The exam dimension pulsed like a living thing, its heartbeat trapped in the cold, unyielding stone beneath Kente's boots. The air hung heavy, thick with the resonant hum of juju seals that locked the space tighter than a vault. He crouched low in the cracked plaza, his tag, a small, engraved pendant thumping against his chest like a second pulse. The bead tied to his ribs flickered faintly, a weak ember of light stirring as Umvelina's daughter, the sentient idol within, shifted restlessly. Behind him, the rift bridge loomed, its ancient stones still trembling.

Vayne's sabotage had nearly plunged the top twelve contenders into the void, and now the capital's massive screens encircled the venue, their harsh glow slicing sharp shadows across the restless crowd outside. Zaria's silver eyes glinted from the stands, her worry a silent thread tugging at the air. Inside, the Sturmguards' armor clinked softly as they patrolled, their runes pulsing a steady blue-white, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath the surface.

Kente's breath caught in his throat, a sharp hitch as a shadow slithered through the misty haze ahead. Zuri stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, a venomous swagger in every step. His red eyes glinted like fresh-spilled blood, piercing the dim light. His twin tag swung at his throat—a mirror to Kente's own, but darker, its swirl twisted and cold. "Well, well," Zuri drawled, his voice smooth and sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade across silk. "Still kickin', huh, Kente? I figured you'd be ash by now, scattered somewhere in the void after that bridge stunt."

Kente's jaw tightened, his voice rough as it clawed its way out. "Zuri—what's this about?" His ribs ached, a dull throb pulsing in time with his tag. Memories scratched at the edges of his mind—sealed tight by WanLanden's watchman long ago, but fracturing now, leaking through the cracks. The orphanage flickered into focus: golden robes swaying in the heat, TheSun's deep, rolling laughter, kids screaming as fire roared up the walls and swallowed them whole. He shook his head, forcing the images back. "What're you playing at?"

Zuri's smirk widened, cool and cruel, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head. "Oh, you'll see, brother. It's for the best—trust me. You've always been too stubborn to know what's good for you." He flicked his wrist with a casual grace, and the air split open—a ripple of Harvester juju surging forth, dark and slick, coiling like smoke rising from a dying fire. Behind him, a figure emerged from the haze: the Harvester leader, towering and draped in gold robes that shimmered like spilled oil against his midnight skin. Runes etched across his flesh pulsed red and cold, a stark contrast to his pale, flowing hair. His crimson eyes glowed with a predatory intensity, and a low hum emanated from him, bending the edges of reality into something sharp and jagged.

Chioma's growl rumbled low beside Kente, her claws sliding out with a metallic scrape. "Bastard—what's your play here?" she snapped, her voice a rough edge of defiance. Tamara's shell flickered weakly, crumbs dusting his tunic as he shifted nervously, while Prophet Mirror's hawk flared into sharper focus, its illusory wings slicing through the air with a shrill cry.

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The Harvester leader's gaze locked onto Kente, his voice slithering out, low and serpentine. "TheSun's little experiment—corrupt juju, sealed tight inside you. A sentient idol, festering like a wound. We're here to rip it out." His hand rose slowly, fingers flexing as if savoring the moment, and the stone beneath Kente's feet shuddered. A dark, blood-red hand erupted from the ground—an underground demon claw, its jagged grip snaking toward his boots, eager to clamp down and hold him fast.

Kente's tag burned hot against his skin, the bead flaring bright as he twisted aside, dodging the claw by inches. Instinct took over, his own hum syncing with the idols inside him to push back against the assault. "What're you talkin' about?" he snapped, his voice raw with confusion and fury. But Zuri stepped closer, cutting him off, his red eyes softening for a fleeting moment.

"They promised me they'd pull it out—save you," Zuri said, his voice dropping low, almost pleading now. "I gave 'em my soul for it, Kente. Didn't want you dead—not then, not now. You're my brother, even if you don't remember it."

The Harvester leader's laugh broke the moment, a slow, guttural sound that rolled through the plaza like distant thunder. "Save him? Oh, no, boy. The process kills—rips the soul apart along with the idol. And you—" His crimson eyes pinned Zuri with a cruel glint. "You bear my power now. You're mine, slave eternal. You can't resist my will, no matter how much you squirm."

Zuri's face twisted—shock flashing into rage. "You lying—" He lunged at the leader, his fist igniting with borrowed Harvester juju, a dark glow pulsing around his knuckles. But mid-step, his body froze, trembling violently as the leader's hum tightened around him like invisible chains. "Move, damn it!" Zuri snarled, his voice cracking with desperation, but his limbs betrayed him, locked in place like a puppet dangling on strings.

"Fool," the Harvester sneered, his lips curling. "You're a tool—nothing more. A means to an end."

Outside, the screens flared brighter, the crowd gasping in unison as Zaria's silver eyes widened, fear etching lines across her face—for Zuri, for Kente, for the chaos unfolding. In her capital chamber, the Priestess jolted upright, her hands gripping the arms of her seat as she sensed a ripple she couldn't pin down—a disturbance in the juju that thrummed through the dimension. Sturmguards barked orders beyond the seals, their runes flaring as they hammered at the portal, but the exam's design held firm—none could enter unless they were already inside. Time stretched thin, useless and mocking.

The Harvester leader turned back to Kente, his hand stretching out with deliberate menace. "Enough games. Let's crack you open and see what's inside." His hum surged forth, a crimson wave crashing into Kente's chest like a tidal force. Pain exploded through him—ribs cracking audibly, memories flooding in a torrent: TheSun's hands pressing something into his core, a boy's wild grin, a girl's fierce glare, fire and death consuming everything. The corrupt idol stirred deep within him, awake at last, its presence a weight he couldn't shake.

Kente stumbled back, clutching his chest, his breath ragged as the plaza trembled beneath him. The leader's eyes gleamed with triumph, his voice a low hiss. "There it is—feel it waking up? You can't fight what you are, boy."

But something snapped inside Kente—a raw, untamed surge building in his core. He straightened, his tag and bead pulsing in unison, and a blast of aura erupted from him, wild and unrestrained. The dimension shook—stone cracked underfoot, screens flickered erratically, and the Harvester leader staggered back, his robes whipping in the sudden wind. Chioma shielded her eyes against the glare, Tamara's jaw dropped, and Prophet's hawk screeched, its wings flaring wider. Outside, Zaria leaned forward, whispering, "What's that?" The Priestess rose to her feet, her voice a murmur: "A power unbound."

Kente's knees buckled, his body slumping to the ground, unconscious but radiating aura like a storm unleashed. The plaza fell silent, save for the faint hum of his power echoing off the broken stone.