The sky was exalted space. Not for the commons, not for the scrabbling rabble and their delusional power.

The sky was not a place for third peaks and their 'condensed cores'. The sky is not a space to be traversed by wannabes! Inflated mediocre talents that need artifacts to stay afloat. This space is earned! This space is bled for! Killed for! Massacred for! This space is earned by spending decades staring at arrogant seniors shitting and spitting upon your weak coil with disdainful looks. Eyes that don't need much to tell you that you do not matter. That you're not as impressive as you think you are. Humility earned this space.

And at this moment it was commanded by a sixth peak. The strongest entity around and when you can scan in a circumference of at least ten kilometres and find no equal then you deserved to enjoy the fruits of your labour and tolerate no insect in venerated Sky. "Oh yes. This is worth all of it".

Lukho contented himself with the earth. He contented himself with the work of the plebian. His calves stomped with joy as he basked in the forced humility he was currently living under. It was always such a shock of a reminder when it came; the academy teachers were kind to them. They were taught at a so-called "soft school". A less brutal place that moulded them with love and care and grace into competent practitioners instead of the "hard schools" that graduated less than half of their initial intake at the end of a thirty year study.

Their teachers did not walk in the sky to trample their dignity into the soil. Not even their headmaster. Such a thing was saved for graduation when they had stepped into the sixth peak. Each graduate would take their first flight then and tread upon venerated Sky with the people who helped them get there.

All in all, that practitioner in the sky was excellent motivation for him. A smack in the back of the head, certainly, but also a positive once he had looked past his unreasonable arrogance. "There's always a higher sky", that's how the saying went. An underlying part of reality that every practitioner lived under whether they chose to acknowledge it or not.

The beginning of the trials had been a lazy affair, a time for networking and building social bridges for the future. It was cordial greetings and courteous manners to expand on delightful first impressions. It has been three weeks since then, more than enough time to make the masks fall off false faces.

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The setting didn't help any, a verdant jungle with a humid temperature that seemed specifically designed to annoy! Clammy skin, persistent odour and a prick in glorious Sky meant the fledgling practitioners couldn't even use their artifacts to escape this nonsense. Now even new friends seemed not worth the effort. Which brings us to this lovely scene unfolding now - the bonds of new friendships.

A young practitioner was begging his new acquaintances, butt scraping on the ground as he used his feet to push himself backwards, a trembling hand raised to ward off the next certain blow. "Please, Sipho, you don't have to do this, my brother. We can share what I have, there's still a long way to go yet in the hunt, I can help you. Strength in numbers, friend," he capped it with a laugh, showing this could all be called a joke and he would hold no grudge.

"Uh, what's your name again?" The assailant seemed genuinely stumped. When you had swarms of the desperate genuflecting at you for your attention it becomes difficult to separate one unfortunate from another; especially when they brought nothing worth remembering.

"Does it matter? I don't think it matters," he swivelled to look at his two companions.

"It certainly doesn't," one of the accompanying bruisers supplied, enlightening no one.

"I'm tired of this forest and it's fucking heat, I'm tired of sharing this acrid air with savages like you, so I'm leaving. I'm done." He dusted his hands together to truly drive the point home. "But I can't leave with nothing".

The wriggling worm saw a way out of the bird's beak, a light begging it to get up and escape.

"Yes! Of course brother. You can't leave with nothing. It would be wrong of me not to share." The wronged got up, not even bothering to shake the dust off his clothes and went to the satchel strapped across his shoulder. He started taking out items from it, items brimming with chi and with each hand held out there was a pained look to his face.

After a full five minutes of giving tithe, the worm sagged in defeat, a high price to pay for its escape but it was out of the bird's beak. "You are a true friend, uh - you. Let none say I don't value my friends," the preening bird threw a stone struggling to emit chi at the worm's feet then turned around and left.

The man dropped to his knees as if his strings were cut, the awareness of his own cowardice now beginning to judge him from within. There are many ways to defeat a practitioner, but this was one of the most effective. You didn't just defeat them today but in the future too. An embarrassing defeat, enough to stunt any practitioners ascent.

Lukho kept watching from his hiding spot, replaying the disrespect and supplication he'd just seen. Supplication that ended in nothing but humiliation. What a world they lived in.