The silence after the mother's plea echoed longer than thunder. Mirshad didn't say a word. He simply turned. Walked inside. A hoodie. Pants. No sword yet. Just fire in his eyes. He picked up the car keys like they weighed a thousand lives. The mother followed. He turned to her with calm intensity. "You're coming with me. We'll bring your daughter home." The family didn't stop him. They didn't need to. The look in his eyes said everything. He got in the car. She entered quietly. As the car left the palace gates, silence followed in its trail — the kind of silence that came before judgment.
As they drove through the winding streets of their hometown, the mother gave directions. Not much was said — her voice trembled too often. She pointed to a place outside the main town. "That's the street," she whispered. "The one the police won't enter. The one the world pretends doesn't exist." Mirshad's hands gripped the wheel tighter. Unseen, behind him — four bikes followed. His friends. They had seen his car tear past them while they were headed to his home. They knew something wasn't right. So, they turned around and followed. Not to stop him. Just to stand with him — like always.
Mirshad pulled up in front of the infamous street. A few police vehicles were parked nearby… Not to help. Just drinking tea from the roadside shop. He wore a surgical mask. Hoodie up. He told the mother to stay inside the car. Then he stepped out. "Is this the street?" One cop looked him over and scoffed. "Why? Want to die early today?" Another laughed. "You giving us a human sacrifice, boy?" Mirshad's voice was ice. "No. I'm sending some souls to hell." They laughed again. One even mocked, "Give us your home number. We'll tell your family you died brave." Mirshad didn't reply. He walked. Behind him, his friends had stopped their bikes at a distance. They ordered tea and sat near the police. Not to interfere. To witness. They knew what was about to happen.
The moment Mirshad stepped inside the boundary, the rusted gates slammed shut. The devils had welcomed him. Hundreds of them — armed, laughing. One of the leaders stepped forward. "What do we have here? A lost lamb?" "No sword. No backup. No way out." Another barked, "Tell us, how you want to die, kid? We'll make it poetic." Mirshad scanned them. "Is this all of you?" "If not, gather the rest. I don't have time." Laughter exploded. "We like your guts. Let's see how long they last on the floor." Mirshad's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure any of you can stop me?" "I promise… not a single one of you walks out alive." The man smirked. "Mother promise, you're dead already."
Outside, Mirshad's friends sipped tea quietly. The police were still mocking. Until — a glowing sword tore through the sky. It flew overhead — slicing the air — and crossed the gate. The moment it entered the street… the entire ground shook. One of his friends stood. "Game on." "Now let's see if demons can survive inside their own hell." The tea shop fell silent. The cops looked around nervously. "Wait… who is that guy?" His friend smiled. "You fools just mocked MRD." "The god you were drinking tea about… just walked into hell." Panic. Regret. Whispers. Inside the gate — it was already too late.
As the sword arrived in Mirshad's palm, the gang took one step back. Then — he removed his mask. Eyes widened. Panic hit. "That's… that's him…" "Run. RUN!" They tried. But how do you run from a god? He moved faster than sound. The first slash — clean. The second — devastating. One by one, they fell. No head was spared. No scream went unanswered. Those who begged were given silence. Those who ran — were caught. In 20 minutes… silence. Only one man stumbled toward the gate. His hand banged it. "PLEASE! LET ME OUT!" Outside, the friends didn't move. Behind that man — a shadow walked. Mirshad. He didn't speak. He simply raised his sword — and drove it through the man's mouth. Outside, everyone went pale. "What… what did we just witness?" "The god of the street has spoken."
And from the darkness, Mirshad walked out. Holding a child's hand. Behind him — more children. The stolen. The broken. Now saved. The mother burst into tears. The crowd watched in silence. The god had entered hell. And came out untouched. Only gods walk through fire… and make it kneel.