Dragging his aching body to the door, Jabari opened it slowly, expecting perhaps another student or a messenger. Instead, he found Elder Zaire standing at the threshold – calm, composed, and unreadable as always.
Jabari's expression immediately brightened – his spear instructor had always been one of the few figures at the Institute who commanded not only respect but a sense of reassurance. But the moment he looked into Zaire's eyes, the greeting died in his throat. There was something subtle behind the Elder's still mask – a shadow of heaviness, tightly reined regret.
It took Jabari only a heartbeat to understand why.
"Jabari," Zaire said without preamble, "you and your Master have been summoned to stand trial for your crimes against the Institute."
There was no ceremony. No gentle lead-in. Just the cold truth delivered with the weight it deserved. And though Zaire's voice was steady, Jabari could feel the reluctant blade hidden beneath his words.
"Took you lot long enough," came Aziz's voice from deeper within the home, light and irreverent. "I was starting to think you'd decided to turn a blind eye to the whole thing."
Zaire turned his eyes toward the approaching figure, watching as Aziz strolled toward them with the easy swagger of someone either unfazed by consequence – or so far beyond it that it simply didn't matter.
"Woahhh, what's with that scary expression?" Aziz asked, raising his hands in faux surrender, a grin tugging at his lips.
Zaire's hands twitched. Not from fear, but fury.
To him, this wasn't just about the violation of Institute protocol. It was about Jabari.
He had watched Jabari grow these last few weeks; he had seen the raw, unmatched potential in his techniques, his instincts, and his spirit. In Zaire's eyes, Jabari wasn't just a prodigy; he was the future. A future that now teetered on the edge of ruin, thanks to one man's selfishness.
Aziz.
Zaire saw this entire situation as nothing short of manipulation. Taking the boy as a disciple, nurturing him, only to use him as a stepping stone toward becoming a Beast-Warrior. Whether or not that was the truth didn't matter – Zaire believed it, and his grip tightened around his spear at the thought.
But he didn't act.
He took a deep breath, steadying the storm within, and said with a voice as cold as stone, "Let's go."
Jabari shot his Master a look – part warning, part plea. In response, though, Aziz merely shrugged, as though none of this had anything to do with him.
Together, the two followed Elder Zaire into the deeper, more exclusive sections of the Institute – the domain of the Elders.
As they walked, Jabari couldn't help but marvel at the increasing luxury of each residence they passed. Towering stonework, sculpted gardens, glowing formation arrays – each one seemed worlds apart from the squalor of his childhood.
"I'm surprised Diallo didn't come to get us himself," Aziz mused aloud, his voice casual as he strolled beside Zaire. "Was he not afraid I'd make a run for it?"
Zaire didn't answer. But his knuckles whitened around his spear shaft.
Aziz chuckled softly. "Relax, tiger. I didn't say I would run. I'm just saying, it's obvious you all think I'm guilty, and with all the 'evidence' they should've gathered by now, they should know you're not enough to stop me…"
He trailed off, glancing over his shoulder.
"…even with the support of Elders Idir and Yared."
Jabari blinked, taken aback by Aziz's statement.
And then, as if summoned by name, two figures stepped out from their respective hiding spots.
Elder Idir and Elder Yared.
The three Elders moved into a loose triangle, surrounding them with Zaire at the front, the others flanking from behind. Jabari suddenly felt like a prisoner being led to execution.
"How did you find us?" Elder Idir asked, eyeing Aziz with narrowed interest. "I admit that surveillance isn't exactly my forte, so I can understand how you might've spotted me, but Yared?"
Even Elder Yared, usually aloof and disinterested, was staring intently at Aziz's back, his gaze sharp with restrained curiosity.
"His concealment is the finest in the western branch. Maybe even among all the outer branches of the Institute."
Aziz paused, tilting his head ever so slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "In due time, gentlemen. In due time."
Then, he turned his gaze on Yared. "But don't take it too personally. My ability to sense you has nothing to do with your techniques. In fact…" he paused, letting his words sink in, "I have to admit, you're not a half-bad assassin."
Yared's jaw tightened at the veiled insult. The words were said with a tone that could've been praise, but from Aziz, they dripped with a subtle condescension.
The Elders bristled, trying to make sense of how he had detected them. But Jabari already knew. He didn't need to guess.
It was their blood.
Aziz's bloodline ability didn't just grant him the ability to manipulate; it also allowed him to feel the presence of others through the flow of blood in their bodies. No matter how still they stood, how well they masked their spiritual presence, they couldn't hide what flowed beneath their skin.
"You don't seem nervous," Elder Idir observed, his gaze lingering on Aziz with the scrutinising intensity of a predator watching a creature it couldn't quite understand. Then his eyes flicked to Jabari. "Neither of you do."
"Why would we be?" Aziz replied smoothly, lips curling into a knowing smirk. "We're both innocent. Unless…" He turned his head slightly, his gaze turning sharp as he locked eyes with Idir. "You're saying the truth doesn't matter, and you're just out for blood…"
The words themselves were calm. But the moment they left Aziz's lips, a suffocating pressure rippled outward like an invisible storm. The air thickened, charged with unseen force, as if gravity itself had warped beneath his will.
Instantly, all three Elders reacted – springing backward with instinctual speed, placing distance between themselves and the man at the centre of it all. Their hands hovered near their weapons. Their eyes, wide and alert, locked onto Aziz with a new, sobering caution.
Aziz, of course, continued walking as if nothing had happened.
"But I doubt the prestigious Beast-Warrior Institute would ever be so overbearing," he added airily, his tone lighter than it had any right to be.
Jabari paused, glancing back at the Elders, who had just flinched like startled animals. He didn't sense anything unusual. But when he noticed their stunned expressions and how tight their grips had become on their weapons, he reflexively did the same, muscles tensing, hand tightening around his glaive.
Yet one glance at Aziz's relaxed face told him what he needed to know.
His Master had done something. Something that the Elders had felt, and he had not.
"Do you have to provoke everyone you see?" Jabari asked with a weary groan, trailing behind the man who carried chaos like a cloak.
The three Elders exchanged glances, the unspoken question ringing loud in the space between them: Just how powerful is he?
Yared and Idir realised then, with dawning horror, the scale of the gap that separated them from the man they had believed they could handle. If Aziz had truly wanted to escape, how many Elders would they have needed to stop him? Ten? Twenty?
Would any number have been enough?
Zaire, for his part, remained silent. He had already accepted that Aziz was virtually untouchable within the Western Branch. But that didn't ease the bitterness in his heart – not when he thought about Jabari. It wasn't Aziz's arrogance that burned him most – it was that Jabari, the most promising polearm-wielder the branch had seen in decades, might be dragged into the abyss alongside him.
Still, he pushed the thought aside and led them forward, Elder Idir and Elder Yared now keeping a far more cautious distance.
"We're here," Zaire said flatly as they approached a massive dome-shaped structure crafted from smooth, glistening black wood.
"Nether Wood…" Jabari muttered, awe in his voice.
"This is the Central Hub," Zaire explained, stepping toward the broad arching entrance. "The most famous building in the entire Institute. It houses everything from training halls and food courts to blacksmith shops and trade centres."
Jabari's eyes widened as they entered. The interior was massive, almost like a small village within a dome. Brightly lit stalls, intricate formations glowing faintly across the walls, and a cacophony of voices – some bargaining, some training, some simply talking. Teenagers in older uniforms he didn't recognise moved between vendors, bartering goods or showcasing their wares.
"Why have I never heard of this place before?" Jabari asked, spinning slowly as his eyes soaked in the vibrancy of it all.
"It's not a secret," Zaire replied, continuing forward. "Most students know about the Central Hub before they even arrive. But it's only open to second-years and above."
"Where do the second-years stay, then?" Jabari asked, still taking in every corner.
Elder Idir chuckled. "You really don't pay attention to anything but your training, do you?"
Jabari scratched his cheek sheepishly but didn't deny it.
Idir continued, smiling with mischief in his voice, "First-years are kept isolated on purpose – so you can focus on building your foundation without distractions. This hub here acts as the barrier between the freshman campus, the Elders' residences and the rest of the main Institute grounds.
When you become a second year, that's when you'll officially join the rest of the students in the Western Branch."
He then glanced at Jabari with an exaggerated shrug. "Well, I say you, but that depends on whether you're even allowed to see your second year after today."
Zaire halted and glared at Idir, disapproval written clearly across his face. But the playful Elder only grinned, unaffected by the scowl.
Despite the looming tension, neither Jabari nor Aziz flinched. They remained composed – one out of trained resolve, the other out of a confidence so overwhelming, it defied the very notion of fear.
Whatever the trial would bring, they were ready to meet it.
Or, in Aziz's case, unbothered by it entirely.
Jabari was still taking in the grandeur of the Central Hub when Zaire's voice cut through the air – its previous frost now melted into something closer to weary resignation.
"In here."
The Elder slid open a set of tall, ornate double doors. A faint creak echoed through the corridor as the weight of what lay beyond spilt out like a tide pressing down on Jabari's chest.
He stepped through first, Aziz sauntering in beside him.
Instantly, a suffocating pressure descended on him.
A row of Elders sat behind a long, elevated desk, their gazes sharp and unwavering. Cloaks of status draped across their shoulders, yet it was the stillness of their presence that unnerved most. And at the centre, unmoving, with his eyes closed like a meditating statue carved from granite, sat Supreme Elder Diallo.
His indifference was more terrifying than open hostility.
Jabari's eyes swept to the side. On a stone bench to the left, the Seeded Students sat, their expressions as varied as their personalities.
Among them was Malia. He hadn't laid eyes on her since the night of the beast tide.
Danso had told him the students who'd been inside the building during the attack had been knocked unconscious by Silver's mental assault. Malia had suffered other injuries, too. Enough that her Master had pulled her from their morning training to oversee her recovery personally.
She looked much better now. Colour had returned to her face, and though she sat still, there was a quiet steel in her gaze.
Next to her sat Chidi. He didn't acknowledge Jabari with more than a slight nod – directed more toward Yared, his mentor, than anyone else.
Chantelle, by contrast, stared at him with open curiosity. She'd heard the rumours of his achievements the night of the invasion, just like everyone else. She examined him with narrowed eyes, sizing him up like prey, and then scoffed when his gaze passed right over her without pause.
Further down, Jamal sat with his eyes shut, mimicking the posture of the man who trained him. But as Jabari entered, those eyes flicked open – just long enough to mark his presence – before closing again, as if he had seen all he needed to see.
Then came Danso and Azurian, their guilt worn plainly across their faces. Jabari caught their eyes and offered them a calm, confident smile. A quiet reassurance.
They returned it with small, uncertain ones of their own, but the unease in their posture betrayed them. Whatever truths they'd divulged to the Elders, their guilt still lingered.
Lastly, Jabari's gaze locked with August's. No words passed between them – only a single, steady nod.
The pressure in the room swelled again, but Jabari remained composed. His composure, in fact, was what most surprised the gathered Elders.
They were no ordinary warriors. These were some of the most powerful Beast-Warriors in Ulo. Their presence alone could crack lesser wills. The force they exuded was not deliberate – but natural. A quiet reminder that they stood on peaks far above the average.
They had expected Aziz to remain unfazed – he had already proven himself more than capable of contending with them. But Jabari?
They'd thought the boy would flinch, at the very least. Yet he stood still. Unbothered. Unbowed.
It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't ignorance. It was something forged in pain, trial, and countless days of breaking and rebuilding. Six months of training under Aziz had refined Jabari's already impressive will like molten steel hammered into shape.
What the Elders called intimidation, Jabari had already lived through – and overcome.
That, though, changed when Supreme Elder Diallo opened his eyes.
The moment those aged eyes met his, the weight in the room changed.
Suddenly, it was no longer the presence of many pressing down on Jabari, but the focused weight of one. A pressure deeper, older, colder than anything Jabari had yet felt.
It wrapped around his bones and flooded into his lungs. His knees didn't buckle, but only because he refused to let them.
Then, the Supreme Elder spoke.
"Killing a fellow student and giving the Beast-Warrior blood meant for you to a foreigner…"
His voice cut like a blade across silence – calm but sharp enough to draw blood.
"Do you accept your guilt?"
The words reverberated through the chamber, slicing away every breath of noise until all that remained was the question.
And all eyes turned to Jabari.
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