Jabari's steps remained steady as he pushed the memory of slapping Amadi to the back of his mind. There was no point dwelling on it now. His focus was on the climb.
On the 85th step, he spotted a few first-years collapsed in exhaustion, their bodies sprawled against the stone as if sleep had claimed them mid-stride. Just ahead of them, Jamal was gritting his teeth, every step a battle against the invisible force weighing him down. His muscles trembled, and his breathing was ragged, but he refused to stop.
Jabari passed him with ease, his pace unfaltering. Jamal didn't even notice until all he could see was Jabari's retreating back. He was too drained to react, too consumed by his own struggle to care. Every ounce of his willpower was spent just keeping himself upright.
Jabari couldn't help but feel a flicker of respect. He had initially dismissed Jamal as just another talented but arrogant young warrior in the making, but watching him now – pushing forward despite his body's protest – he understood. To have reached this point and still refuse to give in required an iron will.
On the 86th step, he caught sight of Azurian. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and Jabari noted the flash of surprise in the swordsman's gaze before it vanished behind his usual mask of indifference. Yet, the signs were there – the faint trembling of his limbs, the sluggishness in his movements. He was struggling.
Jabari thought back to Danso, then Jamal, and now Azurian. It wasn't just talent that set them apart from the others of their tribes. No doubt, they had better resources, but more than that, their willpower had been forged through relentless effort – through years of pushing their limits every single day.
'This kind of strength isn't given. It's built.'
He had little patience for those born into privilege who mistook their circumstances for superiority, but for warriors who had truly earned their place, he could only acknowledge their efforts.
Back in the Colosseum, all eyes were fixed on him. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they watched him ascend step after step, passing one challenger after another. Even those who had scoffed at his origins couldn't ignore the sheer determination he displayed.
Some whispered in awe. Others frowned in thought.
What kind of life had he lived to cultivate such unyielding resolve?
Jabari, however, was oblivious to their speculation – and even if he had known, he was too tired to care.
By the time he reached the 89th step, a wry smile tugged at his lips. He had only just rid himself of the nightmares and the constant fatigue that had plagued him for years, yet here he was again, exhaustion clawing at his body. It wasn't quite as bad as before, but it wasn't far off either.
With a shake of his head, he shoved the thought aside and kept moving.
Up ahead, August's broad back came into view. The older boy was huffing, his chest rising and falling with deep, laboured breaths, but he didn't stop. Even as Jabari stepped beside him, August didn't notice. His entire being was focused on one thing – taking the next step.
His eyes were bloodshot, veins standing out against his skin from exertion, but what stood out most was the fire in them. That unwavering determination.
Jabari had felt a flicker of respect for Azurian and the others, but the respect he felt for August was far deeper.
It wasn't just August's strength or endurance. It was his character. He had never looked down on Jabari for being from the slums. He treated him as an equal. That alone was rare.
'I guess not all children of the tribes are that bad.'
Stopping at the edge of the 89th platform, Jabari inhaled deeply, bracing himself. He could already feel it – the pressure ahead was going to double once again. And yet, he stepped forward.
The moment Jabari's left foot touched the 90th step, an overwhelming force crashed into his mind like a tidal wave. His vision darkened at the edges, and for a split second, he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. But with a sharp clench of his teeth, he forced himself to endure. His body trembled under the sheer weight pressing down on him, but he remained standing – steady and unyielding – on the 90th platform.
"He actually stepped onto the 90th step on his first attempt?" Jason blurted out, his disbelief evident.
"The willpower of those of us from the slums isn't something you can begin to comprehend!" Kwame replied smugly, crossing his arms.
Jason shot him a flat look. "If I remember correctly, you only reached the 73rd step during our trials."
"Which was two steps higher than you!" Kwame shot back, a petty smirk playing on his lips.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He knew better than to argue when Kwame got like this. Instead, he redirected his attention back to the trial. "Which step do you think he'll reach in the end?"
Kwame's eyes remained locked on Jabari, his expression unreadable. "94th, maybe 95th if he pushes himself."
Jason scoffed. "You know just as well as I do that from the 90th step onward, the pressure doubles with each step. He might barely scrape the 93rd, but the 94th? That's impossible, even for him."
Kwame hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm, I wonder…" In truth, he knew Jason's assessment wasn't wrong. Still, he was hoping – no, willing – Jabari to shatter their expectations once again.
The arena was silent, all eyes fixed on the lone figure standing on the 90th step. In the long history of the Beast-Warrior trials, only six others had ever achieved such a feat. The sheer weight of the moment hung in the air.
That silence, however, was quickly shattered by an excited shriek.
"I knew it! I knew he was going to come first!" Inayah cried, bouncing up and down with unrestrained joy.
Heba laughed beside her, her voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "Others may have doubted your brother, but look at him now!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," one of the spectators grumbled, clearly part of a wager that didn't favour Jabari. "He's not first yet."
"Just wait," Heba replied confidently, brushing off the comment as she focused back on her brother.
Meanwhile, on the 90th step, Jabari took several deep breaths, steadying himself. His body had adjusted – barely – but the difference was undeniable. The moment he moved again, his speed had more than halved compared to the 89th step. And yet, his eyes burned with unwavering determination.
Halfway across the platform, he spotted a collapsed figure ahead – the boy ranked third among the first-years, fast asleep where he had fallen.
Only then did Jabari realise just how much the pressure was affecting him. He had been so focused on resisting that he hadn't even noticed his own posture – his back hunched, his head bowed as if the weight itself had forced him into submission.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his head up, muscles screaming in protest. The 100th platform loomed in the distance, hazy and almost unreachable. Above it, the illusory image of Oluwa's smirking face peered down at him, taunting him from the skies.
Something ignited within Jabari – a deep, burning rage.
His feet stopped dragging. His spine straightened. His chin lifted.
His movements no longer carried the sluggishness of one merely enduring; they carried the resolve of a warrior pushing forward, refusing to break.
Jason's eyes widened at the sudden transformation. "What just happened?"
Kwame smirked, his eyes gleaming. "I don't know," he said, amusement lacing his tone, "but do you still think the 93rd step is his limit?"
Jabari's pace had slowed to a crawl, but his steps remained firm. Without even realising it, he had crossed onto the 91st step. The moment his foot landed, the pressure on his mind doubled once more, forcing him to move even slower. Yet, his face betrayed nothing.
His focus was locked on Oluwa's distant figure, an unwavering beacon drawing him forward. So intent was he on his goal that he failed to notice the frustration flickering across the face of the girl ranked second among the first-years as he passed her on the 92nd step. The unwillingness in her eyes was clear – she had been overtaken, and she hated it.
By the time he reached the 93rd step, his movements had become even more laboured. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat poured from his body in streams, soaking his clothes. The mental weight pressing down on him was suffocating, but his eyes never wavered from the illusory image of Oluwa above.
He barely registered the two figures ahead – one, the first-ranked first-year, and the other, a boy from the middle ranks of their year. They were locked in a silent battle, step for step, neither willing to concede.
Their movements were sluggish, their legs trembling under the immense strain. They had long since stopped speaking, their energy reserved solely for moving forward. But with each agonising step, they turned to meet each other's gaze, wordlessly declaring their resolve:
I will not lose!
Then, they saw him.
Jabari.
Their initial shock was unmistakable. Their tired eyes widened as disbelief flickered across their faces.
But just as quickly, that disbelief transformed into something else – an unspoken challenge.
Without a word, they acknowledged him as a new rival.
Back at the Colosseum, silence reigned.
Every spectator sat frozen, watching as Jabari now stood shoulder to shoulder with the two battling for first place. The unthinkable had happened.
"I-Impossible…!" the man who had placed the initial bet stammered, his face pale with disbelief.
Heba chuckled, enjoying the moment far too much. "Are you ready to pay now?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.
The man flinched, his fingers twitching.
"He hasn't won yet," another gambler quickly interjected, desperation clear in his tone.
"Pay now, pay later," Heba merely shrugged, completely unbothered. "It makes no difference to me. The result won't change."
Her words sent a ripple of frustration through the crowd, especially among those who had bet against Jabari. Their expressions twisted in barely contained fury, but there was nothing left to say.
All they could do now was pray – pray that somehow, against all odds, Jabari didn't finish first.