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 – 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 – against you and anyone else here – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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.

At the 45th step, he spotted Malia – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – the one that had once favoured him – 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.