,¡± Kwame replied, watching the slum kids closely. ¡°There will soon be few more Beast-Warriors from the slums.¡±


    The large disc in his hands suddenly trembled before floating into the sky, its glowing runes locking onto the platforms above.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself,¡± the assisting invigilator, Jason, cautioned. ¡°They¡¯ve only just set foot on the first step of Hell¡¯s Stairway.¡±


    Kwame chuckled, his tone smug. ¡°Jason, you know as well as I do ¨C every single slum kid who has made it this far in the trials has become a Beast-Warrior. No exceptions.¡±


    Jason merely rolled his eyes, clearly accustomed to his colleague¡¯s unwavering confidence, but he didn¡¯t argue the point.


    Back at the Colosseum, the four massive screens hovering in the sky flickered before displaying the trialists and first-years climbing the platforms, their figures moving steadily upwards.


    ¡°Hmm? Where¡¯s Jari?¡± Inayah asked, scanning the crowd of ascending figures in search of her brother.


    ¡°He¡¯s right at the back,¡± Lateef replied, pointing to a small group lingering at the rear. ¡°Just about to begin his climb.¡±


    As Jabari stepped onto the first platform, a faint tug at his consciousness took him by surprise. The force was weak ¨C barely noticeable ¨C but as he lifted his gaze to the steps ahead, he noticed something peculiar. The further the other examinees climbed, the more their movements slowed. By the 10th step, many were visibly struggling, while the fastest among them neared the 20th step with determined yet heavy strides.


    ¡®The pressure must intensify with each step,¡¯ Jabari mused, observing the backs of the youths ahead of him.


    Then, to everyone''s shock, he closed his eyes.


    Whispers and sidelong glances flitted between the other slum children as they continued climbing. Yet none stopped to question him ¨C this was not a place to concern themselves with others.


    Down below, the two invigilators exchanged startled glances. Jabari was the slum child they had the highest expectations for, but here he was, motionless on the very first step.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± Jason muttered, brows furrowed.


    Kwame hesitated before answering, though his own words rang hollow in his ears. ¡°He¡¯s probably just acclimatising himself.¡±


    He knew better than most that the pressure on the first step was negligible ¨C so weak that even those with the frailest willpower barely registered it.


    It wasn¡¯t just the instructors who noticed. Back at the stadium, where the assessment was being broadcast on massive screens, the crowd reacted with murmurs and sneers.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t the slum brats who make it this far supposed to be the best at this test?¡± A man scoffed, watching Jabari remain still.


    ¡°Looks like he wasted all his luck on the reaction test,¡± another chimed in with a derisive chuckle.


    ¡°Once a slum rat, always a slum rat.¡±


    Inayah flinched at the words, her body trembling. Before she could let her emotions spiral, a gentle hand settled on her shoulder.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about your brother,¡± Heba reassured her softly. ¡°If there¡¯s any test I¡¯d bet on him to pass, it¡¯s this one.¡±


    Inayah nodded, but the worry in her eyes remained as she stared at her brother¡¯s lone figure on the first step.


    Meanwhile, on Hell¡¯s Staircase, the trial was beginning to take its toll.


    At the rear, those with weaker wills were already faltering between the 10th and 15th steps. Some bit their tongues to stay conscious; others shook their heads as if to ward off an encroaching haze.


    Ahead of them, the slum children climbed steadily, reaching the 20th step. They felt the strain, but not enough to hinder them ¨C at least, not yet.


    Further up, the stronger youths from various tribes were scattered between the 20th and 25th steps. Even they were beginning to struggle, heads wobbling slightly under the invisible pressure, but they pushed forward with steady steps.


    Above them, the majority of first-years surged towards the 30th step, their movements unwavering despite the increasing resistance.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    And leading the charge were fifteen exceptional individuals, seemingly unfazed by the pressure. They climbed as if on a leisurely stroll, some even chatting and exchanging smiles. Among them, ten were the undisputed top-ranked first-years. But surprisingly, one was an average-ranked student whose performance defied expectations.


    The remaining four were in a league of their own.


    August Owusu moved alone, his pace unbroken.


    Jamal Marley, the prodigy of the Shura Tribe, was surrounded by first-years eager to curry favour.


    Brandon, the twin-blade expert of the Shura Tribe, walked with complete indifference, his expression unreadable.


    And lastly, there was Danso, the young master of the Musa Tribe.


    At that moment, a mocking voice rang out.


    ¡°Amadi, you¡¯re truly pathetic if you struggled so much against a slum rat who¡¯s still stuck on the first step.¡±


    The words came from Alyssa, a striking girl with long braids and emerald-green eyes, ranked 10th among the first-years. A smirk curled at her lips as she glanced at Jabari''s unmoving figure.


    ¡°Who struggled with that trash? I beat him in under a minute!¡± Amadi snapped, his voice laced with frustration as he cast a disdainful glance at Jabari, still standing motionless on the first step. ¡°I expected more from someone who broke one of Young Master Zuberi¡¯s records.¡±


    ¡°That was just luck,¡± Jamal interjected, his tone sharp with irritation. ¡°If I had waited until I was fifteen to attempt the trial, setting a record or two would¡¯ve been easy.¡±


    The others nodded in agreement, their expressions full of feigned conviction. But deep down, they knew the truth ¨C Jamal was merely bragging. As students of the institute, they understood better than anyone how gruelling these trials were. Earning five stars on any test was no small feat. Breaking a record? Nearly unheard of, even for someone of Jamal¡¯s calibre, despite the wealth of resources at his disposal.


    It was only after spending a year training under Ulo¡¯s greatest warriors that they had come to truly appreciate how monstrous those record-holders were. That was why, even as they looked down on Jabari for his origins as a slum rat, a reluctant thread of respect wove its way into their thoughts. His ability was undeniable, and his performance in this trial ¨C whether they liked it or not ¨C was turning heads.


    As if sensing the weight of their stares, Jabari finally opened his eyes. Without hesitation, he stepped onto the next platform. But before anyone could react, he closed his eyes once more, his expression unreadable.


    Murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd.


    Again, on the next step, he did the same. And the next. Each time, pausing with his eyes shut as though lost in deep contemplation.


    Those still paying attention grew increasingly baffled, but Jabari remained utterly indifferent to their reactions. Even if he had been aware, he wouldn¡¯t have cared. What he had just uncovered was far more important than their scrutiny.


    From the instant he had stepped onto the first platform, he had felt that strange, almost imperceptible force, gently tugging at his consciousness, coaxing him toward sleep.


    For most, this would have been an alarming sensation. But for Jabari, who had spent years surviving on little to no sleep, the effect was laughable.


    Initially, he had stopped merely to test a theory. By activating his spirit ability, he hoped to resist the force, keeping it as a secret weapon for the later, more punishing steps.


    What he hadn¡¯t expected was that the moment his spirit activated, not only did the oppressive force vanish, but his spiritual energy became lighter, more fluid, easier to control. And the higher he climbed, the more profound the effect became.


    By the 10th step, the pressure had doubled. It still wasn¡¯t enough to hinder him, but he could feel the difference in his spiritual control. His ability to manipulate energy had sharpened, refined itself in a way he hadn¡¯t thought possible.


    For thirty whole minutes, he remained still, eyes closed, immersed in his newfound discovery.


    Then, at last, he opened his eyes.


    A slow smile spread across his lips. He had done it. He had finally mastered how to split his consciousness in two, allowing him to fuse and alternate between senses at will. The revelation sent a thrill of exhilaration through him.


    But just as quickly, his excitement turned into self-mockery, and he smacked his forehead with a sigh.


    ¡®I almost forgot ¨C this is a test to enter the Beast-Warrior Institute, not the time to train.¡¯


    Shaking his head at himself, he exhaled and refocused. There would be time to explore his breakthrough later. Right now, he had a trial to conquer.


    His gaze swept upward, locking onto the figures ahead. He had lost time, but it didn¡¯t matter. He had made up his mind ¨C he would not rely on his spirit ability to climb. No shortcuts. No tricks. If he was going to prove himself, he would do it with sheer willpower alone.


    With renewed determination, Jabari surged forward, his movements swift and unrelenting as he closed in on the stragglers at the rear.


    The two invigilators were the first to notice Jabari¡¯s sudden burst of movement, but instead of relief, confusion flickered across their faces. His rapid ascent made it clear ¨C he had never been struggling with the pressure to begin with. So what had he been doing all that time?


    Kwame exhaled, shaking his head. At least now, he wouldn¡¯t have to witness a slum resident proving to be the exception to the rule.


    By the time Jabari reached the 15th step, he had already overtaken the first group of struggling trialists without so much as a glance in their direction. Yet his presence alone seemed to jolt them awake, as if the sight of him effortlessly passing them reignited their will. They gritted their teeth, trying futilely to keep up.


    At the 20th step, Jabari had already overtaken fifteen candidates, but his pace remained unbroken. The pressure had doubled again, yet it might as well have been non-existent for all the effect it had on him.


    Back at the Colosseum, Inayah shot to her feet, her eyes wide with excitement as she watched her brother ascend. Her sudden movement drew the attention of those around her, their gazes shifting toward the screens broadcasting Jabari¡¯s progress.


    ¡°That slum kid has already reached the 25th step ¨C and he¡¯s still going strong!¡± A spectator exclaimed, unable to hide his astonishment.


    ¡°Looks like all the slum rats are going to pass the test again this year.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what he was doing at the start?¡±


    ¡°He was probably putting on a show,¡± another sneered. ¡°Trying to grab attention since he knew he couldn¡¯t compete with the real geniuses.¡±


    ¡°Cunning little slum rat.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but it worked. We¡¯re all watching him now ¨C so are the invigilators.¡±


    ¡°SHUT UP!¡±


    The sharp cry cut through the murmuring crowd. All eyes turned to Inayah, her small frame trembling with barely contained rage.


    ¡°My brother wouldn¡¯t do that!¡± she shouted, her voice raw with emotion.


    The crowd fell momentarily silent, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Then their gazes swept over her, taking in her thin frame, the hollowness in her cheeks. It was obvious ¨C she was from the slums too.


    ¡°If he wasn¡¯t faking, then what was he doing on the first step for so long?¡± a man jeered.


    Inayah clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to respond, to shut them up, but she didn¡¯t know the answer herself.


    ¡°Exactly. Your brother¡¯s nothing but a shameless little slum rat!¡± The man laughed, and a few others chuckled along.


    Inayah¡¯s breath came in sharp gasps. Then, before she could think, the words tumbled from her lips.


    ¡°My brother isn¡¯t shameless! He doesn¡¯t need tricks ¨C he¡¯ll come first in this trial!¡±


    A stunned pause.


    Then laughter. Loud, mocking, as if she had just uttered the most ridiculous joke in the world.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you put your money where your mouth is?¡± someone taunted.


    ¡°She¡¯s just a slum rat. What money could she possibly have?¡± another scoffed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that bet on her behalf.¡±


    The crowd turned as Heba rose to her feet, her expression calm yet unwavering.

 Book 1: Chapter 31 – Cheap Tricks

    Even with her hood concealing her identity, a few sharp-eyed spectators sensed an aura of confidence around Heba ¨C one that made it clear she wasn¡¯t from the slums. Unfortunately, not everyone was so perceptive.


    ¡°Who are you? Another slum rat?¡± sneered the man who had first proposed the bet.


    ¡°That¡¯s irrelevant,¡± Heba replied, her voice gentle yet carrying an undeniable weight. ¡°All you need to know is that I¡¯m willing to bet ¨C against you and anyone else here ¨C that Jabari will come first in this assessment.¡±


    The man scoffed. ¡°How do we know you¡¯re not just another slum rat with no money, trying to pull a quick scam on us?¡±


    In response, Heba reached into a small pouch at her side and pulled out a single gold coin.


    Silence fell over the crowd.


    Inayah blinked in confusion. She didn¡¯t understand why everyone had suddenly gone quiet. In the slums, money meant little ¨C people survived through bartering, trading whatever scraps they had to get by. But outside the slums, in the main settlements, currency dictated one¡¯s survival.


    Copper coins were the most common, the lowest in value. Ten copper coins equalled one bronze coin, and a hundred bronze coins made up a single silver coin. The average family earned no more than two or three silver coins a year. But a gold coin? That was worth a thousand silver coins. A fortune.


    Greedy eyes flickered toward Heba¡¯s hand, but no one dared move first, wary of the others watching just as hungrily.


    Heba, however, appeared utterly indifferent to the silent tension rising around her. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the man who had spoken.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Rat got your tongue?¡±


    The insult struck deep. Humiliation and fury twisted the man¡¯s expression, clouding his judgment. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realised that Heba was no slum dweller. How could a slum rat possibly possess a gold coin? And even if, by some miracle, she had one, why would she be bold enough to flash it so openly, surrounded by those who would gladly take it from her?


    Unfortunately, arrogance was a dangerous quality.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re so eager to lose your money, I¡¯ll help you out,¡± the man spat venomously.


    ¡°I¡¯m willing to bet,¡± Heba said smoothly. ¡°But do you even have that much?¡±


    Her words were precise, each one cutting where it hurt the most.


    The man¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I have three silver coins.¡±


    To most, carrying three silver coins on one¡¯s person was an impressive sum. But unfortunately for him, Heba was not ¡°most people.¡±


    ¡°A shame you¡¯re so poor,¡± she sighed, feigning disappointment. ¡°But I suppose three silvers barely count as a bet.¡±


    Just as she was about to sit back down, another voice spoke up.


    ¡°Are you seriously willing to take on more bets?¡±


    Heba¡¯s gaze swept the crowd, calmly assessing the faces staring at her ¨C not at her, but at her hand, at the gleaming gold coin she held.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take on all bets,¡± she declared, her voice steady, unwavering. ¡°Because Jabari will finish first today.¡±


    A ripple of excitement spread through the audience. Several people licked their lips, eager to take advantage of what they saw as easy money.


    Heba, however, remained completely at ease. Not only was she a Mage herself, but she still had Lateef and Aten ¨C more than enough to keep her safe, should anyone grow bold enough to try something foolish.


    Meanwhile, Inayah sat in silence, her stomach twisting with guilt. She knew Heba was only doing this for her sake. She lowered her head, burdened by the weight of it-


    Until she felt a presence lean in close. A whisper, barely audible, reached her ear. ¡°30th step.¡±


    It was Aten.


    Jabari had just reached the 30th step, his movements fluid and unbothered, as if the growing pressure simply didn¡¯t exist.


    Reaching this step meant he had officially met the minimum requirement to be accepted into the institute ¨C but for him, this was only the beginning.


    By now, the fastest group had already advanced between the 50th and 60th steps, but Jabari was steadily closing the gap.


    Upon reaching the 40th step, he paused for a brief moment, considering the potential benefits of activating his spirit at this altitude. The temptation was strong, but in the end, he shook it off and resumed his climb.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    At the 45th step, he spotted Malia ¨C the one who had been leading the slum children up until now. As he passed her, she caught his eye and gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. He returned the gesture, as he did with the other slum kids. They, unlike the rest, held no resentment toward his progress. Instead, they felt a quiet kinship, as if his success was something they could share in.


    It wasn¡¯t until the 50th step that Jabari finally began to feel the strain. The pressure had increased noticeably, forcing his pace to slow ¨C though only slightly.


    By the 54th step, he overtook a first-year student who was barely clinging to consciousness. The boy fought desperately to stay awake, his body trembling from exhaustion, but in the end, he lost. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the cold stone, instantly succumbing to sleep.


    With each new step, Jabari passed another struggling student ¨C either a first-year desperately pushing forward or one of the rare trialists who had managed to reach this high so quickly.


    Just as he prepared to step onto the 63rd platform, an arrogant yet vaguely familiar voice rang out behind him.


    ¡°Stop right there!¡±


    Jabari turned his head slightly and found himself looking at Chantelle ¨C the older sister of the so-called prodigy, Jamal. He must have passed her without even realising it.


    ¡°How did you manage to cheat Hell¡¯s Stairway?¡± she demanded, her voice thick with disbelief. There was no way he could so easily disregard the pressure like this ¨C he had to be cheating.


    Jabari¡¯s only response was a glance. A look of sheer indifference, as if she wasn¡¯t even worth acknowledging. Then, with a roll of his eyes, he turned away and continued his climb, leaving her behind to fume and shout at his retreating back.


    When he reached the 70th step, he noticed a small group of first-years ahead of him. Unlike the others he had passed, who were filled with anxiety and desperation, these students were different. Their eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion, yet their faces carried an undeniable sense of excitement.


    That excitement, however, quickly morphed into shock when they saw him.


    Jabari had to admit ¨C he was definitely feeling the pressure now. But after spending the last fifteen years surviving on barely an hour of sleep a night, the fatigue pressing down on him was almost laughable in comparison.


    He cast the group one last glance, still not entirely understanding their reactions, before pressing forward.


    ¡­


    Back at the Arena, Inayah trembled with excitement as Jabari ascended to the 71st step.


    ¡°Why are you so thrilled about him reaching the 71st step?¡± Heba asked with a soft laugh, gently running her fingers through Inayah¡¯s hair. ¡°For him, this is just the beginning.¡±


    Though she spoke to Inayah, her voice carried just enough to ensure that everyone around them could hear.


    ¡°It¡¯s only the 71st step,¡± the man from before scoffed, folding his arms. ¡°There are still fourteen people ahead of him. And those three at the top? They¡¯re already at the 84th step.¡±


    His words were sharp, dismissive even. Still, his posture betrayed him. Despite his bravado, there was an undeniable tension in his stance.


    Jabari¡¯s climbing speed was unsettling.


    And he wasn¡¯t the only one feeling it. Everyone who had bet against the unassuming princess was starting to shift uncomfortably, a creeping sense of unease settling in their chests.


    Heba, on the other hand, merely chuckled, unbothered.


    She had nothing left to say. She was a firm believer that, in the end, actions would speak far louder than words.


    Jabari pressed forward, his pace slower than before but still far beyond what anyone else could manage at this stage.


    Upon reaching the 73rd step, he passed a few more first-years ¨C among them, Danso. The young master of the Musa Tribe looked ready to collapse, his body swaying as if he were one breath away from giving in. But when his eyes landed on Jabari, they flickered with shock, which quickly turned into helpless resignation. A moment later, that helplessness impressively transformed into determination. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue climbing.


    At the 80th step, his vision wavered slightly, and he paused just long enough to shake his head, forcing himself back to full awareness. That was all he needed.


    Compared to the exhaustion he used to endure, back when nightmares plagued his every attempt at sleep, this level of fatigue was still a little inferior.


    At the base of Hell¡¯s Stairway, both invigilators watched his ascent with wide eyes. The only real difference between them was the massive grin stretching across Kwame¡¯s face.


    ¡°Wipe that smug look off your face,¡± Jason muttered, rolling his eyes.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t smugness ¨C it¡¯s pride! As a former slum resident, how could I not feel proud seeing one of my own reach the 90th step?¡± Kwame shot back.


    ¡°90th step? He¡¯s not there yet. Stop getting ahead of yourself.¡±


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t reach the 90th step, I¡¯ll run back to the Arena naked.¡± Kwame grinned, crossing his arms confidently.


    Jason scoffed but didn¡¯t argue. At the rate Jabari was going, 90 steps might actually be a low estimate.


    ¡­


    At the 83rd step, Jabari spotted Amadi. The seventh-ranked first-year was down on one knee, his entire body trembling as he struggled to stay conscious. His lips moved in a desperate mutter. ¡°Not again¡­


    I can¡¯t lose to him again¡­


    I refuse!¡±


    Jabari raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t care enough to question it. He prepared to step past him-


    Then, out of the corner of his eye, Amadi saw him.


    The exhaustion dulling his features twisted into something else entirely.


    Rage.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a place for slum rats like you ¨C GET DOWN!¡± Amadi roared.


    Jabari gave him a blank stare, as if he were looking at an idiot, and took another step forward.


    In a last-ditch effort, Amadi lurched forward and grabbed his collar ¨C but in his weakened state, Jabari easily shoved him aside.


    The effortless dismissal only stoked Amadi¡¯s fury. With a snarl, he threw a right hook straight at Jabari¡¯s jaw.


    Unfortunately for him, his body was too drained to generate any real power. Even without relying on his spirit-enhanced senses, dodging was effortless.


    One wild punch after another, Amadi kept swinging, each strike weaker than the last. But the gap between them ¨C the one that had once favoured him ¨C was gone. Now, it tilted entirely in Jabari¡¯s favour.


    ¡°Stop running¡­


    Away¡­


    Fight me¡­


    Like a¡­


    Man!¡± Amadi snarled between gasping breaths.


    Jabari suddenly recalled that there seemed to be no explicit rules forbidding violence on Hell¡¯s Stairway.


    A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips.


    He took a step forward.


    Amadi, still panting, let out a breathless laugh, his eyes gleaming with wild excitement.


    As soon as Jabari entered his range, he threw a right cross with everything he had left-


    But before his fist could even make it halfway, Jabari¡¯s palm slammed against his left cheek.


    CRACK.


    The impact sent Amadi sprawling. His body crumpled at Jabari¡¯s feet, completely unconscious.


    Jabari exhaled in satisfaction, shaking out his hand. ¡°Hah! Now that was refreshing,¡± he muttered. Then, casting one last glance at the fallen first-year, he smirked.


    ¡°But next time, I¡¯ll beat you without any cheap tricks.¡±


    And with that, he turned away and resumed his climb.

 Book 1: Chapter 32: New Rival

    Jabari¡¯s steps remained steady as he pushed the memory of slapping Amadi to the back of his mind. There was no point dwelling on it now. His focus was on the climb.


    On the 85th step, he spotted a few first-years collapsed in exhaustion, their bodies sprawled against the stone as if sleep had claimed them mid-stride. Just ahead of them, Jamal was gritting his teeth, every step a battle against the invisible force weighing him down. His muscles trembled, and his breathing was ragged, but he refused to stop.


    Jabari passed him with ease, his pace unfaltering. Jamal didn¡¯t even notice until all he could see was Jabari¡¯s retreating back. He was too drained to react, too consumed by his own struggle to care. Every ounce of his willpower was spent just keeping himself upright.


    Jabari couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of respect. He had initially dismissed Jamal as just another talented but arrogant young warrior in the making, but watching him now ¨C pushing forward despite his body¡¯s protest ¨C he understood. To have reached this point and still refuse to give in required an iron will.


    On the 86th step, he caught sight of Azurian. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and Jabari noted the flash of surprise in the swordsman¡¯s gaze before it vanished behind his usual mask of indifference. Yet, the signs were there ¨C the faint trembling of his limbs, the sluggishness in his movements. He was struggling.


    Jabari thought back to Danso, then Jamal, and now Azurian. It wasn¡¯t just talent that set them apart from the others of their tribes. No doubt, they had better resources, but more than that, their willpower had been forged through relentless effort ¨C through years of pushing their limits every single day.


    ¡®This kind of strength isn¡¯t given. It¡¯s built.¡¯


    He had little patience for those born into privilege who mistook their circumstances for superiority, but for warriors who had truly earned their place, he could only acknowledge their efforts.


    Back in the Colosseum, all eyes were fixed on him. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they watched him ascend step after step, passing one challenger after another. Even those who had scoffed at his origins couldn¡¯t ignore the sheer determination he displayed.


    Some whispered in awe. Others frowned in thought.


    What kind of life had he lived to cultivate such unyielding resolve?


    Jabari, however, was oblivious to their speculation ¨C and even if he had known, he was too tired to care.


    By the time he reached the 89th step, a wry smile tugged at his lips. He had only just rid himself of the nightmares and the constant fatigue that had plagued him for years, yet here he was again, exhaustion clawing at his body. It wasn¡¯t quite as bad as before, but it wasn¡¯t far off either.


    With a shake of his head, he shoved the thought aside and kept moving.


    Up ahead, August¡¯s broad back came into view. The older boy was huffing, his chest rising and falling with deep, laboured breaths, but he didn¡¯t stop. Even as Jabari stepped beside him, August didn¡¯t notice. His entire being was focused on one thing ¨C taking the next step.


    His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out against his skin from exertion, but what stood out most was the fire in them. That unwavering determination.


    Jabari had felt a flicker of respect for Azurian and the others, but the respect he felt for August was far deeper.


    It wasn¡¯t just August¡¯s strength or endurance. It was his character. He had never looked down on Jabari for being from the slums. He treated him as an equal. That alone was rare.


    ¡®I guess not all children of the tribes are that bad.¡¯


    Stopping at the edge of the 89th platform, Jabari inhaled deeply, bracing himself. He could already feel it ¨C the pressure ahead was going to double once again. And yet, he stepped forward.


    The moment Jabari¡¯s left foot touched the 90th step, an overwhelming force crashed into his mind like a tidal wave. His vision darkened at the edges, and for a split second, he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. But with a sharp clench of his teeth, he forced himself to endure. His body trembled under the sheer weight pressing down on him, but he remained standing ¨C steady and unyielding ¨C on the 90th platform.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°He actually stepped onto the 90th step on his first attempt?¡± Jason blurted out, his disbelief evident.


    ¡°The willpower of those of us from the slums isn¡¯t something you can begin to comprehend!¡± Kwame replied smugly, crossing his arms.


    Jason shot him a flat look. ¡°If I remember correctly, you only reached the 73rd step during our trials.¡±


    ¡°Which was two steps higher than you!¡± Kwame shot back, a petty smirk playing on his lips.


    Jason rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever.¡± He knew better than to argue when Kwame got like this. Instead, he redirected his attention back to the trial. ¡°Which step do you think he¡¯ll reach in the end?¡±


    Kwame¡¯s eyes remained locked on Jabari, his expression unreadable. ¡°94th, maybe 95th if he pushes himself.¡±


    Jason scoffed. ¡°You know just as well as I do that from the 90th step onward, the pressure doubles with each step. He might barely scrape the 93rd, but the 94th? That¡¯s impossible, even for him.¡±


    Kwame hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Hmm, I wonder¡­¡± In truth, he knew Jason¡¯s assessment wasn¡¯t wrong. Still, he was hoping ¨C no, willing ¨C Jabari to shatter their expectations once again.


    The arena was silent, all eyes fixed on the lone figure standing on the 90th step. In the long history of the Beast-Warrior trials, only six others had ever achieved such a feat. The sheer weight of the moment hung in the air.


    That silence, however, was quickly shattered by an excited shriek.


    ¡°I knew it! I knew he was going to come first!¡± Inayah cried, bouncing up and down with unrestrained joy.


    Heba laughed beside her, her voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. ¡°Others may have doubted your brother, but look at him now!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself,¡± one of the spectators grumbled, clearly part of a wager that didn¡¯t favour Jabari. ¡°He¡¯s not first yet.¡±


    ¡°Just wait,¡± Heba replied confidently, brushing off the comment as she focused back on her brother.


    Meanwhile, on the 90th step, Jabari took several deep breaths, steadying himself. His body had adjusted ¨C barely ¨C but the difference was undeniable. The moment he moved again, his speed had more than halved compared to the 89th step. And yet, his eyes burned with unwavering determination.


    Halfway across the platform, he spotted a collapsed figure ahead ¨C the boy ranked third among the first-years, fast asleep where he had fallen.


    Only then did Jabari realise just how much the pressure was affecting him. He had been so focused on resisting that he hadn¡¯t even noticed his own posture ¨C his back hunched, his head bowed as if the weight itself had forced him into submission.


    Gritting his teeth, he forced his head up, muscles screaming in protest. The 100th platform loomed in the distance, hazy and almost unreachable. Above it, the illusory image of Oluwa¡¯s smirking face peered down at him, taunting him from the skies.


    Something ignited within Jabari ¨C a deep, burning rage.


    His feet stopped dragging. His spine straightened. His chin lifted.


    His movements no longer carried the sluggishness of one merely enduring; they carried the resolve of a warrior pushing forward, refusing to break.


    Jason¡¯s eyes widened at the sudden transformation. ¡°What just happened?¡±


    Kwame smirked, his eyes gleaming. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, amusement lacing his tone, ¡°but do you still think the 93rd step is his limit?¡±


    Jabari¡¯s pace had slowed to a crawl, but his steps remained firm. Without even realising it, he had crossed onto the 91st step. The moment his foot landed, the pressure on his mind doubled once more, forcing him to move even slower. Yet, his face betrayed nothing.


    His focus was locked on Oluwa¡¯s distant figure, an unwavering beacon drawing him forward. So intent was he on his goal that he failed to notice the frustration flickering across the face of the girl ranked second among the first-years as he passed her on the 92<sup>nd</sup> step. The unwillingness in her eyes was clear ¨C she had been overtaken, and she hated it.


    By the time he reached the 93rd step, his movements had become even more laboured. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat poured from his body in streams, soaking his clothes. The mental weight pressing down on him was suffocating, but his eyes never wavered from the illusory image of Oluwa above.


    He barely registered the two figures ahead ¨C one, the first-ranked first-year, and the other, a boy from the middle ranks of their year. They were locked in a silent battle, step for step, neither willing to concede.


    Their movements were sluggish, their legs trembling under the immense strain. They had long since stopped speaking, their energy reserved solely for moving forward. But with each agonising step, they turned to meet each other¡¯s gaze, wordlessly declaring their resolve:


    I will not lose!


    Then, they saw him.


    Jabari.


    Their initial shock was unmistakable. Their tired eyes widened as disbelief flickered across their faces.


    But just as quickly, that disbelief transformed into something else ¨C an unspoken challenge.


    Without a word, they acknowledged him as a new rival.


    Back at the Colosseum, silence reigned.


    Every spectator sat frozen, watching as Jabari now stood shoulder to shoulder with the two battling for first place. The unthinkable had happened.


    ¡°I-Impossible¡­!¡± the man who had placed the initial bet stammered, his face pale with disbelief.


    Heba chuckled, enjoying the moment far too much. ¡°Are you ready to pay now?¡± she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.


    The man flinched, his fingers twitching.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t won yet,¡± another gambler quickly interjected, desperation clear in his tone.


    ¡°Pay now, pay later,¡± Heba merely shrugged, completely unbothered. ¡°It makes no difference to me. The result won¡¯t change.¡±


    Her words sent a ripple of frustration through the crowd, especially among those who had bet against Jabari. Their expressions twisted in barely contained fury, but there was nothing left to say.


    All they could do now was pray ¨C pray that somehow, against all odds, Jabari didn¡¯t finish first.

 Book 1: Chapter 33 – Thank You

    On the 93rd platform, every step Jabari took was met with an immediate response from the two beside him. They pushed themselves forward, refusing to fall behind. Their eyes remained fixed on him, as if blinking for even a moment would cause him to disappear beyond their reach.


    When Jabari ascended onto the 94th step, they followed, barely a breath behind. But by the time they steadied themselves against the crushing weight of the new platform, Jabari had already taken another step forward. Instinctively, they forced themselves to move again, unwilling to let him widen the gap.


    ¡®Does he even know we¡¯re here?!¡¯ thought the boy who had originally ranked near the middle of the first-years. His gaze shifted to the side of Jabari¡¯s head, searching for any sign of acknowledgement.


    It was only then that realisation struck ¨C while he and his fellow classmate had seen Jabari as their direct rival, Jabari had never once spared them a glance.


    A furious roar suddenly tore through the air.


    Snapping his head to the side, the mid-ranked youth watched as his former competitor, the first-ranked first-year, let out a desperate cry. He fought against the fatigue clawing at his body, pushing himself recklessly to match Jabari¡¯s pace ¨C only for his legs to buckle beneath him.


    With a final gasp, he collapsed.


    The mid-ranked youth barely had time to process what had happened before he felt his own consciousness wavering. His body screamed for rest, his limbs trembling under the unbearable pressure.


    He looked at Jabari, who continued forward, completely unbothered, then at his fallen rival lying motionless on the ground.


    A wry smile touched his lips. ¡®From the beginning, he had never put us in his eyes at all.¡¯


    As he watched Jabari disappear further ahead, never once turning back, the truth finally settled within him. Even his former rival¡¯s deafening roar hadn¡¯t been enough to make Jabari acknowledge their presence.


    And then, clarity struck. ¡®I wasn¡¯t here to compete with anyone but myself.¡¯


    A grateful smile spread across his face. With newfound resolve, he took another step forward, completely ignoring his unconscious rival.


    ¡°That idiot Tomi let himself get swept up in Jabari¡¯s flow, but Jide¡­¡± Jason observed, eyes fixed on the 94th platform. ¡°He was smart enough to correct his mistake before it was too late.¡±


    Beside him, Kwame grinned from ear to ear.


    ¡°Stop smiling like that,¡± Jason muttered. ¡°It¡¯s freaking me out,¡±


    Kwame only grinned wider. ¡°How can I not smile? First and second place are both going to be held by former slum residents. You know how rare that is?¡± His voice brimmed with excitement.


    Jason rolled his eyes. ¡°Jide reached the 69th step last year, and this year, he¡¯s constantly proven his willpower to everyone. He has worked twice as hard as his classmates and climbed from one of the weakest to the middle ranks. His reaching this height is impressive but not surprising.¡±


    His gaze returned to Jabari, who was still moving forward, undeterred.


    ¡°But Jabari¡­


    Just what could he have gone through to have such unshakable willpower?¡±


    ¡­


    Back at the arena, Heba let out a triumphant laugh, turning to face the gamblers who had dared to bet against her.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± she drawled, smirking. ¡°I guess this means I win.¡±


    Her voice snapped them out of their stunned silence. The expressions of those who had placed bets darkened, their faces twisting with frustration. But Heba either didn¡¯t notice ¨C or simply didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you say,¡± one of the men sneered, his pride boiling over. ¡°I refuse to pay some random slum bit-¡±


    Schlink.


    His words died in his throat as the cold edge of Lateef¡¯s blade pressed against his neck.


    The entire section of the arena froze.


    The speed at which Lateef had moved was terrifying ¨C so fast that most hadn¡¯t even registered it until it was too late.


    A voice from the crowd broke the silence.


    ¡°You¡­


    Are you a Beast-Warrior?¡±


    The question came from a man sitting just a row behind Lateef. Despite his proximity, he hadn¡¯t been able to track the movement at all.


    ¡°Only a Beast-Warrior is capable of moving at that speed,¡± another acknowledged, still in shock.


    Though there were several Beast-Warriors present, they all sat at the front due to their esteemed status. Heba and her group, on the other hand, were seated among the commoners.


    And yet, the man with the blade at his throat realised in that moment ¨C status meant nothing when death was a breath away.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Heba smiled sweetly as if nothing was amiss. ¡°So,¡± she asked, voice calm and unbothered, ¡°who wants to pay first?¡±


    Many of the gamblers remained reluctant, but with Lateef¡¯s blade still gleaming and his expression as cold as ice, none dared to resist. They had no one to blame but themselves ¨C they had made the bets willingly, after all.


    One by one, they stepped forward, begrudgingly handing over their losses.


    "Only you left," Heba said indifferently, turning her gaze toward a dark-skinned, obese man. His bald head gleamed under the sun, reflecting the light so perfectly it was almost blinding. Unlike the others, he wasn¡¯t scowling or flustered. Instead, he met Heba¡¯s stare with a calm, knowing smile.


    "You¡¯re definitely not a common slum resident if you have a Beast-Warrior as a guard," the man mused. "Who are you really?"


    "Why¡¯s that any of your concern?" Heba replied flatly.


    The man chuckled, raising his hands in a show of harmless curiosity. "No need to be so defensive. My name is Lex, and I¡¯m simply curious. But if you¡¯d rather not answer, that¡¯s fine." His smile widened. "Actually, I have a proposition. If you waive my bet, the Twilight Consortium would be most appreciative."


    Heba tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "And what does the Consortium¡¯s appreciation have to do with me?"


    A flicker of irritation passed through Lex¡¯s eyes, though he quickly masked it with another forced smile. "It¡¯s better to make friends than enemies in life," he said through gritted teeth.


    "That¡¯s true..." Heba mused, her tone thoughtful.


    Hearing this, the onlookers assumed she was about to back down. After all, while most organisations feared Beast-Warriors, the Twilight Consortium was no ordinary group. As the largest trading company in Ulo, with connections including the major tribes, they were a force few dared to offend. No one would blame Heba for compromising.


    And yet, her next words nearly made everyone fall from their seats.


    "So how about you pay me, and we can be friends?"


    Lex¡¯s smile instantly vanished. His mouth opened in rage, but before he could utter a word-


    Schlink.


    A sharp, stinging pain flared against his throat.


    He stiffened. His eyes darted downward.


    Lateef¡¯s blade, no longer just pressing against his neck, had drawn blood.


    The world around him blurred, but one thing was painfully clear ¨C he was a single breath away from death.


    "I suggest you pay what you owe me," Heba said, her voice calm, almost bored.


    Lex¡¯s fury burned hot, but his fear burned hotter. As an employee of the Twilight Consortium, he was accustomed to people grovelling for his favour, bending over backwards to earn his goodwill. Never in his life had he found himself in this position ¨C so close to the abyss.


    Swallowing his pride, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin identical to the one Heba had used earlier. "This is all I have on me," he muttered, his voice tense. "You¡¯ll have to wait for me to get change."


    "Not necessary," Heba said, shaking her head. "The gold coin will suffice."


    Lex¡¯s nostrils flared. "I only bet 50 silvers," he protested, momentarily forgetting the blade at his throat.


    "Think of it as compensation for the emotional distress of being threatened by the Twilight Consortium," Heba said sweetly.


    There was no fear in her voice, no hesitation ¨C just pure, shameless extortion.


    The crowd nearly gasped. This wasn¡¯t just collecting a debt ¨C this was daylight robbery!


    Lex¡¯s entire body tensed as the blade inched forward. With a final scowl, he shoved the gold coin into Lateef¡¯s hand before storming off, humiliated and fuming.


    "Pleasure doing business," Heba called after him, tucking the coin away with a cheerful laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Inayah said quietly, guilt evident in her eyes. "This all started because¡ª"


    "I did this because I wanted to," Heba interrupted before Inayah could finish. "No need to feel guilty." Then, with a teasing grin, she added, "Besides, now your brother has a little pocket money for when he enters the Institute."


    Inayah¡¯s eyes widened. "Wait¡­


    This is for Jari?"


    "He¡¯ll need it," Heba replied. "The Institute¡¯s resources aren¡¯t cheap. If he wants to stay ahead of his peers, he¡¯ll need every bit of support he can get."


    Tears welled up in Inayah¡¯s eyes. "Thank you¡­


    Thank you so, so much!"


    "Don¡¯t cry," Heba said, gently wiping away the tears before smirking. "If that overprotective brother of yours sees you like this, he¡¯ll think I bullied you."


    ¡­


    On the 94th platform of Hell¡¯s Stairway, Jabari stood at the very edge, his gaze locked onto the 95th step towering above him.


    He inhaled deeply, steeling himself, and attempted to take that next step ¨C only for an invisible force to slam into his mind like a hammer. His foot barely lifted before the overwhelming pressure sent him staggering back.


    A wave of dizziness threatened to consume him, but he clenched his fists and shook his head, forcing the grogginess away. His eyes snapped back to the illusory figure of Oluwa smirking down at him, his mocking expression burning into Jabari¡¯s soul.


    A deep, guttural roar tore from Jabari¡¯s throat. Fuelled by raw fury, he surged forward, his foot slamming onto the 95th platform.


    The pressure doubled again, pressing down on him like an unrelenting storm, but the fire in his chest only burned hotter. He refused to fall. He would not be stopped.


    One step. Then another. Each movement heavier than the last, each breath like fire in his lungs. But his eyes never wavered. He marched forward, unwavering.


    By now, nearly everyone else had collapsed under the crushing weight of the stairway.


    Only one remained standing.


    August.


    He had just reached the 91st step, his entire body swaying as he fought to stay conscious. Every muscle screamed for relief; every inch of his being begged him to stop, but then, he heard it.


    Jabari¡¯s roar.


    His unfocused eyes lifted, and there, in the distance, he saw him ¨C Jabari¡¯s back, solid and unyielding, standing firmly on the 95th step.


    Something about it felt¡­


    It felt larger than life.


    August blinked. ¡®When did he even pass me?¡¯


    August¡¯s thoughts were fuelled purely by curiosity ¨C there was no jealousy, no bitterness. If anything, he felt more inspired than anything else.


    The exhaustion clawing at him became nothing more than background noise as he straightened his spine, gritting his teeth. One foot forward. Then another. His focus locked solely onto Jabari¡¯s back as though drawing strength from it.


    The edge of the 91st platform loomed before him.


    August inhaled sharply, steeled himself, and pushed forward.


    The moment his foot lifted, an unbearable force slammed into him. His vision blurred, his body buckled, and before he could fully step onto the 92nd platform, the sheer weight sent him crashing back down.


    Gasping, he tried again.


    Again, the pressure knocked him back.


    His chest heaved. His body trembled.


    Then, his gaze lifted once more.


    Even from where he stood, he could see it ¨C Jabari¡¯s body wobbling under the strain. He was struggling. He was in pain. And yet, he never stopped moving forward.


    Jabari was walking away from him. And yet, his back¡­


    It only seemed to grow bigger.


    A surge of defiance erupted within August.


    His eyes snapped back to the step that had denied him.


    With a roar that tore through the suffocating air, he threw himself forward, muscles screaming, mind splitting under the pressure-


    But finally, his foot landed on the 92nd step.


    His knees nearly buckled. It took him ten whole seconds just to stabilise himself, but he did it. He had surpassed his limit.


    A weak, exhausted smile tugged at his lips.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± he muttered sincerely ¨C just before consciousness finally slipped away.

 Book 1: Chapter 34 (Volume Finale) – My Journey Starts Here (Extra Long Chapter)

    Jabari had no idea he had just helped August, just as August had no idea he had done the same for Jabari.


    A moment ago, Jabari had been on the verge of collapse. His vision blurred, his body wavered, and the crushing pressure threatened to drag him into a definitive state of unconsciousness. He had reached his limit ¨C until the sound of August¡¯s roar jolted him awake.


    ¡®That was close,¡¯ Jabari thought, standing still as he struggled to catch his breath. His chest heaved, his legs trembled, but the fire in his heart had yet to die out. Is this it for me? Is this my limit?


    He had made it to the 95th step. He had surpassed his goal. And yet¡­


    He still wasn¡¯t satisfied!


    Lifting his gaze, his fists clenched as he stared at the illusion of Oluwa, still smirking down at him.


    A shaky breath escaped him. He knew Oluwa wasn¡¯t really there, but Heba¡¯s words rang in his mind ¨C about how his goal was impossible.


    Subconsciously, he had told himself that if he couldn¡¯t even climb this staircase to the top, how could he ever hope to save Inayah?


    A bitter chuckle left his lips. Then, slowly, it grew into quiet laughter.


    His head hung low, shoulders shaking.


    From the Colosseum, the spectators could only see his trembling frame and assumed he was struggling against the unbearable weight.


    But inside his mind, clarity struck like lightning.


    ¡®I¡¯m such an idiot,¡¯ he thought, his fingers digging into his palm. ¡®I was so focused on making him my goal that I forgot my reason for doing all of this in the first place.¡¯ His laughter steadied into something softer, more resolute. ¡®Everything I¡¯m doing¡­


    It¡¯s for Yah-Yah!¡¯


    As if responding to his realisation, the illusion of Oluwa vanished. In its place, a new face emerged ¨C one infinitely warmer.


    Inayah.


    Her bright, innocent smile filled his vision, pushing away every doubt, every hesitation. And just like that, Jabari found his second wind. Or perhaps, his third.


    With every other participant unconscious, the instructors adjusted the recording device to focus solely on Jabari.


    Hovering in the sky in front of him, the device projected his image across the Colosseum. The audience, now fixated on his every move, collectively held their breath.


    What they saw next was shocking.


    Jabari¡¯s body shook violently with each step. His legs wobbled, his muscles screamed in protest, and the pressure crushing down on him was undeniable.


    But his face-


    His face told a completely different story.


    There was no sign of pain. No strain. No suffering.


    Instead, there was a smile.


    A smile so soft¡­


    A smile so gentle¡­


    A smile so warm, it could melt even the coldest of hearts.


    The entire Colosseum fell into a hushed silence. No one could tear their eyes away. It was as if they were trying to commit that expression to memory, desperate to understand-


    What was the cause of that smile?


    Heba¡¯s voice broke the stillness.


    ¡°Have you ever seen him smile like that before?¡± she asked, her gaze never leaving Jabari.


    ¡°All the time,¡± Inayah answered without hesitation. She spoke as if it were obvious, completely unaware of the weight of her words.


    Heba turned to look at her, studying her with an unreadable expression before sighing softly. ¡°I have to admit¡­


    I¡¯m a little jealous of you.¡±


    Inayah blinked in confusion. ¡°Me? Why are you jealous of me?¡±


    Heba¡¯s lips curled into a wistful smile. ¡°That smile he¡¯s showing right now¡­


    It¡¯s a smile meant only for you.¡±


    For a moment, the princess fell silent. Then, in a quieter voice, she continued, ¡°I¡¯ve never had anyone smile at me like that.¡±


    Her gaze returned to Jabari, watching him push forward despite the impossible pressure.


    ¡°For someone so young to have the willpower to reach the 90th step, they must have suffered through unimaginable hardship,¡± she murmured. ¡°Shocking? Sure, but it¡¯s not entirely unbelievable. The slums and suffering go hand in hand, after all.


    ¡°But for someone who has struggled that much¡­


    To still be able to smile like that?¡±


    Her fingers curled into fists.


    ¡°It¡¯s inconceivable!¡±


    Hearing Heba¡¯s words, Inayah frowned. She had seen that smile every single day for as long as she could remember.


    Then, realisation struck.


    It didn¡¯t matter how injured, exhausted, or ill he was ¨C Jabari would always smile at her like that. Whether he was telling her a bedtime story to lull her to sleep or listening intently as she rambled about her day after he returned from hunting, that gentle, unwavering smile was always there.


    It had been there her whole life.


    A deep pang settled in her chest.


    ¡°Am I a burden?¡± she asked softly, her tiny fists clenched tight as she stared at the floor.


    Heba parted her lips to reply, but before she could, Inayah continued.


    ¡°In the slums, boys often join hunting parties at around eight years old. Most of them only carry supplies or the day¡¯s catch, but Jari¡­


    He turned down those positions. The share of the hunt wouldn¡¯t have been enough to feed both of us.


    ¡°So instead, he taught himself how to hunt.¡±


    Her voice trembled, but she pressed on.


    ¡°At first, it was just fruits or even bugs. But before he gave them to me, he¡¯d always test them on himself first. Just to make sure they weren¡¯t poisonous.¡±


    She swallowed thickly.


    ¡°I remember the nights when he did get poisoned. He would try to hide it from me, but I could hear him in the dark ¨C retching, groaning in pain. Suffering.


    ¡°And yet¡­¡± Her breath hitched. ¡°No matter how much pain he was in, the moment he saw me, he would always smile like that.¡±


    The tears came before she could stop them, falling freely as she gazed up at her brother¡¯s face, still illuminated by that same gentle, unwavering expression.


    ¡°I was too young to understand back then,¡± she whispered. ¡°By the time I realised how much he had suffered for me, it was already too late to change anything.¡±


    A heavy silence stretched between them.


    Then-


    ¡°You are a silly girl,¡± Heba said, drying her own eyes for the second time that day. ¡°Look at his face.¡±


    Inayah blinked, confused, but did as she was told.


    Her heart ached just seeing that familiar smile, but then-


    ¡°That smile isn¡¯t for you,¡± Heba murmured. ¡°It¡¯s because of you.¡±


    Inayah¡¯s breath caught in her throat.


    ¡°If you weren¡¯t in his life, he would¡¯ve been swallowed by the darkness of his environment. You¡¯re not his burden, Inayah¡­


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    You¡¯re his light.¡±


    A look of shock flickered across Inayah¡¯s face. She had never thought about it like that.


    ¡°You might not be able to give him what he gives you,¡± Heba continued gently, ¡°but you give him something just as important ¨C if not more. You give him the strength to never give up.¡±


    Inayah¡¯s fingers trembled.


    ¡°If you truly want to give him something in return¡­¡± Heba¡¯s voice softened. ¡°Then give him your faith.¡±


    Inayah knew exactly what she meant.


    Jabari had made it his mission to risk his life to defeat Oluwa and save hers. Yet, despite everything he had done for her, despite all the burdens he carried without complaint ¨C she refused to believe in him.


    But that would change. Right now!


    Her lips parted, and though her voice was barely above a whisper, the words carried the weight of her entire heart.


    ¡°I believe in you!¡±


    Heba turned sharply, staring at the little girl beside her.


    Gone was the self-loathing that had shadowed her features moments before. Instead, Inayah¡¯s expression was radiant ¨C filled with unshakable trust and unwavering faith.


    Despite her frail, sickly frame, at that moment, she looked every bit as enchanting as her brother.


    Jabari had no idea of the impact his performance was having on the audience, nor did he realise the emotions he had stirred within them.


    His gentle smile remained as he finally stepped onto the 96th step.


    The invigilators watching the screen were silent in awe. Jabari had just matched the current record, but what truly shocked them was how stable he was. He was panting heavily, his movements sluggish, but he showed no signs of reaching his limit.


    ¡°This brat¡­¡± Jason muttered, shaking his head helplessly. ¡°He¡¯s really about to set another record.¡±


    Beside him, Kwame roared with laughter, pride swelling in his chest as if the accomplishment were his own.


    Jason, however, had no time to entertain his friend¡¯s bias. His eyes remained locked on Jabari before he turned sharply to Kwame, voice tinged with realisation.


    ¡°If he sets another record, he¡¯ll be tied with Zuberi ¨C both with two records each.¡±


    Kwame barely paused in his laughter before grinning. ¡°And? Why are you acting so shocked?¡± He clapped Jason on the shoulder. ¡°You know just as well as I do that this test is where we from the slums excel. If any record should belong to a slum resident, it should be this one!¡±


    Jason wanted to refute him, but he couldn¡¯t. Kwame wasn¡¯t wrong, though it did little to lessen his disbelief.


    Step by step, Jabari pressed forward, each movement painstakingly slow but never faltering.


    Forty-five minutes passed before he finally reached the edge of the platform. The entire arena was dead silent as all eyes remained glued to the screen, watching Jabari prepare to step onto the 97th step.


    ¡°This¡­


    This is impossible!¡± the man who had initially placed the bet stammered, his voice trembling with disbelief.


    His words echoed the thoughts of nearly everyone present ¨C including Heba.


    She had been the first to mention the possibility of Jabari setting a new record, but deep down, even she had believed it to be unrealistic. And yet, here they all were, watching history unfold before them.


    Jason exhaled deeply, shaking his head. ¡°His results will undoubtedly send shockwaves through the entire Institute.¡±


    Kwame grinned. ¡°Who knows? The Patriarch might even come out of seclusion to take him as a disciple!¡±


    Jason scoffed. ¡°As far as I know, the Patriarch hasn¡¯t stepped out of seclusion in almost two decades. As impressive as this kid is, unless he sets the record for all five tests, there¡¯s no way the Patriarch is leaving seclusion for him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just unnaturally biased because he¡¯s from the slums,¡± Jason added, rolling his eyes.


    Kwame, unwilling to admit his mistake, simply snorted and chose not to reply.


    Jabari¡¯s entire body trembled as he stepped onto the 97th platform. The pressure was immense ¨C far beyond anything he had ever experienced ¨C but his back remained straight. His knees did not buckle.


    His face, illuminated by the illusory image of Inayah¡¯s smiling visage, remained serene.


    An hour and a half passed as he painstakingly traversed the 97th step.


    He did it.


    By now, the audience knew better than to assume his limit. No one dared to predict how far he would go.


    All they could do was watch.


    Jabari took a deep breath and stepped onto the 98th step.


    The instant his foot landed, the pressure doubled.


    His body jerked violently as he staggered back, his foot retreating onto the 97th platform.


    A spectator, one of the many who had lost money to Heba in their wagers, sighed in relief. ¡°I guess his limit is only the 97th step.¡±


    "Only?"


    The voice that spoke belonged to the man sitting beside him, but the sheer disdain in his tone was enough to make several heads turn.


    ¡°Did you really just say only?¡± The man scoffed. ¡°Do you even understand what he just did? Out of the tens of thousands ¨C no, hundreds of thousands ¨C who have attempted this trial over the years, he is the very best. And yet you have the audacity to say ¡®only¡¯?¡±


    Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the crowd.


    ¡°Shameless!¡± others shouted, echoing his words.


    The man who had spoken shrank back in his seat, wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut before the crowd turned on him entirely.


    Heba, watching this unfold, couldn¡¯t help but chuckle.


    ¡®Jabari¡¯s really gone and converted half the audience into actual fans today,¡¯ she thought in amusement. Something they never would¡¯ve considered at the start of the day.


    It was something not even Zuberi ¨C her own little brother ¨C had been able to do.


    As the young master of one of Ulo¡¯s most powerful tribes, Zuberi breaking records was surprising but still expected. It was within the realm of possibility.


    But Jabari?


    A malnourished boy from the slums, defying every expectation, not once, but twice?


    ¡®I guess it¡¯s true¡­


    People really do love a good underdog story.¡¯ Heba shook her head with a smile before returning her attention to the screen-


    Just in time to see Jabari, once again, preparing to step onto the 98th step.


    Jabari¡¯s entire body was locked in a desperate struggle as he fought to stand on the 98th platform. The veins in his neck and temples bulged, his muscles taut with exertion, but his eyes remained fixed on Inayah¡¯s face. He was drawing from her ¨C her smile, her existence ¨C fuelling himself beyond what should have been possible.


    And then, finally ¨C he did it.


    Jabari stood tall on the 98th step.


    His body trembled violently, as if the faintest breeze could send him crashing down, but he remained standing.


    The crowd barely had time to process his feat before he moved again.


    A step.


    A shaky, barely-there step. It could hardly be called that ¨C he moved no more than a few centimetres ¨C but it was forward.


    And that was all that mattered.


    ¡°Is he really trying to complete the whole thing on his first attempt?¡± Jason muttered, his jaw practically on the floor.


    The minutes dragged on, stretching into hours.


    Almost two and a half hours later, Jabari finally reached the edge of the 98th platform.


    No one believed he could go any further. He was on his last legs, barely holding himself together. And yet ¨C not a single person dared to bet against him anymore.


    And rightly so.


    After taking thirty seconds to gather his strength, Jabari stepped onto the 99th step.


    On his first attempt.


    The moment his foot landed, his entire body trembled ¨C far worse than ever before. He was shaking so violently it looked as if the very air around him was trying to tear him apart. Even so, he refused to fall.


    Somehow, he managed to steady himself.


    Each step forward ¨C if it could even be called that ¨C was painstakingly slow, measured in mere millimetres. His body was under immense strain; his fists clenched so tightly that blood trickled from his palms, as if he were using the pain to force himself awake.


    Snake-like veins crawled up his arms, pulsing with an eerie intensity as if they sought to devour him whole. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth shuddered from the pressure.


    And yet ¨C his eyes never wavered.


    He never stopped looking at her.


    His progress was agonisingly slow. So slow that, at first glance, it seemed as though he wasn¡¯t moving at all. But if one looked closely ¨C if they traced the ground behind him ¨C it was clear.


    He was moving.


    For an hour, he pressed on.


    Twenty-five metres.


    That was all he managed in that time.


    Then-


    His foot caught.


    His balance wavered.


    And before he could stop it-


    He fell.


    Flat on his back.


    In the arena, an uneasy silence filled the air.


    The vast majority of the audience, whether they had realised it or not, had become invested in Jabari¡¯s struggle. And when they saw him fall ¨C when they saw his body sprawled out, unmoving ¨C so many clenched their fists in frustration.


    No one knew when it had happened ¨C when they had started caring so deeply about a slum-born teen¡¯s success. But here they were.


    Frustrated. On his behalf.!


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s it,¡± Jason muttered, a hint of unwillingness in his voice.


    Kwame sighed, equally regretful. He was about to end the round-


    Then he froze.


    Jason furrowed his brows. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Kwame didn¡¯t answer.


    Following his friend¡¯s gaze, Jason¡¯s breath hitched.


    Jabari¡­


    He was moving.


    Slowly ¨C painfully so ¨C but he was moving.


    On one knee, arms trembling, he was trying to stand up.


    Jason¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°Isn¡¯t he¡­


    Isn¡¯t he finished?!¡±


    Kwame, this time, had no response.


    His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his lips barely parting as he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Come on, kid. Get up.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t just Kwame.


    Back at the arena, the entire audience seemed to hold their breath as if collectively willing Jabari to rise.


    And at the centre of it all stood Inayah ¨C Jabari¡¯s biggest believer.


    Her small hands were clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched her beloved brother fight with everything he had. She prayed ¨C pleaded ¨C with every ounce of her being for him to find the strength to stand.


    She could see it.


    How much he wanted this.


    And for no other reason than that ¨C she wanted it for him, too.


    "STAND UP! STAND UP, JARI! STAND UP!"


    Her desperate screams tore through the silence, raw with emotion. And then¡ª


    The crowd joined her.


    As if her words had ignited something within them, the entire Colosseum erupted in unison, chanting his name, demanding his rise.


    The roar of thousands filled the air.


    And as if answering their call-


    Jabari stood.


    A deafening explosion of cheers followed, the sheer force of it shaking the very walls of the arena. Not that Jabari could hear them.


    His vision was tinged red, his body screaming in agony. He had bitten down so hard on his tongue that blood trickled from the corner of his lips, the coppery taste sharp on his tongue. But he held on.


    Because even now, through the blur, through the pain, his eyes found her.


    His baby sister¡¯s smiling image in the sky.


    And so, he moved.


    Slowly. Painstakingly.


    But he moved.


    An hour passed.


    He had covered thirty-five metres.


    Another hour and a half.


    He reached the halfway point.


    Two more hours and thirty minutes crawled by.


    He reached seventy-five metres.


    By now, the sky had turned pitch black, the only light coming from the full moon hanging among the stars. And yet, not a single spectator had left.


    No one wanted to miss it.


    The moment when Jabari ¨C the greatest dark horse the Institute had ever seen ¨C created history.


    Nine hours.


    The sun had risen behind him, casting his shadow across the stairway as he finally reached the edge of the 99th step.


    A single step away from the stuff of legend.


    His body shook violently. His muscles spasmed with every movement. He could barely stand.


    And yet-


    On his lips was a smile.


    A gentle, unbreakable smile, filled with an indomitable confidence that spread through the crowd like wildfire.


    Then-


    For the first time in twelve hours-


    Jabari spoke.


    "I won¡¯t fail."


    His voice never reached them, but it didn¡¯t have to.


    The audience read his lips, and at that moment, they understood.


    But only Inayah and those closest to him truly knew the weight of those words.


    Then¡­


    With unstoppable momentum¡­


    He took that final step.


    And in that moment, a miracle was born.


    Jabari stood alone atop the 100th platform.


    For a long time, he simply stood there, gazing back down at the countless steps he had conquered. His eyes swept over the hundreds of competitors lying unconscious across the stairway below.


    His chest rose and fell with exhaustion.


    Then, as if something deep within him had awakened, a wave of pride surged through his veins.


    A pride unlike anything he had ever known.


    A pride he never wanted to let go of.


    His lips parted ¨C his voice unwavering.


    "My journey starts here."

 Book 2: Chapter 1 – Arrival of the Elders

    ¡°Huh¡­ Where am I?¡±


    Jabari¡¯s last memory was of reaching the 100th step, but now, as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he realised he was back at the inn. His gaze softened when he noticed Inayah curled up beside him, her breathing steady in deep slumber.


    ¡®Fortunately, I didn¡¯t let you down.¡¯ A faint smile crossed his lips as he gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her peaceful face.


    ¡°She refused to leave your side for even a moment after we brought you back,¡± a quiet voice murmured from the corner of the room. Heba sat there, watching over them, her expression calm yet knowing. ¡°Though, she¡¯s spent most of that time unconscious herself.¡±


    Jabari glanced at his sister, a flicker of concern crossing his face.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry,¡± Heba reassured him, sensing his unspoken thoughts. ¡°She exhausted herself trying to stay awake during your climb, but she¡¯ll be fine once she gets some rest.¡±


    Jabari let out a slow breath, relief settling over him. He continued stroking Inayah¡¯s hair absentmindedly before turning to Heba. ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°A little over twenty hours.¡±


    His brows lifted in surprise. Not long ago, even an hour of sleep had been a luxury ¨C twenty hours was unheard of. But then again, recalling the bone-deep exhaustion he had felt before losing consciousness, it wasn¡¯t hard to understand why his body had surrendered so completely.


    ¡°Congratulations, by the way.¡± Heba¡¯s voice held genuine warmth. ¡°You¡¯ve officially set a second record with your score in the fifth round. With an achievement like that, the institute will take both you and your future far more seriously. It may be a small step in the grand scheme of things, but you are now officially closer to your goal.¡±


    Jabari nodded, his expression steady. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He didn¡¯t let the success go to his head. The trials had been an awakening ¨C stark and humbling. Witnessing the vast gulf between himself and someone like Amadi, who, in turn, was nothing before Oluwa, had only solidified his perspective. He was making progress, but he was still leagues away from where he needed to be.


    ¡°So, what happens next?¡± he asked, shifting his attention to Heba, his benefactor¡¯s striking features illuminated by the soft lantern light.


    ¡°Tomorrow is the award ceremony,¡± she explained. ¡°For most, the reward is simply admission into the institute. But for those of you who passed the fifth test and reached at least the 70th step, you will be granted the status of seeded students. That comes with three additional rewards.¡±


    Jabari listened intently as she continued.


    ¡°Firstly, since you¡¯ve already surpassed the 70th step this year, you won¡¯t need to retake the test next year, unlike the first years you competed against. Once your physical body reaches the required standard, you¡¯ll also receive a vial of beast blood, allowing you to finally become true Beast-Warriors. But given your malnourished state after years in the slums, that won¡¯t be happening anytime soon.¡±


    Her tone was matter-of-fact, but Jabari could hear the underlying warning. He would have to rebuild his body before he could even consider that step.


    ¡°Secondly,¡± she continued, ¡°you¡¯ll be given a top-quality weapon, crafted by some of the finest forgers in the institute.¡±


    Jabari¡¯s fingers unconsciously twitched at the thought. A proper weapon ¨C one worthy of battle.


    ¡°And finally,¡± Heba¡¯s gaze sharpened slightly, ¡°the most important reward ¨C you will have the right to choose a mentor from among the institute¡¯s Elders. They will personally guide you for the next year.¡±


    Jabari absorbed her words in silence, already understanding the weight of the decision ahead.


    ¡°With your near-impossible goals,¡± Heba added, ¡°I don¡¯t need to tell you how crucial it is to choose the Elder who can push you the furthest.¡±


    Jabari exhaled slowly. He couldn¡¯t afford to make the wrong choice. His future depended on it. He turned to Heba, his expression serious.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need your advice.¡±


    With a knowing smile, Heba reached into her pocket and retrieved several small flash cards, each bearing a portrait and a brief description. She handed them to Jabari.


    "On each card, you''ll find a short write-up on the Elders available for selection," she explained.


    Jabari accepted the cards, glancing at them before looking back up at Heba, his expression blank.


    "I don¡¯t know how to read."


    Heba blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Ah, I almost forgot ¨C you never would have received any formal education." Her tone turned apologetic. "Fortunately, the institute ensures that all students, especially those from the slums, are taught literacy upon entry. You won¡¯t have to struggle for long."


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Over the course of the day, Heba patiently guided Jabari through the details, helping him weigh his options. By the time morning arrived and the award ceremony loomed, he felt confident in his decision.


    With Inayah securely on his back, Jabari led the rest of his party out of the inn and back toward the arena. What he didn¡¯t expect, however, was the sudden shift in how people regarded him.


    Strangers recognised him. Some waved, others nodded respectfully. A few even went out of their way to offer congratulations.


    ¡°You may not have realised,¡± Heba said, observing his bewildered reaction, ¡°but your performance in the fifth round won over nearly the entire audience.¡±


    Jabari scratched his head, flashing a sheepish smile. He had never been one for the spotlight.


    ¡°That¡¯s obvious,¡± Inayah chimed in with pride. ¡°My big brother¡¯s the greatest!¡±


    As they reached the arena, Jabari bid farewell to Inayah and the others before stepping into the designated area for trialists. He ignored the lingering gazes from the crowd, but what caught him off guard was the attention he was receiving from his own peers.


    Jabari had never been shy, but he certainly wasn¡¯t used to being the centre of attention, especially in a setting like this.


    ¡°Jabari,¡± a smooth voice called out.


    He turned to see an handsome, dark-skinned youth no older than thirteen approaching him. The boy held out his hand with a practiced smile.


    ¡°My name is Lennox Ari, son of the Ari Tribe¡¯s Patriarch.¡±


    Jabari glanced at the outstretched hand, his mind momentarily blank. Lennox¡¯s smile faltered slightly as an awkward silence stretched between them.


    Then, Jabari recalled that handshakes ¨C strange as they were ¨C were a customary greeting. He extended his own hand, grasping Lennox¡¯s palm, though instead of the usual vertical motion, he shook it horizontally.


    A brief frown crossed Lennox¡¯s face. At first, he thought Jabari was mocking him, but upon seeing the young warrior¡¯s sincere expression, he remembered ¨C Jabari was from the slums. Proper etiquette wouldn¡¯t have been part of his upbringing.


    For the briefest moment, a flicker of disdain flashed in Lennox¡¯s eyes, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared.


    ¡°I just wanted to congratulate you on your results in the trials,¡± Lennox said, regaining his polished demeanour. ¡°You did incredibly well for a slum ra-¡± He hesitated, correcting himself. ¡°Resident.¡±


    Jabari remained impassive.


    ¡°I hope we can be friends once we enter the institute. As a show of my sincerity, the Ari Tribe would like to offer you twenty silvers for some spending money.¡± Lennox produced a small cloth pouch and held it out for Jabari to take.


    Jabari had grown up in the slums ¨C he understood all too well that there was no such thing as a free lunch. He also hadn¡¯t missed the disdain in Lennox¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Thanks for the offer,¡± Jabari said politely, ¡°but I don¡¯t need any money right now.¡±


    He turned away, intending to distance himself from the other trialists, but he barely made it a few steps before more approached him ¨C each eager to forge a connection.


    Though he had little interest in making friends with any of them or taking anything from them, he made sure to remain courteous, declining offers without outright offending anyone. Some of the female trialists even attempted to flirt with him, but he played dumb, causing them to assume that his time in the slums had left him ignorant of such things.


    The endless swarm of trialists vying for his attention was beginning to wear on him. Just as frustration started to creep in, the crowd suddenly parted, stepping back as someone approached.


    Jabari turned to see August striding toward him.


    The arena fell into hushed silence, trialists watching with bated breath, half-expecting a confrontation.


    Instead, August stopped in front of Jabari and, to everyone¡¯s shock, bowed his head slightly.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Jabari blinked. Before he could even respond, though, a voice boomed across the arena, drawing all attention to the stage.


    Kwame, the leading invigilator, had arrived, flanked by several powerful and imposing figures. The ceremony was about to begin.


    Each individual stepping onto the stage wore a uniform identical to that of Kwame and the other invigilators, with one key difference. While the deacons'' attire was grey with yellow tribal patterns, theirs were black with intricate bronze detailing.


    As Jabari scanned their faces, he recognised most of them from the picture cards Heba had shown him the day before. However, two stood out ¨C strangers he had not seen before.


    The first was an older man, towering at 6''6", his frame lean yet athletic. His full head of grey hair was neatly styled with a clean fade, and his sharp features carried the air of an unquestioned leader. But what truly set him apart was the colour of his uniform¡¯s tribal patterns. While the others bore bronze designs, his gleamed with the unmistakable hue of gold. That alone confirmed his authority ¨C he was the one in charge.


    The second unfamiliar figure was a pale brown-skinned man standing a little over six feet tall. His long, wavy jet-black hair cascaded just past his shoulders, framing a striking face dominated by piercing crimson eyes.


    At his side hung a sabre, its curved blade partially visible from its pitch-black sheath. The hilt, adorned with the carved head of a devil, exuded a menacing aura. But that wasn¡¯t what caught Jabari¡¯s attention ¨C it was his footsteps.


    Something about the way he walked fascinated Jabari, though he couldn¡¯t immediately place why. His steps were smooth, effortless even. Even when Jabari sharpened his spirit-enhanced sight, he saw nothing overtly strange. Yet, a nagging instinct told him there was something unnatural at play.


    Curious, he fused his senses, intertwining his sight and hearing to perceive both simultaneously. His eyes locked onto the man''s feet.


    Silence.


    Jabari''s breath hitched. No sound accompanied the man''s movements.


    He double-checked the other Elders, making sure he wasn¡¯t imagining things. As expected, he could hear their footsteps, some heavier than others. But when he refocused on the crimson-eyed man, it was as though he was walking on air ¨C silent, weightless.


    The more Jabari observed, the more peculiar it became. Every single one of the man¡¯s steps was identical in distance. The other Elders, no matter how precise their movement, had slight variations between steps ¨C natural inconsistencies. But not him. His pacing was inhumanly perfect, each stride measured to an exact degree.


    Jabari¡¯s gaze lingered too long. When he finally looked up, he found the man staring back at him, amusement flickering in his crimson eyes.


    Caught, Jabari offered a small, apologetic smile before quickly averting his gaze.


    The man held his gaze for a moment longer before turning away, moving toward the far side of the stage, taking a position separate from the others. Unlike the rest, he didn¡¯t seem to be there to take part ¨C only to observe.

 Book 2: Chapter 2 – I Choose Him

    Kwame stepped forward, clearing his throat. The murmur of the crowd died instantly, the weight of his presence demanding silence. His gaze swept over the gathered trialists, pausing momentarily on Jabari before he spoke.


    "First, let me start by saying congratulations to all of you for participating in this trial. For some, simply making it here was a trial in and of itself."


    Though he didn¡¯t say it outright, everyone knew he was referring to the trialists from the slums. Unlike those from noble or established tribes, they had no sponsors or guardians to ensure their safe passage. Many had been forced to travel through the wilderness alone ¨C an ordeal that, for most, was a death sentence.


    "However," Kwame continued, his voice firm, "the institute does not accept just anyone. We are an institution built on strength, resilience, and an indomitable will. Only those who prove themselves worthy may step forward and claim their place.


    "On behalf of the Western Branch of the Beast-Warrior Institute, I would like to welcome the following:


    "Ibrahim of the Uzo Tribe¡¯s Slums,


    Emmanuel of the Jaraki Tribe,


    Lennox Ari..."


    One by one, names were called. Of the 320-plus trialists, only 146 made the cut.


    Jabari blinked, surprised by the number. In his mind, the fifth round had been a real challenge, but the 33rd step? That had barely registered as a test to him. And yet, so many had failed to reach it.


    He glanced around, noting the crestfallen faces of those who had fallen short. At the same time, he realised something else ¨C every slum-born trialist who had made it to Hell¡¯s Stairway had at least reached the 50th step.


    ¡®I guess growing up in the slums has its benefits after all,¡¯ Jabari mused, his eyes sweeping over the dejected youths.


    Kwame allowed a moment for the weight of his words to settle before continuing.


    "To those called so far, congratulations. Though the year ahead will be the hardest of your lives thus far, you should take pride in what you''ve achieved. However, a select few among you have gone above and beyond.


    Would the following trialists please step onto the stage when their names are called:


    "August Owusu of the Owusu Tribe,


    Jamal Marley of the Great Shura Tribe,


    Danso Musa of the Musa Tribe,


    Azurian of the Great Shura Tribe,


    Chantelle Marley of the Great Shura Tribe,


    Chidi of the Nuwanu Tribe,


    Malia of the Bikara Tribe¡¯s Slums,


    And lastly, Jabari of the Great Khaldun Tribe¡¯s Slums."


    A round of applause rippled through the crowd as each name was called, but when it was Jabari¡¯s turn, the cheers erupted into a deafening roar.


    Only then did he truly grasp what Heba had meant ¨C he really had won over a lot of people with his last performance.


    He stepped onto the stage alongside the other seven, taking his place among them. Kwame offered him an encouraging smile before addressing the gathered trialists once more.


    "As a reward for your outstanding performance in the fifth round, the eight of you will be granted the rank of seeded students. This means you will receive additional rewards and privileges beyond mere acceptance.


    "Normally, rewards are distributed in order of total score, from highest to lowest," Kwame continued, his voice carrying an undertone of something deliberate. "However, due to exceptional circumstances, we have decided to make an adjustment."


    His gaze settled on Jabari.


    "Jabari, due to your unprecedented performance in the Test of Will ¨C not only finishing first but setting a new and virtually unbeatable record ¨C the Beast-Warrior Institute has decided that you will receive your rewards first, despite your total ranking placing you second from the bottom with a score of 15 stars."


    Jabari had already been informed by Heba where he ranked, so the low placement didn¡¯t surprise him. What did catch him off guard, however, was the institute¡¯s decision to let him claim his rewards first. That meant one thing ¨C he would have the first pick of mentors.


    Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the reactions of his fellow seeded students. His gaze landed on Jamal Marley, who was glaring at him with an expression bordering on hostility.


    Jabari understood why Jamal was upset. If their positions had been reversed, he might have felt the same way. But at the end of the day, this wasn¡¯t his choice. If Jamal had an issue, he was free to take it up with the Elders standing before them.


    Without acknowledging the unspoken challenge in Jamal¡¯s gaze, Jabari turned back to Kwame and stepped forward, standing beside him.


    ¡°As a seeded student, you are entitled to three rewards,¡± Kwame announced, his voice carrying across the silent arena. ¡°The first is a high-quality weapon, crafted by some of the finest forgers Ulo has to offer. With that being said ¨C do you have a weapon in mind?¡±


    He paused for a moment before adding, ¡°If you¡¯re unsure, you may wait until you enter the institute, where you¡¯ll have the opportunity to test various weapons before making a decision.¡±


    Jabari immediately recalled his conversation with Heba after the combat assessment. She had admitted that, not being a warrior herself, she wasn¡¯t the best person to advise him on weapons. But she had given him one piece of wisdom ¨C when in doubt, trust his instincts.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    And that he did.


    While he had been unconscious, Heba must have suspected his natural affinity for polearms, given his reaction to the glaive in the combat test. She had gone so far as to have Lateef procure a brochure detailing different types of glaives and spears. Since they were just images, he hadn¡¯t been able to use his spirit to assess them, but one had immediately caught his eye.


    So when Kwame finished speaking, Jabari didn¡¯t hesitate.


    ¡°I would like a standard adult-sized jagged ¡®Y-shaped Glaive,¡¯ please,¡± he stated firmly.


    Though she hadn¡¯t been able to guide him on which specific weapon to choose, Heba had warned him against selecting one that fit his current size. His body was still malnourished from his years in the slums, but with proper meals and rigorous training at the institute, that would change. His height and muscle mass would grow significantly over the next year. Choosing a weapon suited to his current frame would be foolish.


    Kwame opened his mouth to question the choice. From Jabari¡¯s performance, it was clear he had no real experience with the glaive. But when he met Jabari¡¯s steady gaze, unwavering in its resolve, he chose not to interfere.


    Nodding in acknowledgment, he moved on to the next reward.


    ¡°The second reward,¡± Kwame continued, ¡°is a vial of beast blood ¨C the key to becoming a true Beast-Warrior.¡±


    A ripple of envy spread through the crowd. Jabari could feel the weight of countless jealous stares, not just from his fellow trialists but from the spectators as well.


    ¡°The most critical factor in becoming a Beast-Warrior is willpower,¡± Kwame explained, his gaze sweeping over the trialists. ¡°The more resilient your will, the greater your potential upon transformation.¡±


    Jabari frowned slightly. That left him with more questions than answers. He had assumed the transformation relied primarily on physical strength or talent, but according to Kwame, willpower played the dominant role.


    ¡°However,¡± Kwame continued, ¡°due to your severe malnourishment and lack of physical conditioning, you cannot receive the beast blood just yet. But don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll definitely receive it before the end of the school year.¡±


    Jabari simply nodded. He had already heard as much from Heba.


    Kwame¡¯s expression shifted, a hint of anticipation in his tone as he announced, ¡°Your final reward is one that has even drawn the attention of our esteemed Western Branch¡¯s Supreme Elder.¡±


    Jabari¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze instinctively flicked toward the older man he hadn¡¯t recognised before ¨C the one who stood at the forefront of the Elders with his golden-patterned uniform.


    Heba had already told him that the Grand Elder, the second-in-command of the Western Branch, would sometimes make an appearance if a trialist crossed the 90th step. But the Supreme Elder? He had never once shown up in the history of the trials. Then again, no one had ever reached the 100th step before.


    ¡°The final reward granted to you as a seeded student,¡± Kwame continued, ¡°is the right to personally select your mentor from the Elders present on stage.¡±


    A hushed silence fell over the arena.


    ¡°Whoever you choose,¡± Kwame went on, ¡°will provide you with one-on-one guidance for the entire year. This decision is yours and yours alone. No one may interfere, and there will be no second chances¡­


    Choose wisely.¡±


    Jabari exhaled slowly. He had known this moment was coming, but now that it was here, the weight of the decision pressed down on him like never before.


    Jabari wasn¡¯t surprised by the information ¨C Heba had already told him about it. Still, he silently appreciated Kwame for indirectly pointing out that the imposing older man was the Supreme Elder.


    He knew the invigilator had done it for his sake. The frustrated, helpless expressions on the other Elders¡¯ faces made it clear ¨C they had all been hoping to be chosen. Someone with Jabari¡¯s potential was a rare find, and every single one of them wanted to be the one to mould him.


    As he prepared to make his decision, Jabari replayed his conversations with Heba in his mind. She had explained that, among the 14 Elders of the Western Branch, only three were truly worth considering.


    The first was the Grand Elder, Nala Asare.


    Standing at a towering 6¡¯5¡± with a build as solid as a fortress, she carried twin battle axes strapped to her back like they weighed nothing. Heba had told him she was the strongest among those likely to appear today ¨C second only to the Supreme Elder himself, though he was unlikely to appear ¨C Grand Elder Nala is a fierce, dominating warrior, known for her raw power. She was so fearsome that people called her the Humanoid Beast of the West.


    But Jabari had no interest in the axe, nor was brute strength his path. No matter how powerful she was, she wasn¡¯t the right choice for him.


    The second option was Elder Idir.


    He appeared to be in his early thirties, just under six feet tall, with a thin sword at his hip. His long, curly hair was tied into a bushy ponytail, and he stood with a casual, almost playful smile. His charm made him the centre of attention, especially among the female trialists.


    Even though he was a swordsman, Heba had suggested him for one key reason ¨C his reaction speed was unmatched.


    Jabari had already demonstrated remarkable reflexes, and she believed Elder Idir could push that talent even further. It was an intriguing possibility, but in the end, the sword wasn¡¯t his path either.


    The final option was Elder Zaire.


    The embodiment of serenity. His calm aura had an almost hypnotic effect on those around him. Standing just over six feet tall, his light skin, short curly hair, and piercing blue eyes gave him a distinct presence.


    Zaire was a master of the spear, famed for his fluid movements and unmatched flexibility. According to Heba, he was the best spearman in the Western Institute ¨C perhaps even in the entire Institute.


    If Jabari truly had such a high affinity for the glaive, then despite the differences between it and the spear, Elder Zaire was likely the best choice for him.


    More than that, Zaire had something else in common with Jabari ¨C he had once been a slum resident himself. He had risen from nothing, carving a path for himself through sheer determination. That alone made him the most compelling of the three.


    But there was one more possibility. The one Heba had called the perfect choice, though she had believed he wouldn¡¯t be here.


    The Supreme Elder.


    A spear-wielding warrior said to have unparalleled reflexes, capable of striking an opponent¡¯s weakest point with frightening precision. While his pure spearmanship was rumoured to be slightly inferior to Zaire¡¯s, his overall strength was second to none in the Western Branch.


    Jabari¡¯s gaze drifted over the Elders, pausing on each of his shortlisted choices. He could sense the faint anticipation in them ¨C each hoping to be chosen.


    The only ones who seemed unaffected were the Supreme Elder, who looked as if he couldn¡¯t care less, the Grand Elder, whose attention was oddly fixed on August behind him, and the brown-skinned man with crimson eyes, who still seemed more like an amused spectator than an actual Elder.


    Finally, Jabari¡¯s gaze settled on the Supreme Elder.


    A ripple of frustration passed through the other Elders, as though they had already guessed his decision. Some even shot accusing glares at Kwame, who coughed lightly and looked away, pretending not to notice.


    ¡°I can choose anyone on the stage?¡± Jabari asked, wanting to confirm.


    Kwame nodded. ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡±


    Jabari took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his mind was clear.


    He raised a hand and pointed.


    ¡°I choose him.¡±


    The entire arena followed his finger, straight to the crimson-eyed man standing quietly in the corner.