Part 16

Usuf—the warrior in flesh—stood facing his enemies. His broad shoulders, mighty chest, and powerful arms trembled with rage. His handsome face was set with the hardness of thunder—his sharp jaw locked tight, and his deep dark eyes remained calm.

The enemies circled him, each face twisted with malice, each eye drunk on fury. Veins bulged across their foreheads, teeth ground against each other. But Usuf did not fear. In his heart burned the courage of a lion.

Without a word—his lips pressed tightly shut—he moved with lightning speed. One kick to the stomach of one enemy, one punch like thunder to the belly of another. The first man flew back, crashing against the wall, while the second rolled across the ground from the crushing blow.

And with that, a terrible and bloody fight began. The air filled with war-cries, the clash of steel, and the roars of men. The ground shook beneath their trampling feet.

On one side, three vicious attackers lunged at Salih—the once-beautiful, gentle-faced youth whose eyes now reflected fear and suffering. His hair was a mess, his clothes torn apart…

And the rest—at least six of them—attacked Usuf all at once. But Usuf fought alone against them all. Even though he was struck and wounded—blood running across his handsome face, his lips split—he kept hitting back. Every punch was like thunder, every kick like a storm.

In only a short time, at least four of them lay on the ground, broken by Usuf’s blows—noses shattered, eyes swollen black, ribs cracked. They groaned in pain, writhing on the floor.

In the middle of this bloody, heart-stirring battle, a voice suddenly rang out from behind—loud, urgent, full of authority:

“Stop fighting! The leader is calling for you. The map of Jhathar Forest has been found. We must go to the Balan dynasty’s museum at once.”

At those words, it was as if lightning struck them all awake. The fight ended at once—the frenzy of battle cut short. They lifted their wounded on their shoulders, dragging their bloodied comrades, and hurried away. Their heavy footsteps soon faded into the distance.

Usuf—his face still streaked with blood, but his eyes unbroken in resolve—slowly walked towards Salih. With his great, powerful hand he gently lifted Salih onto his shoulder. Salih’s battered body leaned against his strength.

Salih—his once-handsome face twisted in pain, his eyes brimming with tears of suffering—spoke in a trembling voice, his breath laboured:

“Jhathar Forest? Wasn’t the old man speaking about a treasure hidden there?”

Usuf gave a slow nod, his eyes carrying a secret light. His lips remained sealed, but in his gaze burned a fire.

Then, carefully balancing his injured friend on his shoulder, step by step so that Salih would not be hurt further, Usuf left the place. Their shadows melted into the alley. Their destination: Roham Palace.

Usuf walked through the winding streets of Joremir, Salih on his shoulder. In the distance, the sunlight had turned red, and along the edge of the sky, dark clouds gathered—like smoke from some unseen fire.

The townsfolk were still busy gossiping about the fight at the hotel, but Usuf’s eyes were fixed on the faraway mountains.

Salih whispered through his pain,
“If the treasure is real… will we take it?”

At this, a strange smile touched Usuf’s lips. In his eyes glimmered the rumble of storm-clouds, and a spark of dangerous curiosity.

The air carried the smell of coming rain, shadows danced along the alley walls, and far across the sky it was as if invisible drums were beating out a call to war.

Standing in the street, Usuf paused—suddenly he felt as though unseen eyes were watching them. Eyes full of hunger, anger, and the shadow of ancient revenge.

They climbed into a horse-drawn carriage and set off towards the palace.

The very name Jhathar Forest lit flames of greed and excitement in the eyes of those who heard it. That legendary forest—said to hide unending riches! Yet no one truly knew its secrets, no one knew what waited inside.

Beyond the distant Aran Plateau lay Jhathar Forest. And deep in its heart, within the darkness, something ancient lay asleep—something so fearsome that even the elders of the Balan dynasty dared not speak its name.

Jhathar Forest was waiting—
its trees guarding whispers of centuries,
its soil soaked with the blood of both hunter and hunted,
its air humming with an eternal oath.

That mysterious forest—where unknown danger and limitless treasure waited side by side. Whoever entered its depths… would never return the same.