Swords of Justice
Chapter 15: (The Full Story)
This time, Muawiya stood differently. It wasn't the stance of the Mantis. Instead, he spread his arms, clutching his twin daggers, looking fully prepared for a powerful strike. Hamza realized this and gripped his iron staff, bracing for defense.
"My God," Fateh laughed. "It looks like Muawiya is serious this time."
Jalal glanced at him but said nothing, turning his gaze back to the battle.
Muawiya sneered, "You don't believe me, huh? Draw your sword, because you won't survive this attack!"
He leapt, spinning like a top, and came crashing down toward Hamza. Hamza barely managed to jump back, and Muawiya's blow struck the ground with such force that it cracked open beneath him.
The Lady laughed. "That's Muawiya. To tell you the truth, he is the strongest of all my men."
Muawiya spun again, lunging at Hamza. This time Hamza tried to block, but the ferocity of the strike shattered his iron staff and cut into his arm, forcing him to leap back in pain.
Muawiya laughed mockingly. "What a pitiful wretch you are…"
"Draw your sword, Hamza!" Jalal shouted in alarm. "You can't defeat him without it!"
Hamza tore a strip of cloth, tied it around his wound, and indeed drew his sword.
Princess Hasnaa whispered to herself, No, Hamza… don't kill anyone else, please…
Jalal caught her words and reassured her. "Don't worry, Princess. I don't think Hamza is the kind of man who breaks his promises."
"So, he's finally drawn his sword…" the Lady murmured. "Let's see what kind of fighter he really is."
"At last," Muawiya said to Hamza, "you'll fight me seriously. But don't think this will change anything."
"When I defeat you," Hamza challenged, "you'll tell me the full story."
Muawiya's eyes flared with rage. "You still insist I haven't told you everything? Fine—I'll show you hell!"
He repeated his deadly spinning attack, but this time Hamza, with his mastery of swordsmanship, managed to block the strike, halt the spin, and then kick Muawiya hard in the stomach, sending him flying back.
The Lady gasped in disbelief. "Impossible… he blocked Muawiya's lethal attack!"
But Muawiya refused to accept defeat. Thinking aloud, he shouted, "Damn you all! You boast of your strength and forget the rest of us. You have no right!"
"Be a man," Hamza demanded, "and tell me the full story."
Muawiya staggered to his feet, running toward Hamza, screaming, "Damn it, damn it, damn it! You want the truth? Fine, here it is! Yes, I killed them all—but for a reason… revenge!"
He slashed with his right dagger, but Hamza blocked it with his sword. Muawiya's voice trembled with fury. "They wiped out my village!"
Everyone froze in shock. Muawiya struck again with his left dagger, but Hamza dodged and headbutted him, sending him crashing to the ground, blood trickling from his forehead. Still, he went on:
"I was the only one who survived that night—not because I ran or hid, but because they let me live. Their leader told me I was chosen—to be trained in their martial art. Imagine being asked to join the very men who butchered your family! I refused. I screamed in their faces and swore I'd kill them. But then they told me they were just like me—every one of them had lost their families and villages. For the Mantis style to be passed down, the heir's kin had to be slaughtered, whether he wanted it or not. That night, I was chosen. They told me I'd live among them as one of the heirs of the Mantis style. What nonsense! Were they mocking me? Back then, I didn't have the strength to kill them. So I accepted… and I trained, year after year, biding my time—until the day came. And I avenged myself… one by one, I slaughtered them all.
And now, I'll kill you too. Yes—you, and no one else."
Hamza smiled coldly. "Try if you can. I am Hamza ibn Ali—the one who will end the Mantis style."
Muawiya rose, his daggers raised, trembling with rage. "Don't mock me! You don't know what I've been through!"
Hamza remembered the village where his fiancée once lived, the suffering, the pain. Fury burned in him, and he swung his sword, ready to cut Muawiya in half—
But Princess Hasnaa's desperate cry stopped him. "Hamza! Don't do it!"
Her voice snapped him out of the haze of vengeance. He deflected Muawiya's wild swings and struck him with the blunt side of his blade, knocking him down without killing him.
Jalal whispered to himself, astonished. "Unbelievable… the Princess's words saved him. I'm certain—had she not cried out, Hamza would have cut him in two. And Hamza too… he managed to affect Muawiya, not with words, but with his sword. What a remarkable warrior…"
Hamza offered his hand to Muawiya. Shocked by what had just happened, Muawiya realized something: he had lost. For the first time in history, the Mantis style had been defeated. He took Hamza's hand and admitted his defeat.
Fateh rose, declaring, "Well then, men. We've lost. We shall join the soldiers of the Kingdom of Dar Homsan. Isn't that right, my Lady?"
But the Lady muttered incoherently, unable to accept defeat—especially at the hands of the kingdom's soldiers. Memories flooded her mind: flames, corpses scattered across the ground, blood everywhere, cries for mercy, cries for death. And there, a little girl hiding behind a barrel, watching soldiers revel in the slaughter. Their emblem was the crest of Dar Homsan. That girl… was the Lady herself.
She screamed in madness, "Damn you! Damn you all, you bastards! Release the ghoul! Release the ghoul and let it devour them!"
To be continued…