Jojo slowly got up; with this sweet, sweet impression that his mind was muddled but, strangely, he felt a myriad of knowledge emerging from the depths of his subconscious, as if they had been hidden there for years. It was…
Intoxicating… This feeling of being invincible was exhilarating, like an answer to his anger and indignation.
Who was he? Who was thinking? Was it his feelings that demanded so much destruction and violence? Or was it someone else's wish lurking deep inside him?
Was he Jojo Badji? Had he ever been Jojo Badji?
Futile, non-existent questions… Today, whatever the answer to his questions, he will only be one thing… A hell for those who brought him to this point.
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Have you ever had that omnipresent feeling deep inside you that makes you feel like your efforts are in vain? That feeling of having lost, even before having started the game, as if it were a fatality, a play of destiny already written in advance? Well, this feeling was not unfamiliar to Nabil, but, at 19 years old, he would never have believed that it would be a kid who looked barely into adolescence who would exacerbate this discomfort in him.
And he was sure that he was not the only one in this case, the second lieutenant, the captain… everyone must have felt the same thing watching the boy emerge from the flames that contorted around his half-naked body, his clothes gradually melting.
They felt the sensation of being outclassed.
Nabil took a step back when the young boy firmly stood on his two feet, his mind working rapidly. The situation had drastically changed, from a simple verbal rebellion to an unpredictable element that could become an imminent danger. A child who had reached such a stage in the mastery of sembou could only be bad news for them, especially after the blow Nabil had given him.
The young officer secretly gritted his teeth, annoyed. For almost a year now, Nabil had spent his days in a dull cycle of training, meditation, and writing or sending weekly reports after a patrol. As an ndimbelane, he had to manage security and ensure that all acts of criminality were prevented, so, day or night, they roamed in groups of 5 in the streets of their assigned sector under the direction of Second Lieutenant Ndao… Or at least, that's what they wrote in their reports. The truth is that they spent most of their time in the barracks, drinking a cup of tea and laughing. No one really took patrols seriously anymore; large-scale terrorism cases were more under the jurisdiction of the Paddaans, which left them with only minor banditry cases on their hands.
And in this population where 99% are normal human beings, who would dare to defy them? They were diambars, chosen ones of sembou; for them, they were the equivalent of overpowered gods. They could come across criminals mastering sembou, but that was already extremely rare, and moreover, these were mostly clandestine chosen ones, people who had fled national recruitment and therefore had not learned to fully master sembou.
Nabil praised himself on having ended up with the ndimbelanes. When it was time for his group's patrols, he strolled here and there with his teammates, looking down on everyone they met with disdain, sometimes even threatening them, even though he knew that with his oath, he was not allowed to gratuitously lay a hand on them. He flirted with all the young girls he desired, whether in a relationship or not, adult or teenager, even allowing himself to insist heavily; after all, who could stop him?
The feeling of power was like a sweet intoxicating nectar and the young man drank from it with vengeful fury. In his head, he remembered the empty gaze his father gave him, and, above all, the words a half-mad man with glasses had uttered to him as a prediction. On the tinted glass, blue reflections danced in an unsettling hypnosis, probing deep into his soul, and the man's openly mocking smile had remained etched in his mind.
"Those who love to win without honor will not escape it. Victory will come to punish them, to punish them as the deceptions of a warriors they are. It would be simpler to accept reality… I know it's hopeless but let me explain it to you more directly: you are a loser, and a loser you will remain because twice you will be punished for believing otherwise."
I am not a loser…
Nabil repeated this phrase every time these unpleasant memories resurfaced, a difficult task because even the spirit deep inside him kept repeating the same thing every time he had the opportunity during meditation.
"My story, this power that binds you and me, this very essence is rooted in defeat, and without it, this light would have been meaningless."
Disillusioned, Nabil looked at the form of his spirit, so pitiful in his eyes; a small chameleon, surrounded by a neon white light, the only consistency in a blurry and cloudy environment. This was his téén, the essence of his sembou power. And he felt completely incompatible with it because it harbored a truth he firmly rejected. This was undoubtedly the reason why he was still stuck in phase 2 of the diambar, unable to go beyond.
There are 6 phases of the diambar, increasing depending on the mastery an elected official has of his power, even if several much subtle conditions could come into play and prevent the léér, the transition from one phase to another. In Nabil's case, he was sure, it was because of the rejection he exercised against this loser's philosophy.
The young officer tried to use his two runes as little as possible, and focused on acquiring techniques without deviating from the essence of his téén, such as warabarabow, a technique unfortunately too complex, because light may have spatial and temporal properties, but they remain secondary, and therefore require a much too high understanding of sembou for Nabil; however, he clung to this elite technique, as if to prove his superiority.
Nabil had done all this, only to feel his determination waver during the revolt that shook the entire country due to more or less dubious political incidents, more violently in Keur Massar. Feeling the rage and anger, the overflow of violence from the masses, then the constraint of the seal linking him to the oath of the old order preventing him from punishing all these senseless people… had left him in a state of intense frustration. How dared they rebel? Did they know who they were facing?
So, yes, he took more pleasure than expected in using warabarabow in that crowd during the ceremony, and, yes, he savored every blow he inflicted on the back of that disheveled kid. Deep down, wasn't he doing them a favor? The weak should know their place, he simply strove to teach them that lesson, even if it meant stooping to their level. To these ungrateful bands.
So, once again, why did he have to be placed in this situation? Why did he feel like he was being judged by this kid? How dared he look him in the eye, look down on him with that condescending gaze? What did he know about life, him, about who he was and what he had experienced, this little privileged child of destiny? How dared he…?
A myriad of increasingly unreasonable questions swirled in his enraged mind. Logical sense was lost in frustration, anger, and a part of shame that he vomited.
He wanted to destroy that condemnatory gaze.
The child got up, the flames disappearing to leave a half-naked body covered with slight burns. Shreds of blackened fabric swirled around him, but he didn't seem to care, much less about his condition. He continued to stare at Nabil for a long time before his voice was heard as a whisper.
"I demand the Rag."
Nabil wondered if he had misheard. The boy's voice must have carried quite far because whether in the crowd or at the head table, he saw only shocked or confused looks. Second Lieutenant Ndao was no exception to the rule. He turned to his right to give the officer a look that was both lost and alarmed.
"What did you say?"
"I said," the child replied, the shadow of a smile – the only trace of emotion he displayed on his face –
"that I invoke the Rag."
The second lieutenant let his gaze wander around, stunned, as if silently asking if everyone had heard what the boy had said. Seeing that no one answered him, he threw his head back and burst out laughing.
Slowly, but surely, a few discreet and uncomfortable chuckles followed him from the recruits as he literally roared with laughter.
"The… Rag?" the second lieutenant exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eyes. "What is this nonsense? Do you hear him, the little man want a rag!"
From the tarpaulins, the laughter became much more pronounced among the new recruits, mainly among the ndimbelanes. Nabil glanced sideways at the child, he was not at all destabilized.
"Little one," the laughting second lieutenant said, "do you know what the Rag is?"
"It seems to me that it is a duel between two diambars." the child replied in an even tone, "A fight to repair someone's honor."
"Nice definition." the second lieutenant appreciated, ostentatiously advancing towards the boy. "So, have you understood the flaw in what you just asked?"
The child did not answer, which made the second lieutenant's smile widen.
"You are not a diambar." he explained slowly as if speaking to a particularly obtuse individual, circling around him. "None of our soldiers would stoop to fight a clandestine chosen one, much less if it is only a child."
The young boy chuckled in response.
"You're joking?" he replied in a cold voice, " "None of our soldiers would stoop to fighting a clandestine elected official, much less if it is only a child."? I think this man was not aware."
The child pointed at Nabil.
"He attacked me first, with sembou, thus I have the right to ask for a dual. But I don't count on justice, the child continued, I count on your honor, if you have any…"
"Keep your insolence to yourself, little one." the second lieutenant snapped, you deserve no honor. "Whatever your age, there is still a chance that you have hidden your sembou. A clandestine elected official is not far from a criminal."
"So will you flee the challenge thrown by a simple criminal kid?" the child asked. "Is that all the so-called protectors of peace are worth? You happily whip those weaker than you, but you don't want to fight when the honor of all ndimbelanes is at stake?"
A deafening silence followed his words. The second lieutenant slowly opened his mouth before closing it again, at a loss for words. The kid had hit a really sensitive spot, he had publicly insulted all the ndimbelanes. Whatever their response, it would leave an impact on public opinion, especially after the "punishment" they had just inflicted. It was a delicate situation to tell the truth, but Nabil knew that the second lieutenant would simply order the arrest of the kid, without any further trial, even if it meant using all the ndimbelane personnel at his disposal. The captain would probably do the same, with more or less diplomacy. And that was the right thing to do, Nabil did not disagree…
But…
But…
The look this barely adolescent child gave him… That look that seemed to judge him mockingly, to defy him with hauteur… Annoyed Nabil in a way he would not have thought possible.
He had done everything… never to feel inferior to anyone, and all this time he had managed to send this stupid fate to hell; so why did he still have to accept such a lack of respect from a child who could barely stand?
It was something he could not accept.
Nabil took a step forward.
"I accept the Rag."
His declaration was like a bomb. The inhabitants of Keur Massar who were attending the ceremony, stuck behind the barrier, exploded with indignant cries and he could feel the captains at the head table stirring. Beside him, Second Lieutenant Ndao violently grabbed his shoulder.
"What are you doing, soldier? Wait for my orders before acting!"
Behind the reprimand, Nabil could feel a slight hint of worry in Ndao's voice. More than a superior, he was a friend; he was the one who had welcomed him into his squadron after his assignment. He remembered so many memories and moments spent together during that year… And for that reason, he didn't look at him, fixing all his attention on the child in front of him.
"Sorry, lieutenant, but it is my honor as well as that of the ndimbelanes that has been tarnished. I cannot leave it unpunished."
"Officer Nabil, I order you to…"
"ENOUGH!"
A scream resonated towards the head table before a disturbance was felt. Nabil's stomach seemed to move heavily upwards before swirling as space moved violently around him. For a second, reality was just a blurry and confused mix in his eyes. Then, on the verge of nausea, everything stopped. Panting, bent over to prevent himself from vomiting, the officer searched with his left hand for the second lieutenant in search of support to stand up. But his hands fumbled in the void.
What…
Nabil turned to look for him but he was not there. He had disappeared from his field of vision and when the officer looked around him, he saw him almost collapsed on the ground next to the other child who had been punished in front of the head table. And the head table seemed… at least twice as far from him as usual. Then his eyes opened when he realized what was happening.
It was not an impression… The space that separated him from the head table, or more precisely all the space of the wasteland had seen its surface size multiply. Nabil narrowed his eyes, concentrating on his last ones because the sensation of sembou he felt in the barrier was no longer the same. He saw nothing, not even its structure, which disconcerted him.
The barrier that Second Lieutenant Ndao had placed was of basic level with a more advanced and complex structure to offer protection, or more precisely to prevent the intrusion of a third party during the punishment. But Nabil could see the structure and the fluctuations of the sembou that held it with a little concentration, which was apparently no longer the case. So he could not be mistaken…
An advanced level protection barrier accompanied by spatial amplification. In addition to a teleportation technique on the second lieutenant and the kid. Who could have…
Nabil looked around to see who was behind such a feat, and who could have spent such a quantity of sembou. Then, surrounded by shadow, a slender silhouette emerged in the middle of the field. Under a cascade of swirling locks, her face emerged from the darkness before her body superimposed itself on reality. Her black eyes, slightly highlighted by a faint trace of dark eyeliner, seemed to contain even deeper shadows that the sunlight could not reach. The golden emblem on her gray top was the only thing that seemed to emit a glow around her.
It's the Paddaan…
The young girl did not seem at all shaken by her performance, her neutral gaze barely resting on Nabil before turning to the boy, a slight smile on her lips.
"The Rag has been pronounced, she announced in a faint but perfectly audible voice, and has been accepted by both sides. I would like to remind you that no one" – she particularly emphasized the word, glancing at the captains – "can go against this duel once it has begun. You are now bound by a ritual that will only dissipate at the end of your fight, whether by defeat or death."
The Paddaan sighed deeply before once again invoking a curtain of shadow that covered her. Before disappearing, she said in a slightly annoyed tone.
"You'd better entertain me a little, I hate making efforts for nothing."
And just like that, the shadow gathered around her and she got reduced to nothingness. A glance was enough to verify that she had reappeared in her chair in front of the head table, arms crossed.
A slight silence settled in the area. Nabil heard the crowd muttering uncertainly. It seemed that even they didn't know how to react to the events.
"… Interesting… We are just a way of entertainment."
The boy had a slightly mocking tone, his gaze wandering towards the young girl before returning to Nabil. At the sight of his closed and fierce expression, his smile widened slightly, and his eyes seemed to light up.
"There's no point in talking, right?" he mocked. "Let's get started already."