Backstage, Dayo leaned against the wall, listening as Miguel Alvarez's voice carried through the speakers. The boy's nerves had been obvious at first, but once he opened up, the song became something else. It was raw, trembling with emotion. Miguel wasn't technically flawless; in fact, his breathing slipped in a few places, his pitch wavered more, which screams amateur, but none of that seemed to matter. The emotion in his voice hit the arena like a wave.

Dayo rubbed his palms together, his chest tight. Damn… he really poured everything into that.

Around him, other contestants whispered. Some nodded in respect, others exchanged uneasy looks. Nobody had expected much from a raffle contestant—but Miguel had just set a bar with heart alone.

When the applause finally died down, the voice of the MC came from the stage.

"Next up… Contestant Twenty-Seven—Dayo!"

The area tilted for a second. His name was called through the dome, and the spotlight was waiting for him. Dayo drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped out.

The crowd roared instantly. A chant started from the upper seats as a few knew him; he waved at them, making their cheer louder.

He walked calmly to the center stage, mic in hand. Before anything else, he turned slightly toward one section of the crowd and bowed lightly.

"皆さん,こんにちは! (Hello, everyone!)

The Japanese words came out of his tongue, and the crowd erupted even louder. Fans waved flags, screaming at the unexpected greeting.

The host chuckled, amused. "Ah… Japanese? I thought you were an American-born Nigerian?"

Dayo smiled, giving a small shrug. " Yes, I am, but I figured a greeting for the fans wouldn't hurt."

The Japanese audience clapped harder, impressed at the gesture of someone greeting them in their language, as none of the artists had done.

One of the judges, Amara Bello, leaned forward. "How are you feeling right now, Dayo?"

He didn't sugarcoat it. "Honestly? Nervous. Miguel just performed with full heart. It was amazing. Standing here after him… it feels like I have to give twice as much."

Miguel, still backstage, lifted his head slightly, touched by the words.

Lucien Duval raised his brow. "And do you believe you can?"

Dayo exhaled once, steadying his nerves. "Yes. I believe I can."

"And so, what song are you singing for us?" Another judge asked.

Dayo smiled and said, " I am singing one of the judges' songs."

Marcus Cole smiled, "Oh, which judge and what song?"

Dayo smirked and replied, "That would ruin the surprise."

Emile smiled, "Haha, I like you already."

The host gave a nod. "Alright, Dayo. The stage is yours, all the best."

The lights dimmed. A hush fell across the arena.

Dayo closed his eyes, gripping the mic tight. This is it. No turning back on everything he had worked for.

The first chords began—soft piano, like footsteps in the dark. Then Dayo's voice entered, steady, clear, carrying across the silent dome:

🎵

"We're all climbing mountains,

Stumbling, breaking, still we rise.

Told the world we're not enough,

But look—here we stand, alive.

Every shadow tried to bind me,

Every whisper said I'd fall.

But I found my fire burning,

Now I'll sing above it all."

🎵

The arena stayed quiet, the crowd holding its breath. His voice filled every corner, weaving emotion with control. The verses rose, leading to the chorus where his tone cut sharper, soaring higher:

🎵

*"We are stronger than they know,

Every dream will overflow.

Even storms can't steal the flame,

We are more than just a name.

Weakness isn't what defines,

Every loss still builds the climb.

Hear me now, I won't let go,

This is where my spirit shows."*

🎵

The song swelled—layers of harmonies looping behind his live voice, drums kicking in, the sound shaking the dome. Fans leaned forward, eyes wide.

Then came the twist.

The music shifted, blending seamlessly into a familiar melody. One of the judges straightened immediately—Marcus Cole. It was the instrumental of one of his own classic R&B hits, remixed with a sharper tempo, layered harmonies, and a trap-inspired beat.

Dayo smirked slightly as the crowd gasped, then dove straight in:

🎵

*"You said the night was too heavy,

That the stars wouldn't guide me home.

But I flipped the script on destiny,

Now I'll write the lines myself.

Hear my heart—it's louder,

Hear my soul—it's clear.

Even your silence couldn't stop me,

I'm still standing here."*

🎵

Marcus sat back, blinking. Slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.

Dayo pushed harder, his voice ripping through the climax:

🎵

*"So thank you for the pain,

It carved the fire in my veins.

Every scar a story told,

Every note will now unfold.

This is not the end,

This is where I begin.

Even if the lights go dark,

My voice will never dim."*

🎵

The music dropped into silence. Dayo stood, chest heaving, the final note still hanging in the air.

For a whole five seconds, there was nothing. Just silence.

Then the arena exploded. The sound was deafening—cheers, screams, applause crashing like thunder. Fans leapt to their feet, chanting his name, waving banners.

On the judges' panel, Marcus Cole shook his head slowly, laughing in disbelief. He leaned toward his mic.

"Dayo… when you said you were going to sing one of the judges' songs, I never expected it to be my song."

The crowd screamed even louder. Dayo gave a small nod, smiling humbly. "Yeah. I wanted to honor it—with a twist, as it aligned with the message that I am trying to pass."

Marcus's voice softened, though his words carried weight. "People have tried to cover that song for years. Most fail. But you didn't just cover, you made it sound like an entire new song. You made it yours. And honestly? I've never been prouder to hear my own words come back to me like that."

Amara Bello clapped, grinning. "That was amazing what you just did. You honored the past and showed the future in one performance."

Carolina Vega chipped in, "Your control, your vision, your emotional balance—it was all there. And the remix? One word, Genius."

Even Lucien Duval, the toughest critic, gave a small nod. "Impressive. You balanced emotion with precision. That's rare, but I feel there's a need to improve, but all in all, wonderful performances."

The applause only grew louder, echoing off the dome's walls.

Dayo bowed his head once, smiling faintly. Inside, his chest was pounding. He had done it. He had stepped onto the world stage and proved himself.

Now it was time to see if he had conquered the judges and won.

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