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 – 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 – that unyielding certainty.

Hope stirred in her chest against her will. It terrified her – 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 – 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 – 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."

"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 – two hundred metres long and a hundred metres wide – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – the first glimpse of the calibre of competition he'd be facing.