The garden was silent—too silent. The wind stirred the tall grass, and the leaves shimmered in the golden afternoon sun. Birds had flown away long ago, sensing the storm that was about to be unleashed.
The man lunged at Haman with his sword, but Haman swiftly ducked, narrowly avoiding the strike. In one fluid motion, he drew his own blade and slashed at the man's legs. The opponent leapt high, dodging the attack with impressive agility, then spun backward and launched another fierce strike at Haman.
Steel clashed against steel as Haman blocked the incoming blow. Seizing the moment, Haman grabbed the man's arm with a sudden burst of strength and forced his own blade toward the man's throat. But the man, quick to react, caught Haman's sword hand with his free arm and, using his knee, drove a sharp kick into Haman's torso.
The impact broke the grip, and the man twisted free, pushing Haman back. Without missing a beat, he flipped backward—once, twice, three times—gaining distance with graceful precision. He landed lightly on his feet, his stance steady, eyes locked onto Haman with piercing intensity.
Then, with a cold, unblinking stare, he said:
"Do you really think you can defeat me? There isn't a single fighter in this entire city who matches my skill. So you'd better fight carefully—unless you want fewer injuries. I wouldn't want my garden to be stained with pieces of your body and your blood. And frankly, I'd rather not pay my servants extra just to clean up the mess you'll leave behind."
"Unlike you, I don't just talk — I act. And only time will reveal the outcome of all this. As for you calling yourself the 'best fighter,' that alone proves you're nothing, because frankly, I didn't find anything impressive about you."
Haman replied coldly.
_____
Then, the man pulled out a small concealed knife strapped to his wrist beneath his sleeve — swift and silent — and hurled it at Haman with deadly speed. Haman instinctively raised his hand and caught the blade mid-air, the steel just inches from his face.
"Impressive reflexes," the man remarked, eyes narrowing. "You've got a sharp eye."
Without warning, the man tossed his sword aside and sprinted toward Haman at full speed. Seeing the sword fly, Haman too dropped his blade and rushed forward to meet him.
The man threw a powerful punch aimed at Haman's jaw — but Haman caught his wrist in mid-strike.
"You're stronger than you look," the man admitted, gritting his teeth.
Haman answered with a retaliatory punch aimed at the man's ribs — but the man twisted his body and dodged the strike, moving behind Haman with lightning speed.
Then, from behind, he launched a brutal elbow toward Haman's spine —
—but Haman pivoted just in time, blocked the blow with his forearm, and swept the man's legs in one smooth motion.
The man crashed to the ground but rolled away before Haman could follow up.
They both rose to their feet, now unarmed, breathing hard, circling each other like two predators.
--------
The man's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You're fast, Haman... but not fast enough."
He sprinted forward, sword trailing sparks against the stone floor. Haman narrowed his eyes, adjusting his grip. As the enemy closed the distance, Haman sidestepped at the last moment and delivered a swift elbow to the man's ribs, sending him stumbling to the side.
But the man recovered with feline grace, twisting mid-fall and landing on one knee, dragging his sword along with him to parry Haman's follow-up strike. Sparks flew as metal clashed again, their blades screaming in protest.
Then, Haman ducked under a wide slash, swept the man's legs from under him, and drove the tip of his sword down — but the man rolled aside just in time.
In a blink, he threw a hidden dagger from his boot.
Haman deflected it mid-air with a flick of his blade.
"Nice trick," Haman smirked. "Got any more?"
The man grinned darkly, blood trickling from his lip. "You have no idea who you're fighting."
_____
Then, the man reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small, discreet device — sleek, modern, and barely noticeable to the untrained eye. With a subtle movement, he pressed a concealed button on its surface.
As soon as he did, the device emitted not only a faint red light but also released a soft, high-frequency beep — inaudible to the human ear, but instantly picked up by a small earpiece worn by one of his trained servants.
He activated the signal in plain sight, his expression unchanged — so casual, so deliberate, that Haman saw everything… yet understood nothing.
The servant, who was stationed in the kitchen but keeping a careful eye on the garden through the window, straightened immediately. He tossed the dishcloth he had in his hands onto the counter and moved swiftly.
He walked over to Momin, who was busy eating a pastry, and swiftly threw a black cloth over his face so he couldn't see anything. At the same time, he covered Momin's mouth with his hand to keep him from making a sound.
He firmly grabbed the boy by the arm and began walking him out, heading straight toward the man, who stood in the garden.
After bringing Momin to the man, the servant departed, leaving only Haman, Momin, and the man in the garden.
----
The man placed his sword against Momin's neck and said to Haman,
"Surrender, or the boy dies."
Haman froze.
Before him stood the innocent child—now only a blade's edge away from death.
His heart clenched with pain. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Haman's soul screamed in silence.
He swallowed back his tears, but his eyes burned with fire.
"If you so much as touch this child… your fate will be sealed that very instant."
For the first time, his voice carried a storm — ready to sweep everything away.
The man flinched slightly, but the sword still hovered dangerously close to Momin's throat.
Haman stepped forward.
Then another step.
The sword in his clenched fist now burned like his heart — with pain, fury, and love.
"Don't you dare take one more step," the man warned,
"or you'll find the boy drowned in his own blood."
"Not while I'm alive," Haman replied coldly.
In the garden, only the sound of breathing remained.
The man pressed the blade even closer to Momin's neck.
A faint cry escaped the boy's throat — but he quickly held himself firm.
His eyes still held more faith than fear.
"I'll count to three, Haman,"
the man's voice was laced with venom.
"If you stop, the boy lives. If not…"
"One…"
Thoughts raced through Haman's mind like lightning.
The garden, once beautiful, had become a battlefield.
He glanced around — a flowerpot lay nearby.
"Two…"
Without wasting a moment, he grabbed a handful of pebbles from the pot —
and hurled them toward the man with lightning speed.
The man skillfully deflected them with his sword —
but in that single moment… Momin had slipped from his grasp.
That heartbeat changed everything.
Haman lunged like a flash, pulled Momin toward himself,
tore the black cloth from the child's face,
and placed a protective hand on his head — like a mother shielding her child.
Momin, trembling, reached out his tiny finger to touch Haman's face.
"I knew… you would come,"
he whispered — then fell unconscious.
Haman pulled him into a tight embrace,
feeling the faint heartbeat against his chest.
From his lips came only one vow:
"As long as I live… nothing will ever harm you."
Then he drew his sword — fire in his eyes, an oath in his grip —
and turned to face the man who still stood ready.
"You won't escape this time."
_____
The man grabbed his sword tightly and charged at Haman, launching a fierce strike. But Haman swiftly dodged, flipping backward with acrobatic precision. As he landed, he rolled across the ground, seized his own sword, and — still kneeling — hurled it with deadly accuracy toward his opponent.
The spinning blade cut through the air, closing the distance rapidly. The man shifted to the side just in time, avoiding a fatal hit — but the blade grazed his upper arm, tearing through both flesh and fabric, leaving a shallow wound and ripping the sleeve open.
The man gripped his sword tighter and rushed at Haman again, shouting:
"Let's see you escape this time!"
But Haman didn't retreat.
Instead, in a blur of motion, he ducked and slid between the man's legs, emerging behind him. With a fluid motion, he snatched up his sword once more and delivered a powerful kick directly to the man's lower back.
The man stumbled forward, off balance.
Haman seized the moment — he struck hard at the man's sword arm. The impact forced the man to release his weapon, which fell clattering to the ground.
Before he could recover, Haman pressed the edge of his own blade firmly against the man's neck.
"Now tell me—who are you and what do you want?" Haman demanded furiously.
The man gave a faint smile. "Now I understand why Ajal chose you as his ally. You truly are the best fighter. I'm impressed. I've never seen anyone with your level of intensity and passion."
He took a step forward, his expression softening.
"You have earned the right to know the truth.
I am the leader of this underground city, Demara. My name is Samad.
The truth is—I was testing you. I wanted to see if you were someone I could trust. I needed to know how far you would go to protect the child. Why else would I attack one of my own citizens? I don't trust outsiders easily, especially someone who once stood beside the tyrant Ajal.
But you… you're nothing like him. You have compassion, empathy, and kindness within you. And I don't make mistakes when it comes to reading people.
Congratulations. You've passed the test."
Samad said these words to Haman with sincerity in his voice.
Haman took a step back, lowering his sword, his face still serious, but his eyes softened.
____
Suddenly…
Out of nowhere—
"Bang!"
A bullet pierced straight into Haman's heart.
And then—thud!
The earth embraced him in its arms.
The light in his eyes began to fade, slowly.
His lips tried to speak,
But the words bled away with his life.
For a moment,
Everything stood still.
His hand reached out toward Momin—
But the path was left incomplete.
---
Sometimes, life does what you never expect,
In a blink, it all shifts, nothing feels correct.
Darkness settles where light used to be,
Right before your eyes—but you just can't see.
Time doesn't pause, and wounds don't heal,
The silence is heavy, too deep to feel.
And all you're left with, in the quiet abyss,
Is a whisper:
"I never thought it would come to this…"
---