In the heavy silence of the bazaar, the only sounds were Zubair's pathetic whimpers and agonizing groans.
Upon his fat, blood-stained forehead, the word "حمار" (Corrupt Jackass) was now carved forever.
The crowd finally began to react, their fear giving way to delayed outrage.
"This is exactly what he deserves!" a man shouted from the back.
"He tried to beat an innocent starving child to death!,
He deserves no mercy!"
a woman screamed in agreement. "Kill him! Stone the bastard!"
Now that Ghazwan had broken Zubair's aura of fear, the crowd finally found the courage to speak
The enraged crowd suddenly surged forward, picking up rocks and throwing them at the bleeding merchant.
Ghazwan immediately raised his hand, his authoritative presence halting the mob in their tracks.
"Stop.
He has received his punishment.
There is no need for any of you to dirty your own hands."
His voice carried a weight that demanded absolute obedience, and the crowd instantly fell silent, dropping their stones.
Leaving Zubair writhing in the dirt, Ghazwan knelt beside the twelve-year-old boy in ragged, dirt-stained clothes.
The towering warlord's face held no anger now; instead, it softened with a gentleness that completely contrasted his lethal presence.
He reached out with a broad, strong hand and gently wiped the boy's tears.
"What is your name, son?" Ghazwan asked with deep warmth.
The child was still trembling from the terror.
He stammered, his voice breaking,
"A-Aaa... Aslam."
A warm, comforting smile spread across Ghazwan's lips.
"That is a very beautiful name, boy."
He gently ruffled Aslam's dirt-caked hair.
"But why are you begging on these streets?
,Where are your ammi and abu?"
At the mention of his parents, a flood of tears welled up in Aslam's innocent eyes.
He broke down, his small chest heaving as he sobbed.
"My... my parents are no longer in this world,"
Aslam wept, his breaths hitching.
"We were traveling from Barqaan to Rimalpur...
But on a desolate stretch of the road, a group of bandits attacked our caravan.
They... they beat my mother and father so brutally and killed them.
They didn't show even a shred of mercy."
Aslam covered his face with his tiny, bruised hands as the horrific memories rushed back.
"After that, the bandits dragged me away.
They made me their slave at their camp.
They beat me every single day.
They forced me to eat their leftover scraps, shoving the dirty food down my throat even when I gagged and cried."
He wiped his eyes, a small glimmer of gratitude shining through his tears.
"But one day... when all the bandits were in a deep sleep, the woman who cooked for them mixed sleeping pills into their food.
When everyone passed out, she untied my ropes and told me,
*'Go, my child. Run far away from this hell.'*
After that ,I ran blindly into the dark like a madman...
I kept running until my legs completely gave out.
Eventually, wandering aimlessly,
I reached this city.
I was so hungry
I couldn't even walk anymore..."
Aslam broke into loud, heartbreaking sobs once again.
Ghazwan's golden eyes filled with a potent mix of deep sorrow and simmering anger.
Without wasting another second, he pulled the crying boy against his massive, armored chest.
It wasn't the embrace of a hardened warrior; it was the embrace of a father.
"Don't cry, my son,"
Ghazwan's deep voice resonated with a soothing, unshakable comfort.
""From today onward, I am your family.
I will be both the father and mother you lost.
You never have to shed another tear.
You are not alone anymore,
I am here to stand by you."
Watching as a powerless phantom, Omar's own spectral tears began to fall. He couldn't stop himself from weeping.
*"Why does it always have to be this way?"*
Omar whispered, his voice trembling with shared grief.
*"Why do our loved ones always leave us behind on an empty, desolate road?
Oh God, what was this innocent child's fault that you gave him such a devastating punishment?"*
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the other side of the crowd.
A small, sharp, and irritated voice pierced through the murmurs of the people.
"Move aside!
Get out of my way!
Let me through, I need to find my father!
Abu!
Where did you go?!"
A young boy, roughly Aslam's age, pushed his way out of the crowd, whining and scowling.
He wore clean, well-kept clothes and radiated a restless, chaotic energy.
Panting, he marched right up to Ghazwan and began complaining loudly.
"Abu! Where did you go, leaving me behind?!"
The boy put both hands on his hips and puffed out his cheeks.
"You always leave me alone just to go help other people!
You don't worry about me at all!"
The boy was none other than Maazin.
Omar gasped in sheer disbelief, staring at the twelve-year-old Maazin—the very same
Maazin whose fiery eyes were currently beating inside Omar's own skull!
Maazin, still pouting, looked at the crying boy standing next to Ghazwan.
"And... who is this crybaby you have with you?"
Ghazwan smiled faintly.
"Maazin, from today, this boy is your brother."
"W-WHAT?!"
Maazin's eyes widened in sheer shock.
"AAA!"
He yelled, grabbing his own head dramatically.
"Did you take another wife?!
When did this happen?!"
Ghazwan let out a long sigh, walked over to
Maazin, and lightly dropped his massive fist onto the boy's head in a comical *BONK*.
A small bump immediately formed on Maazin's head.
"OUCH!
Hey... why did you hit me so hard?!
AAA, my head split open!"
Maazin whined, aggressively rubbing his skull.
"You idiot, I haven't taken another wife,"
Ghazwan said, caught between annoyance and amusement.
He pointed at Aslam.
"This poor boy was begging here.
And that wretched man lying in the dirt over there was brutally beating him.
So, I saved this innocent child from that butcher."
Ghazwan's voice softened.
"His parents were killed by bandits during their journey.
He escaped and somehow found his way to this city.
From now on, he will live with us."
Hearing this, Maazin's anger and dramatic antics vanished in a split second.
Genuine empathy filled his eyes.
He rushed over to Aslam and flashed a big, warm smile.
"Hey! What's your name?"
Maazin asked cheerfully.
Aslam, still a bit intimidated, replied softly,
"My... my name is Aslam."
Maazin immediately grabbed Aslam's dirt-stained hand and shook it vigorously.
"And my name is Maazin!
It's so nice to meet you, my new brother Aslam!"
For the first time since his nightmare began, a small, relieved smile touched Aslam's bruised face.
Meanwhile, lying in the dirt a few feet away, Zubair burned in the fires of utter humiliation. Enduring the searing pain of his wounds, he ground his teeth together. His pride had been shattered, but his anger had now morphed into something entirely demonic.
*"For the first time in my life,
I have faced such absolute disgrace,"*
Zubair thought, spewing venom in his mind as his bloodshot eyes glared at Ghazwan's back.
*"I will have my revenge.
I will kill you! You bastard,
I will never forget what you did to me today.
You ground my hard-earned reputation into the dirt!
The people who used to tremble at my name are now standing here watching me like a spectacle.
You made a joke out of me...
You will pay such a horrifying price for this that your future generations will weep!
You will deeply regret crossing paths with a man like me!"*
Just as Zubair was plotting his bloody revenge, Ghazwan turned back around.
"Wait a moment, boys,"
Ghazwan said to Maazin and Aslam.
"There is still one piece of unfinished business."
His piercing gaze locked onto Zubair. He walked over to the defeated merchant, his shadow falling over the fat man's face.
"Hand over the pouch of gold coins you promised the boy."
Trembling, Zubair hurriedly pulled the heavy velvet pouch from his robes and handed it over.
"Take it... take it.
I've given you what you asked for."
Ghazwan pocketed the pouch calmly.
"There is one more thing, Zubair."
Zubair flinched, his eyes wide with terror.
"What else do you want?!
I gave you the bag!
I don't have any more gold coins on me!"
Ghazwan smirked, a dark, intimidating shadow crossing his face.
"You are wrong.
You still have plenty of gold on you."
Before Zubair could even process the words, Ghazwan ruthlessly forced his thick, iron-like fingers directly into the merchant's mouth.
"Wait!
What are you doing?!
Don't rip out my teeth—AAAAAAAGH!"
With a sickening CRUNCH, Ghazwan violently yanked out four of Zubair's solid gold front teeth.
Zubair shrieked in blinding, unimaginable agony, spitting thick blood and saliva into the dirt as he writhed helplessly on the ground.
Ghazwan casually wiped the bloody gold teeth on Zubair's torn robes, tossed them into the velvet pouch, and turned his back on the crying tyrant.
The absolute duality of the warlord—a ruthless monster to the wicked, and a gentle savior to the innocent—left the entire crowd completely stunned.
He walked back to Aslam and Maazin, offering them a warm, fatherly smile.
"Come on, boys,"
Ghazwan said gently.
"Let's go home."
Omar watched the three of them walk away into the sunlit streets of the bazaar.
A profound sense of peace washed over the phantom warrior.
But just as Omar took a step to follow them, the world around him suddenly began to blur.
Thick, suffocating white smoke began to rapidly swallow the marketplace, dissolving the stalls, the people, and the sunlight.
The warm memory was violently tearing apart, and a sudden, sharp ringing pierced Omar's ears.
The phantom realm was shifting, dragging him forcefully toward another point in time.
And as the white smoke cleared, what Omar saw next made his spectral blood run absolutely cold.
Chapter End