Chapter 1 - The Genesis of Arthur
The air that fills your lungs is thick and warm, laced with the scent of red dust and the invisible thrum of wild life. You arrived two days ago aboard a cargo ship, then traveled the remainder of the way in a creaking wooden cart, leaving behind the last vestiges of civilization. Now, you stand here. Before you stretches the golden savanna, an ocean of tall grass dotted with lonely acacia trees. In the distance, piercing the deep blue sky, looms a slumbering colossus—the mighty Mount Kilimanjaro. Its snow-capped crown gleams like a divine beacon, both majestic and unreachable.
A man stands a few meters away, his back turned to you. He is tall, his dark skin pulled tight over powerful muscles, clad only in coarse, worn trousers. His hair is cropped short, streaked with gray at the temples. He hasn't turned to acknowledge you. He simply stares at the mountain.
This is Jabari, your master—a man whose reputation in the Sanctuary is legend. They say he forges Saints as unyielding as diamond.
The silence is broken only by the drone of insects and the distant whisper of wind in the grass. The midday sun is merciless. Sweat has already begun to trail down your forehead. Finally, Jabari speaks. His voice is deep and slow, like boulders rolling down a mountain. He doesn't turn to face you.
"You're small. The Sanctuary sends me a cub and asks me to raise a lion."
There's no mockery in his words—just a plain statement of fact.
"This land doesn't care about your dreams or your name. It speaks only one language: strength. Strength to endure. Strength to overcome. Strength to survive."
He turns slowly. His eyes, deep and dark, lock onto yours. There is no warmth in them—only the calm intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.
"Your training doesn't begin with fists or Cosmo. It begins with survival. The sun will be your first opponent. Thirst, your second. Fear, your third. Show me you have the will to exist in this place. The rest will come later."
Without another word, he sits cross-legged beneath the shade of a lone acacia. He closes his eyes and seems to melt into the landscape—like a rock that has always been there.
He says no more. He doesn't look at you again.
The challenge has been given.
The sun continues its slow, relentless burn overhead, and the vastness of the savanna stretches in every direction—beautiful, deadly, and alive.