As they neared their destination, the ruins of old homes came into view. Flags were dug into the sand, barely standing as they waved weakly in the desert wind. Torn and weathered, their designs were almost impossible to make out. Half-buried houses sat crumbling, as if a tsunami of sand had swallowed them whole.
Kamil's eyes stayed locked on the ruins. "My people once lived lives of luxury—wealth, gold, everything. But after the war, we escaped to this tiny patch of land."
From the back seat, a voice asked, "Why do you think that happened?"
He took a slow breath. "Remember what I told you before? The war started because of the greed of the Merchant's Guild. Most of their wealth came from my people's treasures. And when times grew hard, the people—fooled by the Guild—blamed us, the Royal Army."
There was a pause before Ramon spoke. "In the most recent war with the Royal Nebu, the truth came out. People know now. But still… I feel for them. Living in poverty, with no real solution in sight."
Henu gave him a glance. "The only way to save them is by becoming Pharaoh—giving them land to live on, fields to farm, and a way to build wealth again. But no one's brave enough for that. It would cost them their own resources. And even when people know the truth… truth alone doesn't change them."
Yune stretched his legs, leaning back. "The people from the city of Saharan… that place is in ruins. They waged war on us. Even if we forgive them, I doubt our people ever will. There's no saving them. Not unless a miracle comes."
Kamil stared down at his hands. "Honestly… I think it's deserved, at least partly. Even when we were wealthy, the system we lived in was cruel. It was like a pyramid—the lower you were, the less you mattered. Didn't matter if you were kind, strong, or smart. If you weren't born into status, you were just another peasant to the rich. To the so-called royals."
Noya cut in. "Last I checked, no one from your city was actually royal, Kamil. They just called themselves that."
"Yeah… I guess they only said that because they were rich. They all had the Same blood, all of them. The city thrived on gold. But those days are long gone."
As the group entered the roads of the small town, the poverty was apparent. There were potholes filled with dirty rainwater, and the locals wore only small, ragged shirts. Men, women, and children sat outside their homes on the streets, seeking relief from the heat. The houses were like boiling ovens. Outside one of them lay an old man on a wooden bed, flies roaming freely above his head while his feeble hand couldn't swat them away.
The onlookers stared at the car, its expensive metal build shocking them.
"Where will we be staying, Commander Henu?" Kamil asked. "Not some guesthouse again, huh?"
"No," Henu replied. "I've sorted out a place. An old, so-called friend of mine—someone I still respect—offered us a place to stay for the night."
Soon, they arrived at the old man's house. The group began unloading their luggage. Ramon, eager to escape the heat, jumped out of the car. In his rush, he unknowingly bumped into someone and crashed to the ground, dust rising around them. He had accidentally knocked into a young woman.
Grabbing his head and still with his eyes closed, he began babbling, "Sorry, sorry—I'm so sorry…"
Kamil and Yune, stepping out behind him, scolded him.
"Come on, Ramon, couldn't you wait a minute? You hurt someone."
But Ramon didn't answer. He was silent.
The woman sat on the ground, brushing the dust off herself.
"Could you not see me?" she snapped. "You were in such a rush—now my clothes are all dirty."
Yet Ramon, usually talkative, was quiet. He looked at her in silence and awe, unable to tear his eyes away.
"Ramon… Ramon… can you hear me, man?" Noya asked, waving a hand in front of his face.
Snapping back, Ramon quickly stood and offered the young woman a hand. She didn't take it—she stood on her own and dusted off her dress.
With a softer voice, he said again, "Sorry… I'm so sorry."
Only as the young woman walked back into the old man's house—where the group would be staying—did Ramon finally return to his senses.
Everyone soon gathered in a circle, each person's hand on another's shoulder. In a whisper, Noya leaned in.
"I think he's fallen."
Kamil tilted his head. "What do you mean, fallen? He's standing again."
"No, you're too young," Noya said. "Ramon's fallen in love—with that young lady."
Yune, in his usual calm tone, added, "Hmm… I think you're right. He was looking at her in a very serious way. I saw the target in his eyes—it was the girl."
Kasib pulled a face. "Why does everything you say, Yune, have to be related to fighting and targets?"
Khonsu leaned in with a whisper. "Then I guess it's our mission to get them together before we leave. What goes around comes around—and who knows, one day we might fall in love too, and God will help us."
Jack, giggling quietly, placed his hand in the middle of the circle.
"Mission RIN," he whispered.
"Rin?" Noya asked.
"Ramon In Love," Jack explained.
"Right," Khonsu agreed, placing his hand in too. One by one, everyone joined—until they raised their hands together, shouting,
"Mission RIN!"
Everyone except Kasib, who stood back, clearly uninterested—the only one who didn't shout.
I Too Became a Nomad
I too became a nomad, wandering through lands of green fields and endless blue skies.
Along the journey, I saw life divided—
The poor buried beneath the weight of survival,
The rich dancing in luxury,
Yet both shackled—one by hunger,
The other by greed.
The road taught me many things:
Life. Death. Meaning.
Someone I knew passed away—
A person I had just eaten with,
Smiled with only a week before,
Spoken to on the phone not long ago...
And then, I watched as death took them—
Slowly, silently, and without mercy.
I saw corruption wear a polished face.
The rich fed off the sweat of the poor,
Took what little they had—
And I remembered what my people say:
"How long can one last on haram money?"
It made me stop and think—
Is it worth it to chase wealth through fraud or sin,
When death could come any moment?
But the answer came clear,
As I stepped into the mosque:
This life is a test.
The next is the reward—eternal, unending.
My journey not only gave me understanding—
It gave breath to my novel,
Stories to my pen,
And feeling to my heart.
Let me share a tale I heard—one with a lesson:
A doctor once said,
"If God loves us,
Why does He let us suffer?
He must be cruel."
A man turned to him and asked,
"You're a doctor, right?
Why do people still get sick
When there are so many doctors in the world?"
The doctor replied,
"Because people avoid the hospital.
They try to save time,
Or money.
They don't come."
The man smiled and said,
"Exactly.
If people followed what God commands,
Their suffering would surely fade.
But they don't.
That's not on God.
That's on us."