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 – 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 – 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 – one worthy of battle.

"And finally," Heba's gaze sharpened slightly, "the most important reward – 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 – 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."

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 – strange as they were – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – only to observe.