As predicted by Elder Yared, Chidi barely managed to reach the second stretch of the sixth round before his run ended.
When the announcement came, he exhaled heavily and turned his gaze toward Jabari. The more he thought about it, the more foolish he felt. With how the water trial was structured, he'd been able to keep an eye on Jabari's performance throughout this round.
In doing so, it was made clear – painfully clear – that Jabari had been holding back.
Every movement Jabari made had been smoother, deeper, and more precise than his own. And yet, he'd stopped the moment he'd reached the five-star benchmark.
For Chidi to have beaten him in the lightning assessment, Jabari would've needed to regress over the last six months – a ridiculous idea, given everything he'd just witnessed.
As a result, it was all too obvious now. Jabari had simply chosen not to try.
'No wonder he didn't care about his "loss",' Chidi thought with a self-mocking smile.
As the students began dispersing, Deacon Mariama approached the group, her eyes landing squarely on Jabari.
"Why did you stop?" she asked softly.
Chidi, who had half-opened his mouth to answer – thinking the question was for him – froze mid-breath and awkwardly slinked away upon realising she was addressing Jabari.
"I achieved what I needed to," Jabari replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Mariama tilted her head slightly, studying him. "Don't you want to show everyone how far you've really come?" Her tone was curious, not judgmental. After all, most youths in his position would've pushed themselves to the brink – if not for personal pride, then at least to show off to their peers.
But Jabari merely repeated, "I achieved what I needed to."
It was then that the realisation dawned on her. He'd already received five-star scores in all previous assessments. Even if he only got three stars in this final test, he would still be eligible to choose from four of the five elemental paths. That level of achievement would be enough to satisfy the pride of even the most elite prodigy.
"I understand," she said with a warm smile before turning to rejoin her fellow deacons.
Soon after, Jabari and the others – who, by now, felt more like background characters in the Jabari show – were ushered toward the final trial: the Test of Earth.
As they approached the stone-marked ground, Jabari noticed the ten runic formations arranged like spokes on a wheel, each carved with intricate symbols that pulsed faintly beneath the midday sun.
"The Test of Earth is your final assessment," the overseeing Deacon announced. "Each of you will step into one of the formations. Once activated, gravity will steadily increase inside the circle. For every thirty seconds you remain standing, your score will increase by one star."
His gaze swept across the students. "Any questions?"
No one spoke.
The Deacon nodded in satisfaction and motioned for them to take their places. Then he placed both hands onto a smaller formation etched into a nearby boulder. As it lit up, the surrounding circles flared to life – runes pulsing and glowing as the trial began.
Jabari immediately felt the change.
A crushing weight seemed to fall upon his body. His muscles tightened, joints compressing as if invisible chains were pulling him downward. Even the simple act of rolling his shoulders demanded deliberate effort. His whole frame strained against the rising pressure.
Yet rather than discomfort, a euphoric grin crept across Jabari's face.
'Training under this kind of pressure would multiply my growth… I could progress several times faster,' he marvelled, already fantasising about incorporating it into his daily regime.
Off to the side, Aziz palmed his face and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"Doesn't this brat know how to think about anything other than training?" he muttered to himself.
From the blissed-out, lovesick expression plastered across Jabari's face, there was no doubt what was going through his mind.
Aziz could already tell – his disciple wasn't thinking about the difficulty of the trial, or the crowd watching, or even the upcoming duel with Gichinga.
Instead, he was thinking about how to make this training method a part of his everyday life.
A true addict, through and through.
Almost a minute and a half had passed when-
"Ugh!"
Jabari turned slightly, just enough to glance toward his left – and what he saw sent a ripple through his chest.
Malia's face was taut with agony. Her brows were deeply furrowed, her eyes bloodshot, and her lips were drawn back as she bit down hard enough to draw blood. Her legs trembled violently, threatening to give way at any moment, but the fire in her gaze – fierce, unrelenting – told a different story.
"Malia, that's enough! You've done well!" Elder Amari called from the sideline, his usually stern voice laced with worry.
But Malia, gasping for air between each laboured breath, shook her head defiantly. "Not yet!" she croaked.
Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but the resolve in it echoed like thunder. It was raw, determined… desperate.
Amari's fists clenched tightly by his side. He wanted to storm the field, to rip her out of that formation and put an end to her suffering – but he hesitated. He saw it… that look in her eyes.
He understood better than anyone. As her mentor, and the only person who had ever shown her warmth, he knew just how much she yearned to prove herself. To walk the same path he did. To not be a disappointment to the one person she respected most.
Endurance had always been her weakest attribute. She trained with unwavering dedication, enduring pain daily to bridge the gap. But despite her efforts, her progress lagged behind. And now, witnessing Jabari – someone from a background so similar to hers – effortlessly breeze through test after test, her frustration and desperation had only intensified.
Then came the sound.
A sickening pop echoed through the air.
No one had time to react.
Amari vanished from the stands in a blur, reappearing in the next instant with Malia cradled protectively in his arms. His expression was a storm of guilt and pride, and a single tear traced silently down his weathered cheek.
"Malia, 2 minutes and 1 second – four stars," the Deacon announced solemnly.
The audience sat in stunned silence before slowly erupting into quiet murmurs of awe and respect. It wasn't her score that earned their admiration – it was the sheer force of will she'd demonstrated. To push herself that far, knowing her own limitations…
It was nothing short of remarkable.
But there was no time to linger on emotion.
"Chidi, 2 minutes and 11 seconds – four stars."
All heads turned as Chidi dropped to one knee, the formation beneath him flickering and fading. He exhaled through gritted teeth, doing his best to remain composed. For an attribute he struggled with, it was still a solid result.
Now, only two remained – Jabari and Gichinga.
"I won't lose to you in this event!" Gichinga snarled, glaring daggers at the boy beside him. His body trembled under the weight of the gravity, but it was nothing compared to the chaos within his heart.
Jabari turned slowly.
He didn't speak.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown.
He simply looked at Gichinga.
And in that look – calm, unreadable, and devoid of even a flicker of concern – Gichinga saw something far more terrifying than rage.
Disdain.
It was as if Jabari was silently declaring: You're not worth the effort.
"I already reached the five-star level last month…" Gichinga spat through ragged breaths. "There's no way I'll lose to you again…
You're just a slum rat…
You don't belong here!
You could never compare to me!"
The more he ranted, the heavier his breathing became. His chest heaved, not just from the gravity, but from the weight of Jabari's silent dominance. That unflinching stare, devoid of acknowledgement, bore into him deeper than any insult could.
It was like being crushed under a mountain of indifference.
And then it happened.
Gichinga dropped to his knees, coughing and wheezing as the runic glow of his platform dimmed.
"Gichinga Omondi: 2 minutes and 29 seconds – four stars," the Deacon announced, his voice impassive.
Gichinga hadn't just failed to surpass Jabari—he'd done worse than last month.
Before he could even register the humiliation, the deacon's voice rang out again.
"Jabari: 2 minutes and 30 seconds – five stars."
There were no cheers. No gasps.
Only stunned silence as Jabari, for the fifth time in a row, did exactly what was needed to achieve a five-star score – no more, no less.
And once again, without acknowledging the murmurs, the whispers, or the crushing presence of the Supreme Elder watching overhead, Jabari calmly stepped off the platform, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Forcing himself to raise his head, Gichinga caught sight of Jabari.
His rival's face was slick with sweat, his breathing shallow – but despite that, Jabari walked off the stage with composed steps, no signs of weakness in his posture. There was no hunch, no hesitation, no limp. Only calm confidence.
But it wasn't that which crushed Gichinga the most.
It was the way Jabari walked right past him… as if he didn't exist. No glance. No smirk. Not even a flicker of recognition. It was as if the person Gichinga had been desperately yearning to humiliate and resenting for months, didn't even see him.
Jabari took his place beside Chidi, folding his arms as he waited for the prize-giving ceremony to begin.
But the Deacon had barely opened his mouth before a voice rang out like a thunderclap across the field.
"Before the prizes are given," the Supreme Elder's voice echoed, cold and overbearing, "Jabari and Gichinga must complete their duel."
All eyes snapped toward Diallo.
Shocked whispers burst out in waves across the gathered crowd.
"He still wants to test him?"
"After everything he's shown today?"
"This is insane…"
But the Supreme Elder remained unmoved, arms behind his back, his voice firm and emotionless.
"This is an institute for warriors. While your physical prowess matters, it is secondary to your ability to wield it. Without actual combat capability, strength is meaningless."
He cast his gaze directly at Jabari. "I admit your physical attributes are passable. But if you cannot prove yourself in battle, my decision stands – your status as a seeded student will be revoked."
Even the most tactful Elders grimaced.
It was a disgrace. Jabari had shattered expectations, dominated every assessment, and proved beyond doubt that he was anything but lazy. And yet, the Supreme Elder refused to yield even an inch. Anyone with eyes could see this was no longer about merit – it was about pride. About control.
Still, no one dared object.
No one except Grand Elder Nala.
"Diallo, that's en-"
Her words were cut short by a voice that sent ripples through the crowd.
"Fine by me."
The entire field froze.
Heads turned to see Jabari, still calm, still unreadable, speaking with the same indifferent tone he'd used all day – as if the announcement bore no weight whatsoever.
The silence that followed was broken by Grand Elder Nala's urgent voice, laced with concern.
"Aziz, speak to your apprentice before he makes a mistake he can't come back from!"
She turned to the man beside her – only to see Aziz's trademark smirk playing on his lips, crimson eyes shining with devilish amusement.
"He's capable of making his own decisions," Aziz replied nonchalantly. "And frankly, I agree with the Supreme Elder."
"What?!" Nala blinked, her brow twitching with disbelief.
"What's the point of spending six months in a warrior's institute," Aziz continued, "if you still haven't learnt to defend yourself?"
The way he said it, so casual, so certain – it made the Elders shift uneasily in their seats.
"Wait…
Are you saying," Nala asked slowly, "that on top of everything he's already achieved, Jabari also learned how to fight?"
Aziz's grin widened.
"Just watch."
And with that single statement, all eyes turned once more to the centre of the field.
Where two rivals – one consumed by pride, hatred, and resentment, the other cloaked in silence and purpose – stood moments away from battle.
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