The dawn of the second day of the Festival of the Forgotten brought a palpable sense of excitement to Mhlaba Town, with the rising sun casting long shadows over the Colosseum. The air buzzed with the anticipation of trials that would test the participants' endurance, both physical and mental. As the town stirred to life, the faithful and curious alike made their way to the Colosseum, eager to witness the Tests of Physical and Mental Endurance.
The Colosseum, bathed in the morning light, stood as a silent sentinel of the day's coming challenges. Its stone walls, adorned with banners depicting scenes of past glories and trials, seemed to breathe with the history of competitions that had taken place within its walls. The arena itself had been transformed overnight to reflect the rigors of the day's events, with obstacle courses, meditation zones, and combat areas meticulously prepared for the participants.
The Priest of Aegis, a figure of unwavering authority, stood once more upon the dais, his crimson and gold robes shimmering in the early sunlight. His voice, imbued with both reverence and command, reverberated through the Colosseum as he addressed the gathered crowd.
"Faithful and honorable competitors," he began, his tone solemn yet inspiring, "on this second day of the Festival of the Forgotten, we shall test not just your knowledge and faith, but your resilience and strength. Today, you will face trials that demand the utmost of your bodies and minds, pushing you to the very limits of your endurance."
The audience, a sea of expectant faces, fell into an attentive hush, the weight of the day's challenges settling upon them. The participants—Men of God and Guardians of Aegis alike—stood ready, their expressions a blend of steely determination and quiet resolve. They knew that today's trials would not just test their skills but their very willpower and spirit.
For the Men of God, the trials were designed to reflect their dedication and endurance. For the Guardians of Aegis, the trials emphasized physical prowess and tactical endurance.
As the Priest of Aegis concluded his address, the participants took their places, bracing for the intense trials ahead. The sun climbed higher, casting stark contrasts on the arena floor, as each challenge began to unfold under the watchful eyes of the judges and the eager gaze of the spectators.
The second day of the Festival of the Forgotten was underway, a day where endurance and resilience would shine, and only the most steadfast and dedicated would emerge triumphant. Here, within the ancient walls of the Colosseum, faith and strength would be tested, forging the next generation of champions for the Citadel.
Mandla stood ready. This was not his cup of tea, to be honest. He wanted to climb the ranks slowly and at his own pace. He wanted to absorb everything there was to learn about being a Novice and so forth. But they were already here, and Sizwe had convinced him to take a crack at the chance. Having a higher rank was not really a bad thing, but Mandla used to be a devotee of the Church, and now he was questioning a lot of things. The answers he needed, he could only get with a high rank.
Yesterday was okay; he won relatively easily. He had been studying the Codex of Restoration religiously, so he was ready. Unlike Sizwe, Mandla had entered the Man of God arena. He competed with his fellow scholars yesterday and won; now he was in the second round.
Winning wasn't important to him, and boredom was written all over his face. After a while, the match was announced.
The first test was the Pilgrimage of Endurance: A grueling journey awaited the participants as they set out across challenging terrain surrounding the Colosseum. This simulated pilgrimage tested their stamina and devotion, with judges assessing not only their time to completion but also their adherence to ritual practices and their ability to maintain composure under strain.
Novices were not that strong and durable. They had little endurance since they spent most of their time reading and preaching the good book. This was a tough one for them; most of them got tired easily. Mandla was dead last; he was in no hurry. This was not just about who made it first to their destination, but it was a test of stamina and composure in the face of difficulty.
He slowly started to pass people who had rushed as if it was a race. As a Man of God, one had to always remain composed and judge the situation well. The terrain was tough, but it was up to you to assess the best route for you and follow through. Some of the participants went in a straight line, which was the quickest, but found themselves with more obstacles.
Mandla was graceful and moved with knowledge and improvisation. His approach was smart yet a little unorthodox. Sizwe had rubbed off on him the wrong way. He now understood that it is not just about how you do something, but also about if it is getting done properly, easily, or more conveniently.
Sizwe had emphasized to Mandla that he should always do what is convenient. Doing the right thing was for the powerful and wealthy; for people like them, it was about what route was convenient. For example, a man with money and power can stop another rich and powerful man from abusing the innocent. But a poor and powerless man would just be another victim of the elites. In such a situation, a poor and powerless man is obligated to look the other way.
Although attempting to save someone from tyranny was the right thing to do, what right do you have to stand up to power while you are weak? In this world, the weak were devoured by the mighty. Even humanity was not safe from vile beasts that could take their life away in the night.
So Mandla was shameless in his methods, and the goal was the only thing that mattered. Not to say he did bad, but he did what was convenient.
In this first challenge, he started last but now finished first. It was amazing; this made the judges notice this young Novice. He was impressive.
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On the side of the Guardians, they had The Obstacle Course: Spanning the breadth of the arena, a formidable course of barriers, climbing walls, and perilous gaps challenged the Guardians. Points were awarded based on their agility, strength, and speed as they navigated this physical gauntlet, overcoming obstacles with efficiency and determination.
Nkazi was excited; it was his time to shine. It was time to redeem his embarrassing performance yesterday. Physical prowess was what he had. He was having a blast; it was easy for him. He trained every day, and this obstacle was a piece of cake. He jumped over barriers, and climbed walls, and he did it quickly. Ahead of him was an Acolyte and a female Guardian. She was swift and agile. She was amazing.
There was something weird, though. The Acolyte looked slow, and his movements were unimpressive, but no matter how Nkazi tried to move quicker, he couldn't catch up. When he began to observe the Acolyte, there were no wasted movements. He moved how he needed to and wouldn't stay in place to adjust. He was moving as if the obstacles were just suggestions. He was experienced.
The Acolyte started to catch up with the female Guardian. It was so weird; Nkazi could tell that the female Guardian was giving it her all and was trying really hard. But the Acolyte bridged the gap while not sweating a bit. He looked relaxed, even bored. In the end, Nkazi came in third place on the obstacle course. Second was an out-of-breath female Guardian, and first place was the lazy Acolyte.
Muke was beyond upset.
"How could this be?" She screamed in her head. She couldn't comprehend it.
How was she defeated by an Acolyte? Men of God were known not to have much physical prowess. More so, he didn't even look tired, while she was breathing heavily. Was she really so weak? Or was this man a monster?
Muke refused to be defeated. Although she was here to kick ass and take names, she was going to kick this Acolyte the most and take his name. She knew that the next challenge was the Marksmanship Trial: At the Colosseum's far end, targets of varying difficulty awaited the participants, who were tasked with demonstrating their precision and skill in shooting. Using both traditional bows and divine weapons, they were judged on accuracy, speed, and consistency, each shot scrutinized by sharp-eyed evaluators.
Although most Recruits were not able to hold a divine weapon, they were trained to handle prop weapons to practice with. The Citadel didn't have the resources to use real guns and ammunition to train recruits; that would be a waste of funds.
Muke took a deep breath; she had trained with a bow and she was really good. She had extensive training on how to hold the divine weapon. She was confident, but looking at the carefree Acolyte who was picking his nose, for the life of her, she still didn't understand why an Acolyte was competing in a Guardian competition. She wanted to ask the judges, but she didn't want to be embarrassed by not knowing the rules.
She looked at the Acolyte; he was now holding a worn-out Codex. He was reading casually while eating some grapes. He was like a king in his palace without a care in the world while they worked their asses off. To be honest, Muke was not the only one upset at the casual nature of this man. Other participants were now angry that to this man, their desire was not worth his full attention. He was not nervous at all.
Muke had finally had it. She went to the man and grabbed the Codex from his hand and closed it. She stared at the man sitting trying to intimidate him. Sizwe raised his eyes slowly looking at this beauty. He glanced around and glanced at the Codex.
"I was reading that," he said lazily.
"I know," Muke stared daggers at him.
Sizwe looked at this girl.
"To be honest, if she wanted the book she can have it," Sizwe honestly didn't care what her problem was. He was not gonna let her ruin his day. He just grabbed some more grapes and fed himself, forgetting about her.
Seeing this man not give her the time of day, Muke almost exploded with rage. As Sizwe was just about to bite on the grapes he had, Muke hit his hand and the grapes fell to the ground.
Sizwe's eyes changed. He looked at her with anger.
This is what Muke wanted, a reaction. Now she was satisfied.
Bang!
Muke didn't know what happened. It was swift and subtle. She felt pain in her stomach; for a few seconds, it was unbearable. She could only find comfort on the ground, wallowing silently in pain. She had just been gut-punched in a split second.
From the ground, she could see Sizwe dusting off his grapes. He paid her no mind.
"Who is this lunatic? How could he attack someone so unexpectedly? Had he no honor?"
Sizwe went back to eating his grapes. These grapes were very hard to find, and grapes were his favorite fruit. He didn't need to waste his breath on this beauty. What was important was his happiness.