Omar was still watching the trio when the bazaar scene around him began to blur.
A thick white smoke spread across the environment, fading the world away just like a breaking dream.
"What is happening?
Where am I now?
Again?"
Omar asked in bewilderment.
When the white smoke cleared, the scorching sun and the chaotic noise were gone.
Omar was now in a completely different place. It was a quiet, desolate section of the city.
Ghazwan, Aslam, and Maazin stood in front of a broken, ruined mud-brick house.
The structure was in terrible condition; more than half the roof had caved in, the plaster on the walls was peeling off in large chunks, and a torn, sun-faded desert mat hung over the crumbled boundary wall.
Ghazwan placed both hands on his hips. With a proud smile, he looked at the ruin and declared,
"So, from today onwards, this is our new home!
We will all live here. We will repair this broken house with our own hands and turn it into a grand palace!"
Maazin jumped with joy.
"Yes, Abu! We will decorate this house together!"
Aslam was still staring at the ruined house, but there was a new spark of hope in his innocent eyes.
He gently held Ghazwan's massive hand and asked softly,
"Abu... will we... will we always stay together like this?
You will never leave me, right?"
Maazin patted Aslam's shoulder from behind, his voice growing a little heavy.
"What kind of crazy talk is that!
Why would Abu ever leave us?
Ever since my Ammi left me,
Abu has given me the love of both a mother and a father at the same time."
Saying this, Maazin quickly wiped away the tears that had suddenly welled up in his eyes.
Ghazwan dropped to one knee and gently stroked both Maazin and Aslam's heads with his large hands.
A father's pride and unconditional love reflected clearly in his golden eyes.
"Oh, my sweet little children,
I will never leave you,"
Ghazwan said with a warm smile.
"I will always stay right here with you.
No power in this world can separate me from you.
And no power in this world will ever reach you, as long as I am alive.
Understand?"
Both boys laughed happily. The ruined house was now filled with the sound of their joy.
Standing there, Omar was crying, but deep down, his heart was swelling with peace.
Seeing how a father was protecting his children, giving them a sanctuary and the love of both parents, healed a part of Omar's own fractured soul.
Suddenly, the white smoke rose again, and in the very next moment, the scene violently shifted.
Time had moved forward rapidly.
Omar opened his phantom eyes and saw that he was now standing in an open training courtyard.
The heat of the sun was much stronger than before.
Omar looked around in absolute awe.
The place that was once a ruin had completely transformed!
The peeling plaster of the house was now flawless, smooth, and sand-colored.
The broken doors had been replaced by highly polished wood, and a rich crimson silk awning blocked the harsh sun.
The ground had been pounded into a solid, rammed-earth training area, lined with fine weapon racks and brand-new wooden targeting dummies.
Ghazwan stood there like a mountain, his massive arms folded, watching closely.
Aslam and Maazin were now fourteen years old.
The innocence on their faces had faded slightly, replaced by the sharp, focused look of young warriors.
Both held wooden swords in their hands.
"Aaaaaah!"
Maazin roared loudly, dashing toward Aslam at full speed.
He moved fast enough to cut through the wind.
Aslam dodged backward, shouting,
"Hey, stop, you crazy fool!
I still don't know how to swing this sword properly!
What am I supposed to do?!"
Maazin laughed and mocked him,
"That's your excuse every single day!
You're always making excuses, you drama king !
Take this, Aslam!
You're done!"
Maazin leaped into the air, raining a barrage of strikes down on Aslam with his wooden sword.
Aslam barely managed to block the hits using his natural reflexes.
He was performing highly acrobatic movements, but he wasn't in attack mode; he was purely on the defensive.
Maazin was relentlessly using non-stop barrage combos, pushing Aslam back.
Suddenly, Maazin increased his speed. Aslam thought Maazin was going to dash in and hit him from the right side, so Aslam shifted his weight to block on the right.
But Maazin instantly sidestepped, stopped his momentum, executed a full 360-degree spin to the opposite side, and jumped into the air for a devastating spinning sword attack!
CRACK!
Aslam quickly raised his sword, but Maazin's attack was so heavy that Aslam's wooden blade snapped right down the middle, and the tip of Maazin's sword smacked directly into Aslam's head!
"Aaaah! My head!" Aslam stumbled backward, grabbing his skull.
He glared at Maazin in absolute fury.
"Are you blind?!
You hit me right on the head, you bastard!
I'm not going to spare you!
Where are you running, stop right there!"
Maazin ran backward, laughing out loud.
"Both of you, stop!" Ghazwan's deep, thundering voice echoed across the courtyard.
Ghazwan walked over to them.
"What is all this racket?
You two aren't little kids anymore; you've grown up.
Is this a warrior's training or a street brawl?"
Resting his wooden sword on his shoulder, Maazin said proudly,
"Abu, I defeated Aslam, and now he's calling me a cheater!"
Aslam puffed his cheeks and complained like a child,
"Abu!
He cheated!
He used a dirty trick to attack me from above!
Doesn't that count as cheating?!"
Ghazwan burst into deep laughter.
"Oh, you two..."
He stepped forward and affectionately patted both of their heads.
"Listen closely, Aslam," Ghazwan began to explain seriously.
"What Maazin did is not called cheating.
It is called a 'Strategic Feint'.
It's a technique used to deceive the enemy's mind.
When an enemy tries to read your moves before you attack, you stay one step ahead, trick their mind, and launch a counter-attack from a blind spot."
Maazin stuck his tongue out at Aslam.
"See, I told you!
It's not cheating, it's a technique!"
But suddenly, Ghazwan grabbed Maazin tightly by the ear and pulled him up.
"AAA! OUCH!
Abu, let go!
That hurts!
Ouuuch!"
Maazin yelped, jumping on his toes.
"And you listen to me," Ghazwan said, his tone turning strict.
"The attack you just used could have caused Aslam a very real, serious injury!
Never use lethal force on your own brother during training again.
Do you understand?"
Ghazwan let go of Maazin's ear and turned to Aslam.
His sharp eyes analyzed Aslam's broken sword on the dirt.
"And Aslam, I have been observing you for the past hour," Ghazwan said.
"Your body balance is absolutely perfect, but you just can't seem to synchronize with the sword.
Why does holding a sword feel so strange to you?"
Aslam threw the broken hilt into the dirt and spoke with pure frustration.
"Abu, I don't know why... but the edge and the weight of this sword just feel incredibly awkward in my hands.
When I hold it,
I don't feel like I'm controlling it; it feels like it's tying me down!
When I swing a sword, instead of moving freely, my hands feel tangled.
I just cannot wield this weapon."
Ghazwan looked closely at Aslam's broad shoulders and muscular arms.
"Alright.
It seems the sword is simply not your weapon.
I will find you another weapon, one that you can wield naturally, one that gives you a continuous, unbroken flow."
Chapter End