📜 READER RULES
"A Realm Where Cowards Get Lost Twice"
1. This story uses a system structure.
Not a tax system, not a coding system— a choice-based survival system.
And every choice has consequences. (Yes, even the stupid ones.)
2. You must be as honorable as a grandmaster in desert chess.
Once your finger touches a pawn—no takebacks.
No crying. No "I didn't mean it."
Live with your decision.
3. Do NOT read all paths.
You're not an omniscient deity. Choose one route and stay loyal.
If you peek at the others, the jinn will judge your commitment issues.
The protagonist's fate is now in your hands.
If they die, that's between you and your conscience.
Do not DM the author at 2 a.m. to blame the plot twist.
Confused? Terrified? Regretting your choices?
Perfect.
That means the system works.
Proceed.
6. You may laugh, scream, or re-evaluate your life choices.
You may NOT go back and redo the chapter.
This is not a dating sim.
This is destiny—with lag.
***
SAFRA's light dipped lower, its pale yellow glare slicing across the crystal trunks like freshly sharpened blades.
The air thinned.
The breath of the two young men rasped harshly—more like sandpaper dragged across their throats than anything resembling normal inhalation.
The circle of monsters tightened.
The four-eyed creatures with dark, bluish-black skin crawled forward, their thin legs scraping the glassy ground:
krrt… krrk… krrt…
Among them, the six-legged monsters with cracked-porcelain faces advanced without a sound, each step sending a trembling echo up through Rafi and Sahim's soles.
Sahim swallowed a throat long devoid of moisture.
His chest rose and fell painfully, as if beaten from the inside.
He glanced at Rafi—his friend's eyes were flushed red, not only from fear, but from exhaustion, dehydration, and prayers forced out too often and too fast.
"Bro…" Sahim's voice cracked, more a leaking breath than a sentence.
"If we stay together… we die together… I don't want to leave you alone."
A warmth rose in Rafi's throat—not from SAFRA, but from a mix of gratitude and terror.
He nodded, jaw tightening.
"Na'am… ma'an."
(Yes… together.)
He drew a short, trembling breath.
"Take off the gamis. Throw it far left. We look for the dark gap. Don't split. Whatever happens… don't split."
Their hands moved slowly—carefully, so as not to trigger immediate attacks. Their loose robes slid off their shoulders, revealing thin shirts and bodies already worn down by panic and lack of food.
One…
Two…
They threw the robes—toward a thicker cluster of crystal. The cloth drifted, danced briefly in the air, then landed with the softest sound.
Half the monsters turned at once—four eyes following the curve of fabric, their scentless "noses" parsing the sweat molecules clinging to it.
A GAP.
Small.
Narrow.
But real.
"Yalla…, akhi… RUN!!" Rafi hissed, his voice cracking.
"NOW—!!!"
They ran—not a heroic sprint, but the stumbling, collapsing run of men whose knees had wanted to quit two hours earlier.
Crystal ground fractured beneath their sandals.
Shards glinted upward.
Rafi's breathing sounded like a dying engine.
Behind them, claws scraped hard against the crystal.
Some monsters chased the fabric—
but not all.
Two cracked-porcelain creatures froze.
Tilted their heads.
Sampling the air.
They did not follow the robe.
They followed heat.
Rafi felt it without looking.
His spine crawled with dread, as if SAFRA itself had turned to face him.
"Bro…" His breath broke.
"…they're tracking temperature… not scent…"
Sahim clenched his teeth—hard enough to ache.
"Ana ma'ak, ya Rafi… ma natruk ba'dh."
(I'm with you, Rafi… we won't leave each other behind.)
SAFRA cut their bodies into long shadows.
The crystal forest parted slightly ahead—a slit between two towering glass pillars, narrow enough for two desperate humans to force themselves into.
Rafi pulled Sahim's hand.
His knees threatened collapse.
His ribs burned.
They shoved themselves through, shoulders scraping frozen glass.
Crystal edges cut their skin.
New heat—fresh blood—spread down their arms.
One porcelain-faced monster planted its feet before the gap, lowering its head, its dim eyes flaring. Sahim felt a faint vibration in the ground—not footsteps, but sensing.
It wasn't smelling them.
It was listening to their heartbeats through the crystal.
He almost wept.
"Ya Rabb… La taj'al akhiri huna…"
(Ya Rabb… don't let my end be here…)
Rafi lifted his phone with shaking hands—the only relic of the old world still functioning.
He tapped anything, everything.
The flash exploded.
White light burst across the pillars—splintering into dozens of sharp reflections that stabbed into the monsters' eyes. Some reeled back, pupils shrinking. A six-legged creature growled—a dry, stone-on-stone sound.
Sahim used that fraction of a second.
He threw his arms around Rafi from behind and shoved him out of the gap with every scrap of strength he had left.
"Run!! Yalla, ya rajul!!"
(RUN!! Go, my brother!!)
They spilled out of the slit and down a sloping path. The ground here was harsher, littered with blunt crystal shards and powdery glass.
Every step hurt.
Rafi tripped—almost fell.
Sahim grabbed his collar and forced him forward.
Their breathing had devolved into ragged animal sounds—no longer speech.
Behind them—
laws scraped crystal again.
krrt.
krrrkk.
KRRRRTT—!
The porcelain monster had recovered.
It leapt—its six legs moving in horrifying synchrony.
The thudding came next.
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP—
SAFRA cast a giant shadow racing toward them—longer than their own bodies, stretching for their backs.
Rafi knew his body had crossed its threshold.
His calves felt like stone.
His waist felt tied to gravity itself.
From the Nabat grove…
to the glass-wolf chase…
to the entire desperate run…
It all funneled into this breaking point.
His step faltered.
He almost fell to his knees.
Sahim saw—
and terror exploded across his face.
"RAFIII… NOOOOO!!"
He held Rafi upright, forcing movement into legs that were no longer listening.
"QUM! QUM! Stand, bro! Just a little more! A little!!"
Rafi shook his head weakly.
"Ana… ta'ban… ya Sahim…"
(I'm tired, Sahim…)
His breath—gone,
his body—empty.
Sahim clenched his jaw so hard his skull ached.
He shifted, crouched—
and hauled Rafi onto his back.
His shoulders trembled.
His spine burned.
His legs felt like two hollow sticks.
But he moved.
Step one—
too heavy.
Step two—
the world tilted.
Step three—
the THUMP behind them was closer than his own heartbeat.
"Put me down, Sahim… let me—" Rafi gasped.
"NOOO!!" Sahim snarled.
"Uskut… shut it. I'm carrying you. However far we get—I'm carrying you!!"
The monsters did not care for their resolve.
One leap.
Two leaps.
The ground shook.
The air smelled of hot metal.
Sahim jerked forward. The first claw slashed his back.
Fabric tore.
Skin tore.
A sickening "crack" whispered from a bone that should not have bent.
He didn't fall.
Not immediately.
He made two more steps before his knees betrayed him.
Rafi slid from his back, rolling over crystal shards.
He tried to stand—
but a monster's leg slammed into his chest.
Air blasted from his lungs.
The world narrowed.
Another four-eyed creature crawled in from the side—mouth opening silently, rows of glass teeth gleaming.
Rafi raised his arm on instinct—trying to shield his face. But the claw did not fall.
Sahim dragged himself forward—
half crawling, half pulling—
and shoved his body between Rafi and the killing blow.
The claw struck his already wounded back.
His scream stayed trapped in his throat.
Only his breath broke.
"SAHIIIM!!" Rafi shrieked—voice cracking, shattering.
The monster's face hovered close— its four eyes reflecting the two young men in warped, eerie angles.
Rafi reached for Sahim's hand.
Their fingers touched on the ground.
Blood warmth mixed under their intertwined hands.
"Akhi…" Rafi whispered, his voice a fading spark.
"Ma'an… ma tamut wahdak…"
(My brother… we don't die alone…)
Sahim smiled—broken, agonized, surrendered.
Tears streamed through dust and blood.
"Wallahi… Ma atrukak…"
(By Allah… I won't leave you…)
The monster inhaled.
Blood. Fear. Sweat.
It lowered its glass jaws toward their necks.
Another creature lunged in greed—its claws sinking into Rafi's thigh.
Pain exploded—white and total.
Sahim squeezed Rafi's hand—every last ounce of strength crushed into that grip.
"Qul ma'aya…" he breathed, voice nearly gone.
"Qul… La Ilaha Illa Allah…"
(Say it with me… our final prayer.)
Rafi shook.
"Laa… Ilaha… Illa… Allah…"
Their voices collided—shattered—trembling.
The monster's jaws closed.
SAFRA flashed across its teeth.
A short thunderclap.
Then silence.
Blood splashed onto glassy ground, spreading like ink on clear water. The three suns remained hanging.
Among shattered crystal and torn cloth, two hands remained clasped—
fingers locked, slowly stiffening as falling shards covered them like snow.
No loud prayers.
No screams left.
Only the world recorded it:
two young men who chose dying together
over running alone.
***
—Epilogue: Verses for Those Who Ran, and Those Who Stayed—
in every world,
upon every path carved by fear or hope,
there are those who walk alone
and those who choose to walk together.
And the heavens bear witness
to both kinds of courage.
Not a tear falls
except it is counted,
and not a breath breaks
except it is known.
For the One who shaped suns and soil
has written mercy
into the quiet places
where no human tongue remains to speak it.
And when two hearts hold fast to one another
in the hour when the shadows rise—
that loyalty is carried upward,
etched in light.
No step is lost.
No terror is forgotten.
No prayer—
even the one that ends halfway—
is erased.
For behold:
the worlds are wide,
and fear is many,
yet Mercy surrounds all things
as the horizon surrounds the wandering traveler.
So let it be known:
those who stand for one another
in the moment of breaking
are never abandoned
in the realm beyond breaking.
And when their bodies fell beneath the hunter's sun,
their names rose—
not as victims of a cruel world,
but as witnesses of a love
that did not run
when the night pressed in.
And their story remains on the wind,
a reminder to every soul that trembles:
The path is dark,
but you are seen.
The world is wide,
but you are held.
And in the reckoning of the Eternal,
nothing given in love
is ever lost.
—Verde