Final Test Part: 4 (Shaheem's P.O.V)

Chapter 11

Shaheem walked through the forest with his usual calm, twirling a flag lazily in his left hand. The distant cacophony of explosions, clashes, and shouts surrounded him, but he remained unbothered. His steps were slow and measured, his sharp gaze scanning the forest for a place to rest.

"I need to find somewhere quiet," he muttered, brushing a low-hanging branch out of his way.

Unbeknownst to him—or so it seemed—a group of five students stalked him from the shadows, moving stealthily between trees.

Their leader, Jackson, had short, spiky black hair and an air of cocky confidence. Dressed in a loose hoodie and ripped jeans, he radiated determination as he signaled for his team to remain silent.

To his right was Lydia, a tall girl with piercing green eyes and a sharp tongue. She wore a plain white t-shirt and athletic leggings, her movements precise and calculated.

Behind them was Mark, a stocky boy with a shaved head and a no-nonsense demeanor. His casual plaid shirt and dark jeans barely concealed his muscular build.

Carmen, a girl with dark skin and curly hair pulled into a loose bun, brought a quiet intensity to the group. She wore a sleeveless top and cargo pants, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any sign of traps.

Lastly, Elijah, a wiry boy with a nervous energy, followed closely. His blond hair was messy, and his oversized jacket hung loosely on his thin frame. Despite his nervousness, his quick reflexes made him an essential part of the group.

"You think he sees us, Jackson?" Lydia asked in a low voice.

"Even if he does, it's one against five," Jackson replied, his tone dismissive.

"Yeah, but where's his team?" Mark questioned, narrowing his eyes. "I checked the area—they're nowhere nearby."

"Maybe he was kicked from his team," Lydia suggested, smirking.

"Unlikely," Carmen cut in, her voice steady. "From what I've observed, his team has been close-knit. They're clearly friends outside of this test."

"Then maybe they got taken out," Mark offered. "Or split up to cover more ground."

Carmen gave a slight nod. "That's more plausible."

"Doesn't matter," Jackson interjected, his voice firm. "He's got a flag, and we're going to take it."

Ahead of them, Shaheem sighed softly, glancing over his shoulder as if sensing their presence.

"They really don't understand the meaning of subtlety," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

He continued walking until he found himself in a large clearing. At the center stood a single tree, tall and sturdy, its thick branches providing a natural canopy. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow over the area.

A small smile tugged at Shaheem's lips. "Perfect," he said softly.

He walked to the tree and sat down at its base, leaning back against the rough bark. Twirling the flag between his fingers, he closed his eyes, seemingly relaxed.

But his senses were sharp as ever. His eyes opened slightly when he noticed movement at the edges of the clearing.

"Ah, two more teams," he murmured to himself.

On cue, two additional teams emerged from the shadows, joining Jackson's group.

The first team had an air of overconfidence. Their leader, Ryan, was tall and lanky, dressed in a black leather jacket over a red shirt. He carried a steel baton, twirling it idly as he smirked at the other groups. His teammates—Mia, a petite girl in a cropped hoodie and cargo shorts, Evan, a scruffy-haired boy with fingerless gloves, Tina, a broad-shouldered girl in athletic wear, and Kyle, a quiet boy with glasses—stood behind him, exchanging smirks as if the flag was already theirs.

The second team exuded quiet competence. Their leader, Sophia, had short-cropped hair and wore a tactical vest over her t-shirt. Beside her stood Aaron, a calm and stoic boy who carried a collapsible staff, Leah, a sprinter with braided hair, Victor, a broad-built boy with a serious expression, and Ellie, who twirled a slingshot in her hand.

As the three teams faced each other, tension crackled in the air.

"This flag is ours," Ryan declared, pointing his baton toward the tree.

"Not if we take it first," Sophia shot back, her voice steady and cold.

Jackson stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "You're all wasting time. Let's settle this quickly."

The teams began bickering, voices rising as they argued over strategies and alliances. Shaheem, still leaning against the tree, let out an audible sigh.

"They're acting like I'm not even here," he muttered, shaking his head.

The temperature in the clearing began to rise subtly at first, then steadily, as Shaheem's irritation seeped into his surroundings. The three teams paused mid-argument, glancing at one another in confusion.

"Is it… getting hotter?" Lydia asked, fanning herself.

The heat continued to climb until it became oppressive. Beads of sweat formed on foreheads, and the air felt thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe.

"What's going on?" Ryan demanded, glancing around.

Shaheem flicked his gaze toward them, his expression calm but sharp. "Oh, are you finally paying attention?"

The teams stared at him in shock, realizing too late that they had underestimated him.

Suddenly, the oxygen in the air seemed to vanish. Some of the students began gasping, clutching their throats as they struggled to breathe. Others dropped to their knees, their energy drained by the intense heat.

Shaheem watched impassively as they fell one by one.

The students observing the test erupted in a mix of awe and unease.

"Did you see how effortlessly he handled that?" one student asked, eyes wide.

"He didn't even get up!" another exclaimed.

In another corner of the arena, Chevelle, Jhai, and Thai watched intently, discussing the scene.

"Shaheem's approach is… different from the others," Chevelle remarked.

"Strategic," Jhai added. "He doesn't waste energy."

"And he's ruthless," Thai said, a hint of admiration in her tone.

Their attention briefly shifted to the other screens, showing Daniel perched in a tree and Sarah wreaking havoc.

"Three very different styles," Jhai observed.

"But all are effective," Chevelle concluded.

Within minutes, the clearing was silent, save for the faint sound of labored breathing from a few stragglers. The first team lay unconscious, their skin beet red as if from heatstroke. The second team showed signs of oxygen deprivation, their chests heaving as they tried and failed to catch their breath. The third team exhibited a mix of both, their bodies twitching faintly.

Shaheem stretched lazily, turning off his ability. "Not everyone can handle superheated air," he remarked casually. "I should probably turn this off before someone dies."

He glanced around at the unconscious bodies, then leaned back against the tree, hands behind his head.

"Now," he said softly, closing his eyes. "Time to sleep."

Chapter 11: End