Chapter no.2 The Boy and The Darkness

[ The Human Realm ]

[ The Ottoman Empire - Baghdad ]

The afternoon sun beat down upon the streets of Baghdad, casting a golden glow upon the city. The air wad thick with the scent of spices and the sounds of merchants hawking their wares in the bustling markets.

As the city's inhabitants went about their day, the narrow streets are awash with color and activity. Vibrant fabrics hang from open-air stalls, and the air is filled with the sound of chatter and laughter. The occasional bray of a donkey or the clop of horse hooves can be heard as they transport goods from one part of the city to another.

....

[ Al-Mustansiriya School ]

The students filed into the ancient halls of the prestigious Al-Mustansiriya School, the air heavy with anticipation as they listened to their esteemed teacher delivering a momentous lecture on the city's newfound entry into the Industrial Revolution.

The teacher stood at the front of the class, facing his students who were seated in rows on the intricately tiled floor. "My dear students," he began, "Today we embark on a new chapter in the history of Baghdad. Our great city has made significant strides in the field of industrialization, and we stand on the cusp of a monumental transformation."

As the teacher expounded on the merits and challenges of the Industrial Revolution, the students listened with rapt attention. Suddenly, the windows at the back of the classroom rattled with a thunderous roar, and the students turned to see a magnificent steam engine hurtling past the academy, belching smoke into the clear blue sky.

As the teacher continued his lecture, the students couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and apprehension at what the future held for their city. Just then, a loud call to prayer rang out from the minaret of a nearby mosque, signaling the end of classes.

"Well, that's all for today," the teacher concluded. "Remember, we are the future of Baghdad, and it's up to us to ensure that we guide our city towards a prosperous and just future."

....

The sun was setting over the Al-Mustansiriya School, casting a warm orange glow on the mud brick walls and intricate designs of the architecture.

The courtyard was bustling with the sounds of students and their families as they gathered to leave for the day. The children ran out of the classrooms, their faces beaming with pride and excitement. Some laughed and chattered with their friends, while others rushed to meet their parents with a sense of accomplishment.

"Mother, father, look at what I've achieved today!" A young boy called out, running towards his parents. He was dressed in a white tunic and loose pants, his hair neatly combed and his school satchel slung over his shoulder. "I scored the highest marks in my class!"

"Well done, son!" His father exclaimed, embracing him warmly. He wore a traditional dishdasha and a keffiyeh on his head. "Your hard work has paid off."

"May we go get some sweets to celebrate, mother?" The boy asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Of course, my dear," his mother replied, dressed in an abaya. "But first, we should greet your teacher."

The boy nodded eagerly, and they walked towards the main hall, where the teachers were gathering to bid farewell to the students and their families. The hall was decorated with motifs and calligraphy, and the floors were made of smooth marble. The sounds of footsteps echoed through the halls as the families made their way to the main hall.

"Thank you for your dedication this year," one of the teachers said, bowing to the families. He wore a traditional thobe and a ghutra on his head. "We hope to see you all again next year."

"Thank you, teacher," the families replied, bowing back. They were dressed in a mix of traditional and modern clothing, some in abayas, others in western suits and dresses. "We appreciate your guidance and support for our children."

As the children and families left the school, they encountered a group of street children begging for alms. The children knelt down, holding out their hands and pleading for money. The sound of their cries filled the air, tugging at the hearts of those who heard them. Some of the families gave their children a few dinars to give to the street children as a way of helping out.

The street children were dressed in worn-out clothes, some missing buttons, and others with tears and patches. Their shoes were frayed and had holes in them, and their socks were thin and tattered. The children looked thin and malnourished, their faces dirty and tired. They begged for help, their voices filled with tears and desperation.

Some of the families stopped to give the street children some money, while others walked by without stopping. They seemed indifferent to the children's plight and did not offer any assistance. The street children continued to beg for help, their voices growing more and more desperate. Tears streamed down their faces as they pleaded for assistance, their cries filling the air with a sense of hopelessness and despair.

As the last of the students and their parents departed the area, a group of ragged children huddled together to discuss their meager earnings from a day of begging on the streets of Baghdad.

The group was made up of a diverse range of ages, from six to thirteen years old. The youngest, a thin and malnourished-looking boy with dirty blonde hair, went by the name of Ahmad. He clutched a handful of coins and reported on their meager earnings, "I collected four copper dirhams and a silver one," he said in a low voice, his eyes scanning the group.

A girl with matted brown hair and ragged clothes added her contribution to the pile. Her name was Noura, "I only got two copper dirhams and a fals," she said, her voice barely audible.

As they continued to tally up their earnings, it became clear that the group had not made much money that day. Despite their best efforts, they had only collected a few coins in total. The sound of clinking coins was the only thing that could be heard as the children counted their money, the silence was deafening.

"What's the point of begging outside this school?" a black-haired boy in tattered clothing yelled in frustration. His name was Abbas, his voice filled with anger and despair.

"Keep your voice down, Abbas, you know we don't want to attract attention," cautioned Hadi, one of the older boys in the group.

"I remember what the boss said, that the parents will always give us money," Abbas replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Then why are you complaining?" asked Zahra, a girl with a scarf wrapped around her head.

"Because we could earn more if we spread out and begged in different parts of the city," Abbas grumbled.

"Perhaps, but you know the adults won't take kindly to us infringing on their territory," Hadi pointed out.

"Where is the boss anyway?" Abbas asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

"You know how he is," replied Omar, the tallest and oldest of the group, with a hint of amusement. "He is probably getting into trouble."

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

The bustling streets of Baghdad were crowded with people, the vibrant colors of their clothing and the tantalizing smells of the local cuisine filling the air. Amidst the chaos, a young street urchin ran through the market, his tattered garments fluttering behind him. He was around the age of fifteen, but his lean physique and quick reflexes made him appear much younger.

His tanned skin was covered in grime and dirt, and a turban wrapped tightly around his head concealed his unkempt raven black hair.

He carried a small bag over his shoulder, containing the precious goods he had "acquired" that day.

The sound of angry voices echoed behind him, growing louder and closer with each passing second. The boy knew that he was being chased, the local butcher and his assistants were hot on his trail. He calculated the distance between himself and his pursuers, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the main square in the distance, and he knew that this was his only chance.

The boy darted through the marketplace, weaving in and out of shops and stalls, the angry cries of the butcher and his assistants following close behind. He scrambled up a pile of crates, leaping across rooftops and dodging obstacles as he made his way towards the main square. As he landed on the roof of a bar restaurant, the boy glanced behind him to see the butcher and his assistant entering the establishment, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of the young thief.

The butcher and his assistants burst into the kitchen, their faces red with fury, only to find the room empty and the window open.

They rushed to the window and looked outside, only to see a train passing by below.

It thundered down the tracks with a deafening roar, sending vibrations through the ground and rattling the windowpanes.

The butcher turned to his assistants, confusion etched on his face. " He couldn't have gone there, could he?" he muttered to himself.

Just then, the owner of the bar, a stout man with a thick beard and a turban on his head, appeared in the doorway. "What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice booming.

....

The attic of the bar was small and cramped, with only a single window letting in a beam of light that illuminated the dusty air. Boxes and crates were stacked haphazardly against the walls, creating a maze-like path for anyone who ventured inside.

I was perched on an old chest, my loot spread out before me as I counted my spoils. The rustling of my hands through the coins and trinkets was the only sound in the room, until the attic door suddenly creaked open.

In walked a young girl, her eyes filled with disdain as she took in my sight. Beside her were two small children, their eyes widening as they saw the stolen goods strewn across the chest.

"What are you doing up here?" Aisha demanded, her voice sharp with authority. "I need to study, and I can't do that with you here."

I smirked, my eyes flickering with mischief as I leaned back against the wall. "Well, hello there, beautiful. Didn't think little Aisha would grow up to be so beautiful and strong ?"

The girl merely rolled her eyes, her expression unimpressed as she gestured towards the door. "I said leave. And take your stolen goods with you."

The two children snickered as I unwrapped the turban knowing that my disguse would be easily recognized in the streets. My crimson red hair fell in waves around my face, and his eyes - deep shade of purple.

" Leave now, you thief !" Aisha screamed as I chuckled.

" Wow, I didn't think someone could change this much. It was just yesterday when little Aisha would beg me to marry her and take her away in a flying carpet."

The children looked mesmerized by my tale while Aisha looked ready to kill me.

" Leave !"

I winked at the girl, a playful grin on my face, but she threw a sandal at me, narrowly missing my head. I merely laughed, my eyes sparkling with mischief as I walked to the window. "Tell your father, we'll discuss our split tomorrow."

"Oh please, you still lie about that. Why would my father associate with an uneducated thief like you?"

"Remember, Aisha, this uneducated thief was the one who taught you math, little missy. And why do you think your father still lets me hide in his bar every other week rather than reporting me to the authorities?" I chuckled as Aisha's smug look was wiped from her face as I jumped out of the window.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

As I weaved my way through the labyrinthine alleyways of Baghdad, my heart raced with every step, a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was being followed. I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder every few steps, but the feeling persisted, growing stronger with every passing moment.

Suddenly, I heard a rustling noise behind me. My eyes darted around, trying to find the source of the noise, but all I could see were the narrow walls of the alley. My hands trembled as I reached for the small knife I kept tucked in my pocket. I was an expert pickpocket, but I had never been in a situation like this before.

"Who's there?" I called out, my voice shaking with fear as I slowly moved toward a much more crowded area.

No answer came, but the rustling grew louder. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I turned a corner, and the source of the noise came into view. A man was following me, dressed in strange Eastern attire, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword.

I tried to pick up my pace, hoping to lose him in the crowded market up ahead, but he seemed to be matching my every step.

I emerged from the narrow alleyway, my heart pounding in my chest as I saw the bustling market square laid out before me. But before I could take another step, I skidded to a stop as a figure appeared in front of me in the blink of an eye.

It was the man who had been following me, his expression cold and unfeeling as he blocked my path.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I watched the man take out a strange crystal slip from his pocket. The crystal glowed with otherworldly energy, pulsing in a way that reminded me of a tree made of pure light. It was a sight that left me both fascinated and apprehensive.

As the man held the crystal in his hand, I noticed that his demeanor had changed. He seemed more focused as if he was channeling some sort of power through the crystal. It was an unsettling sight, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was capable of with that strange artifact.

"Mister, what can I do to help you?" I asked, my voice laced with a tinge of fear. My eyes darted nervously over the man's clothing and weapon, trying to gauge any potential threat he might pose. It was an unnerving sight to see a Chinese man in the city of Baghdad, and I couldn't help but wonder how he had ended up here.

God; if you exist, why did you curse me with meeting a man from that land?"

I thought as I heard the man's words.

"Ah, seems like I wasn't mistaken; it did react to you."

At that moment, I knew I had to act quickly if I wanted to survive this predicament. With shaking hands, I rummaged through my pocket and pulled out a handful of silver coins, offering them to the stranger as a means to stall for time.

"Please, just let me go," I pleaded, allowing tears to well up in my eyes as I tried to evoke compassion from the man by meeting his gaze. "I don't want any trouble."

The man merely laughed, his countenance icy and detached. "What a curious child," he remarked, advancing another step toward me.

Panic set in as I sensed something amiss, and my heart raced uncontrollably. My vision blurred, and eventually, everything turned pitch black.

Zhang Wei's gait was hindered by a limp as he extended his hand, which emanated a glow of spiritual Qi. His skin morphed into gauze before shooting out like a tendril to catch the unconscious youth before he collided with the ground. The auburn-haired street child was effortlessly lifted by the gauze, which enveloped him from head to toe, resembling a mummy.

With a flick of his finger, Zhang Wei suspended the swathed youngster in mid-air.

With the skill and precision of a seasoned expert, Zhang Wei deftly retrieved a small talisman hidden within the folds of his garments. He flung the unassuming object into the air, where it appeared to shimmer for a moment before unfurling into a breathtaking inscription array. The inscriptions glowed with vibrant energy, the intricate patterns of runes, portents, and enchantments interweaving to form a mesmerizing tapestry that seemed to defy the very laws of reality.

As the inscription array expanded, it created a gateway that appeared to tear through the fabric of space and time. Without a moment's hesitation, Zhang Wei stepped through the portal, the swaddled beggar securely cradled in the air.

A sense of impending doom permeated the atmosphere, and the ground under Zhang Wei's feet seemed precarious and unstable. The realm that lay beyond the gateway was a world utterly foreign to the beggar, defying any attempt to fathom or understand its nature.

"At last, I can escape this mortal domain," Zhang Wei murmured, his voice hushed and filled with a sinister tone.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

[ Xuanjie Realm - Wuji Continent]

Above the mundane plane of existence, beyond the grasp of mortal hands, lies the elusive Xuanjie Realm - a realm shrouded in mystique and wonder, a realm that gives birth to beings so fantastical that they are deemed but mere figments of human imagination.

The Xuanjie Realm, an enigmatic world beyond the reach of mortal ken, is divided into continents so vast that they dwarf the entirety of the mortal realm, separated by an infinite void of space that stretches beyond the limits of comprehension.

It is upon one of these continents, known as Wuji, that the Murim reside - creatures of legend and myth, fabled beings of extraordinary power and prowess, whose very existence is nothing but a mere whisper in the ears of mortal men.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

[ The Black Lotus Cult ]

[ The Demon Prison Cave - Cell HGG42 ]

As my eyes fluttered open, I was immediately met with a darkness so complete, it felt as though a thick, suffocating blanket had been thrown over me. I tried to move my arms, but they felt heavy and unresponsive, as if they were chained to my sides. Panic began to set in as I realized that my body wasn't responding to my commands. The only thing I could move was my eyelids, which flickered with desperation as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

The darkness was absolute, as if I had been plunged into the abyssal depths of the ocean. No light could penetrate the void that surrounded me, and the air was thick with the musty stench of corruption, as if the very walls themselves were rotting from within.

I tried to move my legs, but they felt like lead weights, unyielding to my will. It was as if my entire body had been paralyzed, a prisoner to the darkness that engulfed me. The questions raced through my mind, each one more pressing than the last. Where was I? How had I gotten here? Was I alone in this endless void?

The sound of dripping water echoed through the darkness, a metronome of terror that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. It was a sound that spoke of isolation and despair, of a life lived in eternal darkness. My clothes clung to my skin, damp and musty, like the shroud of death itself.

Fear took hold of me as I tried to make sense of the situation. Had I been kidnapped? Was this some sort of punishment for something I had done? The answers were nowhere to be found, and I was left with only my own thoughts to keep me company in the never-ending darkness.

The pain in my head throbbed with intensity, as if my very brain had been struck by a thousand bolts of lightning. I tried to jog my memories, but there was nothing, as if some malevolent force had ripped them from my mind. Tears streamed from my eyes, a testament to the agony that wracked my body.

Think positively, I told myself, a mantra to ward off the creeping tendrils of insanity. But the darkness was unrelenting, an endless void that seemed to swallow up every thought and feeling. It was as if I had been cast into the pit of hell itself, left to suffer in the eternal darkness.

The questions continued to gnaw at my mind, each one more pressing than the last. Who was I? Why had this darkness become my prison? Was there any hope of escape from this hellish existence?

The dripping water continued to echo through the darkness, a constant reminder of my isolation and despair. It was a sound that would haunt me for all eternity, a reminder of the darkness that had become my only companion.

Since being abandoned by my parents at a young age, I could never remember a name that was truly mine. What people called me was of little importance; my sole focus was on finding my next meal.

I was not entirely sure how old I was, somewhere between 14 and 16. My past was filled with wandering, like a rudderless boat adrift in a sea of uncertainty. My journey took me from one place to another, never having a moment of peace, my next meal always in doubt.

I recalled the other children who shared similar fates, mistreated and taken advantage of by adults. They were wandering souls, much like me. However, as I encountered them, I quickly recognized that our collective strength was greater than our individual struggles. With some persuasion, which included forcefully dethroning the previous leader, I succeeded in uniting them into a group. Together, we secured a place to call home, a far cry from the squalid conditions we had grown accustomed to, as I assumed the role of their leader.

I couldn't help but suspect that those bastards had already found someone to take my place, considering I was now trapped in this nightmarish situation.

Life was nice for a moment but my life took a turn for the worse when I encountered that man with a plain face and sharp eyes that didn't match. It was my last memory before I lost consciousness and woke up in darkness.

I lay there in the suffocating darkness, feeling the cold embrace me, the pain rushing in like a tidal wave. But I forced myself to think, to remember. That man from my last memory must be the reason why I was left alone in this abyss. I didn't know his name or identity. I didn't even know why he had locked me up like this. It couldn't be because of a grudge. There was no way that an orphan who was just wandering would be the target of resentment so deep that someone would do this.

My mind raced, searching for answers, for any shred of information that could help me make sense of my situation.

Don't tell me, I pissed off some insecure young master by talking to the ********** that has to pretend to enjoy doing it with him.

No, that was highly unlikely. There had to be some kind of purpose— a goal.

If my captor had aimed to kill me, they would have already done so. They wouldn't have gone through the trouble of locking me up without killing me. So, they must have some need or purpose for me. The thought that I might be sold into slavery filled me with dread. The darkness seemed to press down on me, suffocating me, as if the walls of my prison were closing in on me.

But I refused to give up, to succumb to the darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.

I closed my eyes, the darkness swallowing me whole. A deep breath filled my lungs as I tried to calm the racing thoughts that threatened to tear me apart. The inky blackness held me captive, offering no respite or escape from the torment that awaited me.

Time ceased to exist in this abyss, and I was left with nothing but my own mind to keep me company. The only relief from the suffocating darkness was the sound of my breaths echoing through the void. Each inhale brought with it a semblance of normalcy, a reminder that my body still functioned, despite the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume me.

As my thoughts raced like a stampede, I clung to the hope that I could remain sane. It was all I had left in this never-ending nightmare. A shred of sanity to cling to, in the midst of the overwhelming void that threatened to engulf me whole.

But the darkness was unyielding, a malevolent force that had claimed me as its own. It stripped me of my identity, leaving me with nothing but a jumbled mess of fragmented memories. Even my own name that was forged through mockery was lost in the depths of my mind.

Desperation clawed at my throat as I fought to keep my sanity intact. But the darkness only seemed to grow, devouring everything in its path, leaving nothing but the void in its wake.

I tried to focus on the present moment, to find solace in the sound of dripping water. But even that small comfort was fleeting, quickly swallowed by the never-ending abyss.

As the minutes turned to hours, I clung to the hope that I would find a way out of this hell. I repeated this mantra to myself, desperate to keep the madness at bay.

But the darkness only grew stronger, a force that refused to be conquered. Its tendrils reached deep into my mind, twisting and warping my thoughts until I was lost in a sea of confusion.

And yet, even in the depths of my despair, a small glimmer of hope remained. A stubborn light that refused to be extinguished, no matter how much the darkness tried to smother it.

With that flicker of hope burning within me, I fell into a deep sleep. It was a small respite from the nightmare that had consumed me, but it was enough to keep me going, to keep the light of hope burning bright in the darkness.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

In the depths of darkness, I found myself alone with my thoughts. The absence of light and sound left me with nothing but my memories, my identity, and my existential dread. I was but a nameless orphan, a nobody in the grand scheme of things. Even if I were to perish in this hellish place, no one would mourn my passing. The children I had gathered around me for protection would have long forgotten about me, replacing me with someone else. There was no loyalty among us, only fear and survival.

Time lost all meaning in this abyss. It could have been days or weeks since I was thrown into this abyss, and I had no way of telling. My body had shut down, leaving me paralyzed and barely holding onto life. Hunger and thirst were distant memories, replaced by the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that consumed me. If I was not closer to enlightenment, I was certainly closer to madness.

But then, a flicker of movement in my fingers. It was a small sign of life, proof that power was returning to my body. I couldn't see my expression in the darkness, but I knew that my face must have been contorted with a mix of joy and sadness. I was alive, but for what purpose? Was this the afterlife, or was I still trapped in some purgatory?

Slowly, sensation returned to my limbs, starting with my fingertips. I could smell the damp earth and mold around me, indicating that I was underground. But the location was of little importance. What mattered was that I was alive, that my body was functioning again.

With each passing moment, my organs came back to life, and the pain of hunger became overwhelming. I was dying, and I knew it. The realization hit me like a sledgehammer, and anger and hate consumed me. Why was I here? What had I done wrong to deserve this fate? The man who had locked me away was nothing but a cruel and heartless monster, treating me as if I were nothing more than a bug to be squashed.

I gritted my teeth, trying to fight back the feeling of despair that threatened to swallow me whole. The chains that bound my limbs prevented me from moving, but my thoughts were free to roam and fester. The stench of the damp earth and mold only added to my misery, as did the cold that seeped through my tattered clothes, biting at my skin.

Again and again, I asked myself what I had done to deserve this punishment. I knew I had done nothing wrong, yet I found myself trapped in this abyss, left to die like an animal. The man who had thrown me here had not given me any explanation or justification. He had treated me like a piece of garbage, something to be discarded and forgotten.

But I refused to give up. I bit my lip, feeling the flesh tear and the warm blood flow. The pain and the warmth of my blood reminded me that I was still alive, and that was enough to give me hope. I focused on my breathing, trying to calm my mind and clear my thoughts. I refused to let this monster break me, to take away my dignity and my will to survive.

In the darkness, I found strength. In the darkness, I found hope. And in the darkness, I swore that I would find a way to escape and make my tormentor pay for his crimes.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

The darkness that shrouded me was all-encompassing, like a thick, suffocating fog that seemed to press down on my chest and smother me with each passing moment. It was a claustrophobic abyss that threatened to swallow me whole, leaving me to fend for myself in a realm of shadows and whispers. The silence was deafening, and I was alone with my thoughts, my fears, and my hunger.

I could feel my body weakening with each passing second, my limbs growing numb and my senses dulling to a hazy blur. My fingers and toes were the only parts of me that seemed to retain any sense of sensation, a faint and desperate reminder that I was still alive. I could feel my stomach grumble with a ferocious hunger, a beast that refused to be tamed no matter how much I tried to ignore it. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper, and I could feel my tongue swelling within my mouth as I fought to swallow the bitter taste of despair.

But despite all of this, I held on to hope. It was a flickering light in the darkness, a glimmer of possibility that kept me from slipping into madness. I focused on the small things, the faint sensation of my fingers and toes, the dampness of the air, and the sound of water running down the wall. These were the things that kept me sane, the tenuous threads that held me together as I struggled to survive in this abyss of despair.

With a sense of determination that belied my weakened state, I forced my body to move. It was a slow and laborious process, my muscles weak and unresponsive, but I pushed on. Each movement was agony, a sharp and searing pain that threatened to overwhelm me with each passing moment. But I gritted my teeth and persevered, crawling inch by inch towards the sound of running water that promised relief from the relentless thirst that gnawed at my insides.

As I crawled, I could feel my body trembling with exertion, each breath a struggle as I fought to draw air into my burning lungs. The darkness seemed to press in on me with each passing moment, threatening to snuff out the flickering light of hope that kept me moving forward. But I refused to give up, refused to let the abyss claim me as its own.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of crawling, I reached the wall. I could feel my forehead and chin touching the damp floor, a cold and clammy sensation that sent shivers down my spine. I hit my forehead against the wall with a dull thud, the impact making me dizzy, but I didn't feel any pain. Instead, I focused on the sensation of the cool water that trickled down the wall, a lifeline in this sea of darkness and despair.

With a sense of desperation that bordered on madness, I stuck out my tongue and touched the wall, feeling the refreshing sensation of water against my parched lips. It was like a miracle, a gift from the heavens that quenched my thirst and provided me with a newfound strength. I drank the water desperately, lapping it up like a dog, savoring the taste of life in this realm of death.

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