The next day, long before the
sun dared to pierce the horizon, Mazar-i-Sharif lay drowned in a heavy, suffocating silence. The streets were desolate, the air biting and sharp. Suddenly, the rhythmic strike of boots against the cold earth shattered the stillness.
Sudais was running.
His breathing was a steady, low hum, but inside, his body was a furnace. Suddenly, several stray dogs—mangy guardians of the night—erupted from an alley, their snarling barks echoing against the mud-brick walls as they gave chase.
Sudais cast a fleeting, indifferent glance over his shoulder.
"Tch... street nuisances."
He didn't just speed up; he ignited. His strides grew longer, more predatory. The distance between him and the beasts widened in heartbeats until the dogs skidded to a halt, whining in confusion as their prey vanished into the mist.
Sudais stopped, leaning his weight on his knees. Sweat rolled off his chin like liquid glass. He looked at the empty street, a small, calm breath escaping his lips.
"Early morning... truly the best choice for peace."
In the seclusion of his courtyard, the skipping rope became a blur of whistling wind.
888...
900...
The rhythm was a drumbeat of war. His muscles tightened, his skin flushed, and a faint, visible steam began to curl off his shoulders as his internal temperature skyrocketed. The rope moved so fast it became an invisible shield.
995... 998... 1000.
The rope hit the dust. Sudais doubled over, his lungs burning with a satisfying fire.
"Oof... that's intense."
He straightened his back, looking up at the now-brightening sky. The first rays of gold touched his face.
"I think that's enough for today... the shop will be late." He paused, a new light in his eyes. "Today is a better day."
At the Blacksmith Shop—
"Your order is ready," Sudais said, handing over the forged iron.
The customer tossed the coins. "Thanks."
"Much appreciated. Go with God," Sudais replied calmly.
The day was quiet, but the peace ended when his father, Dafid, walked in with a heavy expression.
"My son, how was today? Any sales?"
"Not bad, Father... some work got done."
Dafid nodded, then lowered his voice. "Your Uncle Yunus called. They're having a training session tomorrow. He said... if you wanted, I should bring you along."
Sudais didn't even blink. "Well... let's go."
Dafid stared at him, genuinely shocked. This was the son who used to avoid these gatherings like the plague. "Really?"
"Yes," Sudais said, adding in a voice so low it was almost a whisper: "Maybe this time, things will be different."
That Night—
As they walked back under the starlight, Sudais was silent, but his mind was a storm.
Everyone will be there...
The memories of past trainings flashed by—the laughter, the pitying looks, the way he always stood in the corner, a ghost among warriors.
He took a slow, deep breath.
This time... I have to do something.
The Next Day, at the Apartment—
Sudais pressed the bell. Jamshid, Khalid's elder brother, swung the door open.
"Hello, Uncle! Welcome. Please, come in."
"Bless you. Is your father home?"
"Yes, he's inside." Jamshid then looked at Sudais with a patronizing smirk. "How are you? Welcome, Sudais."
"Bless you," Sudais replied shortly.
Jamshid chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "You're actually participating this time, aren't you? Trying to be a hero?"
Sudais just shrugged, his eyes unreadable. "We'll see."
The training hall was a pressure cooker of mana and ego. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the sound of bodies hitting mats.
Everyone was there.
Khalid, Nisar, Rahman, and Sohrab were warming up, their movements sharp and arrogant. Above, on the balcony, Yunus and the elders watched like gods looking down on mortals.
Tahir, Sudais's second uncle, looked around dismissively. "Dafid didn't show up?"
"I don't know, I don't think so," Tabesh replied.
Tahir let out a short, mocking laugh. "With a son as weak as his, it's obvious why he'd stay hidden. Some shame is better kept at home."
Right then, the heavy doors groaned open.
The room went quiet for a split second. Yunus looked down from the balcony and smiled. "There he is... Dafid has arrived. And Sudais is with him."
As they walked in, the eyes of the young geniuses flickered toward them with boredom or mockery. Sudais's gaze locked onto Khalid's. For a moment, it was as if the rest of the room vanished. Then, Khalid turned back to his training, dismissing Sudais as if he were nothing more than a fly on the wall.
"I'm going up, Son. Are you coming?" Dafid asked.
"No..." Sudais's voice was firm. "I'm staying here."
Dafid paused, looking at his son's back. He saw a shadow of a man he didn't recognize. "Alright. Good luck."
Sohrab walked over, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Sudais? You're staying here? You realize this is a real training, right? Not a playground."
Sudais didn't look at him. "That's why I'm here."
Sohrab snickered and walked away, shaking his head. To them, Sudais was just a joke that refused to end.
Sudais greeted the others briefly. Nisar approached him, his face full of genuine pity.
"Are you ready, Sudais?" He leaned in, whispering, "Look, you don't have to do this. No one will blame you if you sit out. God forbid you get hurt (Ogaar)."
Sudais looked Nisar in the eye. "It's nothing. I'm ready."
Nisar sighed. "Fine. Suit yourself."
The Referee stepped into the center, his presence commanding silence.
"Gather round, boys. How many?"
Khalid looked at the group, his eyes skipping over Sudais for a second before counting him. "Five."
The Referee's eyes landed on Sudais. "I haven't seen this boy before. Who is he?"
"My cousin," Nisar said.
"Oh, Mr. Dafid's son?" The Referee walked over and shook Sudais's hand. "Nice to meet you."
"I am Sudais. Nice to meet you, sir."
The Referee froze for a micro-second. He felt nothing—no mana, no aura. But as he looked into Sudais's eyes, he saw a void, a coldness that didn't match the boy's "weak" reputation. Impossible...
The Referee stepped back and announced the rules:
"Simple. If the back of your arm or your elbow is touched, you're out. Use every technique, every bit of power you have. No holding back."
He pointed to the groups.
"Khalid and Sohrab, you're one team. Nisar and Rahman, you're together."
The Referee's gaze fell on Sudais, who stood apart from the rest, a lone silhouette.
"And you... you're alone."
Khalid tilted his head, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. "Do you have a problem being alone, Sudais? Or do you need a head start?"
Sudais stepped forward into the light of the hall. The mockery, the pity, the insults—they all faded into white noise.
"No," Sudais said, his voice echoing with a weight that made the elders on the balcony lean forward.
"We can start."
The Referee positioned them. The atmosphere was electric, a storm waiting to break.
The whistle touched his lips.
SHRIIIILL!
START.