Omar stood in a pitch-black void. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above him, just an endless, suffocating darkness.
"Where am I?
What is this place...
Am I actually alive or dead?"
Omar whispered into the emptiness, but his voice didn't even leave an echo.
His mind was a storm of terrifying confusion.
The last thing he remembered was the ruined village, the agonizing pain, and that wretched demon, Huba Huba, brutally tearing his eyes out of his skull.
"But... I can feel my eyes.
How is this possible?"
he murmured, a wave of sheer disbelief washing over him.
He blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The feeling of his eyelids moving against his eyeballs was undeniable.
With trembling hands, he touched his face; his eyes were perfectly intact.
How could this be?
Who had saved him from the Devil Head?
Then, a faint memory echoed in his mind—a cold, steady voice whispering in the dark before he had passed out:
*"Forgive me, child..."*
Omar realized that after he lost consciousness, something completely beyond his understanding had happened to him.
But why was he trapped in this dark dimension?
Whose eyes were these?
Suddenly, a bright spotlight pierced the absolute darkness, lighting up a small patch of space right in front of him.
Inside that circle of light sat a twelve-year-old boy, dressed in torn, ragged clothes, leaning weakly against a stone wall.
In the blink of an eye, the pitch-black void violently shattered.
The darkness was instantly replaced by blinding sunlight. Omar flinched.
The dead silence was replaced by the chaotic noise of a bustling, ancient Arabic bazaar.
Merchants were shouting, horses were neighing, and crowds of people were walking right past him.
"Hey! Can anyone hear me?!"Omar yelled, waving his hands frantically."Excuse me! ,Where am I?!"
A merchant carrying a heavy sack of spices walked directly toward him.
Omar braced for the collision, but the man walked straight *through* Omar's body as if he were made of smoke.
Omar gasped in shock, staring at his own hands.
He was a phantom.
A mere spectator.
He was trapped inside a memory—a memory stored within the very eyes he now possessed.
His phantom gaze fell upon the twelve-year-old boy leaning against the wall.
The boy's face was covered in dirt, and his ribs were clearly visible through his torn clothes.
"Who is this boy?"
Omar whispered to himself, looking around the unfamiliar, crowded streets in utter confusion.
"And what city have I come to?"
Walking alongside a group of heavily armed guards and slaves, a sixty-year-old, morbidly obese, and incredibly wealthy merchant stopped in front of the starving boy.
His name was Zubair Al-Zalim. He looked down at the child with absolute disgust.
Whenever he smiled with his arrogant smirk, his missing front teeth—replaced by shiny gold ones—were clearly visible.
"Oh, look at this street rat,"
Zubair mocked, his fat belly shaking as he laughed.
"Are you hungry, boy?"
The starving boy looked up with tears in his innocent eyes.
"Yes, Uncle. I am very hungry.
I haven't eaten a single bite in four days...
My Abu and Ammi were brutally murdered by bandits on the trade route.
Please... I beg you,
Give me a piece of bread."
Zubair scoffed, flashing his golden grin.
"Get out of my sight!
How dare you ask me that,
Weak bugs like you have no right to live in this world.
You are nothing but a burden to everyone.
Why didn't you just die with your Ammi and Abu?
At least it would have saved you this pain."
From his velvet pouch, Zubair pulled out a fresh piece of Khubz (traditional flatbread).
But instead of handing it to the boy, Zubair threw it directly into the filthy mud near his boots.
"Listen closely, rat,"
Zubair said with a cruel smirk.
"If you eat that bread right out of the dirt,
I will give you a hundred gold coins.
Understand?
And if you can't do it... then I'll make you my slave.
I'll tie you up with my dogs and make you clean my feet every single day!
Hahahaha!"
The young boy had been starving for days. His stomach was growling with agonizing pain.
Driven by pure, terrifying desperation, the boy crawled forward and silently ate the mud-covered bread, chewing through his tears.
When he finished, the boy looked up with a trembling voice.
"Uncle... you promised.
If I ate the bread, you would give me a hundred gold coins..."
Zubair's face twisted in sudden anger.
"What gold coins, you beggar?!"
He laughed like a demon.
"I said, I would give you a hundred strikes little punk!
Guards!
Give him his reward!"
Zubair's massive guards immediately stepped forward and began mercilessly kicking and beating the innocent twelve-year-old boy.
The child screamed and cried in agony.
"Leave him alone, you scum!"
Omar screamed at the top of his lungs, his heart shattering at the sight.
"Let him go!
He's starving to death!"
Driven by pure rage and desperation, Omar rushed forward and threw a furious punch directly at Zubair's face.
But his fist passed seamlessly right through the fat merchant's head.
Omar gasped in shock.
Frantic, he threw wild kicks and heavy punches at the guards beating the boy, but every single strike phased right through their bodies!
He couldn't touch them.
He was just a powerless phantom, forced to quietly witness this absolute cruelty.
The large crowd that had gathered merely watched in terrified silence.
No one dared to step forward to save the boy.
They whispered fearfully amongst themselves.
"What a heartless monster...
he has no mercy for a child,"
a woman murmured, covering her mouth.
"Are you crazy?
Don't even look at him,"
a man warned his friend who was trying to step forward.
"That is Zubair!
The most arrogant and cruelest merchant in this entire city!
He takes absolute pleasure in inflicting pain.
He has crushed countless helpless people under his heavy debts,forcefully taking their homes and properties!
He is such a devil that if a poor man fails to repay him, he even abducts their women by force!
His reach extends straight to the Royal Court, so think before you act.
Once, a servant accidentally put salt instead of sugar in his drink—Zubair didn't just cut off the poor man's tongue,
He poured raw salt over the bleeding wound and forced the servant to eat it until he died in agonizing pain!"
Suddenly, Zubair stepped forward with an evil laugh and stopped his guards.
"Stop!"
Zubair ordered, pulling a heavy leather whip from his waist.
"Now I will give him his reward with my own hands!"
As Zubair raised the whip high into the air to strike the agonizing boy...
"LEAVE HIM ALONE, BASTARD!!" Omar shrieked.
"LET HIM GO!!"
To be continue