Book 2: Chapter 24 – Master & Disciple

'So that's why you were asking all those questions this morning.' August's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Jabari kneeling in the centre of the arena.

Their early-morning training had gone just like any other – grit, sweat, and silence. But for the first time, Jabari had lingered after finishing his sets, his tone unusually casual as he struck up a conversation.

He'd brought up Malia. Specifically, her becoming the official disciple of Elder Amari.

At the time, it had caught August off guard. Jabari wasn't one for idle chatter, let alone for indulging in academy gossip. But now, it all made sense.

He hadn't been asking out of curiosity. He'd been gathering information. Trying to understand the traditions and the steps. Preparing.

And now here he was, kneeling before his mentor for all to see, asking Aziz Amin – openly, without hesitation – to take him in as a true disciple.

The arena was silent. Still.

Stunned by what they were witnessing.

It was one thing for Jabari to have shattered every challenge Supreme Elder Diallo had thrown his way and then some. It was one thing to humiliate Gichinga in a duel so decisively that no one dared speak in the man's defence.

But to publicly reject the prestige of the institute's highest authority, and elevate a foreigner in his place?

That was audacity on another level entirely.

He had made a declaration – not just of gratitude or loyalty – but of legacy.

And now, the very air trembled under the weight of what might come next.

Jabari could feel every single gaze locked on him. It was just like the day of the selection – hundreds of eyes silently screaming that he was making the wrong choice. But now, instead of doubt, his heart brimmed with resolve.

Back then, he had chosen Aziz without understanding the full scope of what that decision meant. Choosing to trust his instincts over common sense.

This time, though, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Aziz had taught him more than just techniques or trained him physically. He had taught him how to live.

Still, as the seconds ticked on in silence, Jabari felt a pulse of anxiety beat against his chest like a war drum. Every moment felt like an hour.

Had he read it all wrong? Was this moment going to slip through his fingers?

Aziz stared at him – his expression unreadable, crimson eyes narrowed. It wasn't that he was angry or disappointed, far from it.

The truth was, he was stunned.

Aziz was never the type to show emotion easily. In fact, most people who knew him would've described him as aloof at best and wickedly sadistic at worst. But inside, his heart felt like it had been caught in a storm.

If hearing the reason behind Jabari's participation had warmed him, then this?

This was everything.

For six long months, he'd poured every ounce of his energy into Jabari's growth – not because he wanted a legacy or glory, but because he cared. Truly and deeply.

Aziz had seen the cracks in Jabari's façade – the suppressed pain, the self-imposed isolation, the burning need to carry everything alone.

And though their bond had grown, he had never once expected this.

Yet here the boy knelt, offering him something sacred. Not just loyalty, but also trust and love – the kind a son might hold for a father.

The weight of that crushed any words he might've prepared.

The entire field was frozen.

And then, at last, Aziz moved.

Three calm, deliberate steps forward. Jabari's glaive held firmly in his hand.

The wood gleamed under the sunlight, reflecting the light like a silver brand.

Everyone leaned forward slightly – breath held.

And then Aziz did something no one could've predicted.

Without a flicker of hesitation, he raised Jabari's glaive and launched it like a javelin.

Gasps rippled across the crowd as the weapon sliced through the air with a whistle, embedding itself into the ground mere millimetres in front of Jabari's knee. The impact left the weapon quivering in place, the earth beneath it cracked and splintered.

Several Elders immediately sprang to their feet, ready to encircle Aziz with defensive formations, their auras flaring in warning. Had he lost his mind? Was this a retaliation? An attack?

But before they could act, Jabari erupted.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! YOU COULD'VE KILLED ME, YOU SHITTY OLD FART!"

The crowd flinched – not from fear, but from surprise at the explosive shift in tone. The tension that had built to a breaking point was suddenly diffused by a burst of shouting and what could only be described as...

Bickering?

Aziz folded his arms and glared back with exaggerated indignation. "Serves you right, you brat! Since when did I need my snot-nosed disciple fighting battles for me, huh?!"

The arena was stunned into silence.

"You couldn't just say tha-

Wait…

What did you just call me?!" Jabari blinked, momentarily frozen as his brain caught up.

"A brat," Aziz replied matter-of-factly, lifting a brow.

"No, after that!"

"Ooh. Right. My snot-nosed disciple." A teasing smile curved his lips, sharp and proud.

Jabari's eyes widened. "You mean…

You accept?!"

"I thought the 'disciple' in 'snot-nosed disciple' was pretty self-explanatory," Aziz said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, as if the whole thing had been obvious from the start.

And then Jabari grinned. Not a smirk, not a smug curl of the lips. A full-blown, childish, radiant grin.

He wasn't even trying to hide it. It lit up his whole face, washing away the stoic intensity that had clung to him throughout the day. For the first time since coming to the institute, he looked like a boy – no, a son – who had finally found his place in the world.

Jabari felt a gentle lightness that warmed him from the inside out.

Aziz, watching the boy beam, felt a strange tightness in his chest. He wasn't typically one for sentimentality – but the look in Jabari's eyes, the sheer joy… it was everything. His lips twitched ever so slightly into a rare, sincere smile.

Then, with a blur, he disappeared.

The eyes of the spectators widened again as Aziz vanished from the centre of the Elder's circle without warning, only to reappear directly in front of Jabari, standing before the impaled glaive. It had been so fast that, to most, it looked like he'd simply teleported.

"Fast!" Nala muttered in surprise, her eyes narrowing. "Very fast."

Elder Idir chuckled softly. "Looks like 'they' were right after all… Mr Aziz is a little more than he lets on."

Only the most powerful Elders had been able to follow his movement. For everyone else – including most of the deacons – it had been a blur.

Jabari, unsurprisingly, also hadn't been able to follow his Master's movement at all.

But he didn't tense. He didn't panic. Not even a flinch.

Because despite how fast Aziz had moved, despite how overwhelming his presence could be, Jabari no longer felt threatened by it. Not today. Not ever again.

He had chosen to trust him completely.

A warm hand reached out, ruffling Jabari's messy little afro. The familiar gesture sent a wave of peace through his body, grounding him.

"Silly boy," Aziz said softly, barely more than a whisper. He didn't look at the crowd. Didn't acknowledge the Elders. His world, at that moment, was only the grinning, somewhat sweaty teen before him.

Jabari stared up at him, eyes glimmering with something deeper than pride.

Aziz patted his head once more, then turned around.

"Let's go."

And just like that, the two walked off the stage – Master and Disciple.

The Elders instinctively opened their mouths to stop them. The award ceremony had yet to take place. Protocol had not been completed. But not a single word left their lips.

As if sensing their unspoken protests, Aziz paused mid-step and turned around with the same casual defiance he always wore like a cloak.

"Nala," he called, his tone casual as ever. "I trust I'll be able to collect my disciple's reward tomorrow."

"He's earned it," she replied without missing a beat. "So no one can deny him of that."

Though her words were calm, everyone present could hear the sharp edge beneath them. A statement wrapped in courtesy, aimed straight at the Supreme Elder.

And then, just in case anyone had somehow forgotten, she added, "But as he has met the five-star standard for each element, he is free to choose to become a Beast-Warrior of any element."

The reminder sent a visible ripple through the student body.

It was a simple fact. A straightforward observation. And yet it struck like a thunderclap.

Five stars in every test.

Jabari could have chosen Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, or Lightning. He could have walked any path. The doors of the institute had opened wide for him, and he stood at the threshold.

Aziz looked down at his disciple, giving him a slight nod. It was subtle but clear: this moment belongs to you.

Jabari stepped forward, posture proud and unwavering. "I would like to become a Beast-Warrior of the Lightning Element."

No gasps of shock, no murmurs of disbelief. Just silence – heavy, awed silence. Of all the choices, Lightning was the most obvious. It was his best attribute, the one he'd mastered earliest and most dominantly. But despite how unsurprising the choice was…

It was still terrifying.

Jabari becoming a Lightning-Element Beast-Warrior was like giving wings to a tiger. Everyone present could feel it. His rise had only just begun, and already it was shaking the roots of the institute.

Aziz placed a hand on Jabari's shoulder. Without another word, the two departed.

Not long after, Chidi also stepped up to make his choice. Though he had achieved five-star results in both Water and Lightning, he, too, chose the path of Lightning.

The assessment for the rest of the students resumed shortly after, but none of the seeded students remained to watch.

Not because they were disinterested – but because they couldn't sit still anymore.

Jabari hadn't just raised the bar; he'd shattered it.

He'd been nothing but a malnourished, overlooked slum kid six months ago. Now? He was a genuine threat to every single one of them. His presence burned like a brand, igniting a fire in the hearts of even the most arrogant among them.

They no longer looked down on him.

But that didn't mean they'd allow themselves to be caught up to.

While the institute buzzed with renewed drive, Jabari sat quietly beside Aziz, the two of them on a worn bench within the quiet of the "old man's" training hall. The excitement of the day had faded, replaced by something calmer, heavier, and more real.

There was a stillness in Jabari's demeanour, a kind of solemnity that hadn't been there before. His fingers laced together as he stared ahead, then slowly turned to his Master.

"If I'm going to be your disciple," he said, voice steady but low, "there's something you should know."

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