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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – barely noticeable – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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.

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 – 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 – whether they liked it or not – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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.