Kente sat in the dimly lit chamber of the Royal Vessel, his forehead still tingling from the awakening of his idol ability. The circular bead that had appeared on his forehead pulsed faintly, radiating a cool blue-white light. He could feel it—not just as something attached to him, but as something deeply him.
He had awakened.
But what did that really mean?
The room smelled of old incense, dried herbs, and the faint metallic tang of blood from the previous trial. The air was thick with an energy he hadn't noticed before, as if his senses had sharpened overnight.
Across from him, Adris Matamalah, the seasoned Juju warrior, crouched against the wooden wall, arms folded, watching him carefully. The man's presence was always unnerving—his face partially hidden behind an aged cloth mask, his eyes scanning Kente as if reading an ancient text.
"You feel it, don't you?" Adris finally spoke, his voice low but firm.
Kente exhaled sharply. "Feel what?"
Adris chuckled, shaking his head. "That thing inside you. It's alive, isn't it?"
Kente's fingers twitched. He hadn't told anyone, but he did feel something. Something that wasn't there before. It wasn't just power—it was awareness. Like another presence lingering within him, watching, waiting.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kente muttered, looking away.
"Liar." Adris uncrossed his arms and stood. His long robe fluttered slightly with his movement. "You're afraid. That's natural. Most people who awaken their idol abilities get drunk on the power. But you… you're hesitating."
Kente clenched his fists. "I'm not hesitating."
"You are," Adris countered. "You haven't even tested it yet. You haven't even asked what it wants."
Kente flinched. What it wants?
A sharp knock on the door cut through the tension.
"Matamalah," a voice called from outside. "The Sturmguards are gathering. The priestess is calling for the boy."
Adris sighed and turned toward the door. "Looks like you don't have time to hesitate anymore."
A Gathering in the Arena
Kente followed Adris through the winding wooden halls of the vessel. The deeper they walked, the louder the murmurs became—whispers of anticipation, excitement, and curiosity. By the time they emerged into the central chamber, a large crowd had formed.
The Sturmguards stood in formation, their heavy armor polished to a near-black shine. Their presence alone was enough to send shivers down Kente's spine. These were not ordinary warriors—they were elites, handpicked by the priestess herself.
At the center of it all, standing on a raised platform, was her.
Miss Wolo.
Her dark robes billowed despite the still air. A single golden bangle jingled softly on her wrist as she raised a hand for silence.
"Kente," she called. Her voice, though calm, carried an unshakable authority. "You have awakened."
Kente stepped forward, swallowing the knot in his throat. "Yes."
The priestess nodded slowly. "Then we must see what you are capable of."
A low murmur ran through the crowd.
"Tonight, you will be tested in combat."
Kente's stomach twisted. He had barely understood what his new power even was, and now he was supposed to fight?
Miss Wolo's gaze never wavered. "You carry something ancient within you, something unknown. It must be measured, or you will never master it. Do you understand?"
Kente exhaled. "I understand."
The priestess turned to the Sturmguards. "Prepare the arena."
A Predator's First Hunt
The underground arena was a large, open chamber lit by fire torches. The walls were lined with ancient carvings depicting battles of warriors past. A heavy, humid air filled the space.
Kente stood in the center, his muscles tense. Across from him, his opponent stepped forward.
Sophia Nanny.
The moment he saw her, his heart sank.
Sophia was a skilled combatant, someone who had already proven herself in battles before. Her Juju ability—Goat Eye—was famous for allowing her to see an opponent's movements before they even made them.
She rolled her shoulders, her expression unreadable. "You ready, scavenger?"
Kente forced a smirk, trying to mask his nerves. "You sure you wanna do this, Tamara? Hate to mess up that pretty face."
Sophia snorted. "You talk too much."
She moved first.
One moment she was standing still, the next, she had closed the distance between them.
Kente barely had time to react before her fist slammed into his gut.
Pain exploded through his body, sending him staggering backward. Damn. She's fast.
Sophia pressed forward. Another hit—this time, her knee shot up toward his ribs.
But something changed.
For a split second, Kente felt something shift within him. The bead on his forehead pulsed, and suddenly, his body moved on its own.
He twisted at an unnatural angle, narrowly avoiding the attack.
His hands—guided by something beyond his own will—flashed up, forming a barrier of pure energy. Sophia's knee struck it, but instead of breaking through, she was repelled backward.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Kente stared at his own hands. What… was that?
Sophia landed, quickly regaining her footing. She wiped her mouth, eyes narrowed. "Not bad, scavenger."
Kente looked up. The circular bead on his forehead pulsed again, as if laughing at him.
This fight was far from over.
Exhausted but exhilarated, Kente stumbled back to his room. The events of the day replayed in his mind like a fever dream. What power had surged through him? And who, or what, was controlling it? Sleep offered no escape; the bead on his forehead throbbed relentlessly, keeping him awake. As the first rays of dawn pierced the horizon, Kente knew this was just the beginning. He had to learn to control this newfound power, or it would consume him.