Chapter 2 – Shadows Beneath the Surface
Everyone had left the training field, but Ariz still lay on the cold, hard ground, staring blankly at the sky. His friend, Taron, had tried to help him up, but Ariz refused. He said he just wanted to rest for a while. With a heavy sigh, Taron left him alone.
Ariz remained there, motionless, lost in thought. His body ached from the beating, but what hurt more was the weight in his heart. He thought about his life—about being an orphan, about the one person who had ever stayed by his side.
His grandfather.
The old man who found him abandoned in the vast desert. Hakeem al-Salim—a kind healer known throughout the village. A wrinkled old man with a bald head and a long, white beard. Always seen wearing a faded brown robe, Hakeem was respected by everyone. To Ariz, he was more than a guardian. He was family.
Ariz knew the only reason he hadn't given up on life was because of his grandfather. Even after being humiliated, mocked, and called worthless, he kept going. Because he couldn't abandon the man who had raised him. Not now. Not in his old age. To die while leaving Hakeem alone—that would be true sorrow.
As the sky turned amber with the setting sun, Ariz finally stood up. It was almost night. He had been lying there for nearly an hour. Dusting himself off, he made his way back home.
To get to his village, Dahraan, he had to cross the Zarqaah River, which flowed between the village and the sword hall. Everyone from the village knew this path well—it was the only way home.
But just as Ariz approached the riverbank, a familiar, mocking voice cut through the air.
"Hey, loser."
Ariz froze. He turned slowly to see who it was.
Zayen.
The same boy who had beaten him up earlier, now standing with his two loyal followers. He wore a cocky smirk, eyes filled with disdain. Ariz said nothing, but he understood that look. He knew exactly why Zayen was angry.
It had all started two years ago, during the Awakening Ceremony. Ariz had shown incredible potential in swordsmanship, surprising everyone. People gathered around him, amazed by his natural talent. Even the instructors had praised him.
But one person in the crowd had been more interested than the rest—Noor Al-Najjan. A senior student at the sword hall, she was known as both a Rank II swordswoman and a Rank II witch. One of the strongest in the entire hall.
After the ceremony, Noor had personally approached Ariz. She offered him a spot on her elite battle team—an invitation many dreamed of receiving. Ariz, overwhelmed and unsure, had asked for some time to think.
But then... his power began to fade.
And before he could accept her offer, he had lost the ability that had once shocked everyone. Ashamed and uncertain, he never contacted her. And she never contacted him.
Zayen had witnessed it all. He had tried to approach Noor afterward, trying to get into her team himself. But she didn't even look at him.
Since that day, he blamed Ariz.
He believed that if Ariz hadn't been chosen, Noor might have considered him instead. And now, every time he saw Ariz, it ignited a fire of resentment inside him.
And tonight… it seemed that fire was about to explode.
Zayen took a step forward.
Ariz clenched his fists.
Zayen smirked, eyes gleaming with arrogance. "You should've stayed down, loser."
Before Ariz could react, Zayen and his two lackeys lunged. The beating was brutal—fists, kicks, laughter echoing against the river's calm surface. Pain surged through Ariz's body as his limbs buckled under the assault. His arms twisted unnaturally. His legs gave in. He couldn't even scream anymore.
"Let's see if Noor still looks at you after this," Zayen spat.
Then, without a shred of hesitation, they dragged his broken body to the edge of the Zarqaah River. Cold water rushed past, unaware of the cruelty unfolding beside it.
"Say goodbye," Zayen whispered, then shoved him in.
The shock of the water hit Ariz like a thousand blades. He tried to swim, tried to scream—but nothing moved. His body didn't respond. The world above blurred as he sank, helpless and broken.
Is this how I die? he thought.
Images flashed before him—his grandfather's smile, the warm light of their small home, the mocking faces of those who once admired him. Rage, sorrow, and regret twisted inside him like a storm.
I was too weak... too slow... too useless...
His chest burned. His lungs screamed for air. Darkness crept in.
If only... just one more chance...
And then, just as everything faded—
"Do you really want it?"
A voice. Cold. Clear. Unfamiliar. Yet it pierced through the void.
"One more chance. If yes… just say it in your mind."
Ariz's eyes widened.
Yes