Surpassing Humanity

Imtiaz Ahmed didn't dare say it out loud but the man that entered the store was among the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. Tall yet not absurdly so and handsome in the face and smile. Turning was a V-shaped back and black hair that hung in waves, below the earlobes and nearly shoulder-length.

The sunglasses perched on him were a one-of-a-kind magic device that Imtiaz personally manufactured. Other than the Caliph, he had never had seen the shades go haywire.

And yet...

...as he attempted to scan the flow of mana within this stranger, a crack formed in the rim of his sunglasses. 'What!? How is this...?'

The handsome man turned back—and looked right at him. Imtiaz's breath hitched and he looked away. The left eye. He saw it. It was shining blue, zoning in on him as if he were an ant. Locking eyes, Imtiaz's smallest movements seemed consequential. As if his essence was being extracted.

Then the glorious male looked away, smiled at Manish, and sat down for a drink. Another crack formed in his sunglasses. The longer he looked, the less he comprehended.

This wasn't possible. It was impossible. This man was wearing Azrael's black garbs. A tutorial piece that all players sold at one point. That meant, that meant…!

'How is he generating that much mana!? It just keeps going and going and going…!'

Forget a new player, this was unheard of! Sorcerer's were monstrously efficient with mana, it came with the title. Supreme Sorcerers like Lady Frey were a league above efficient and were plain godly. This man was different. He stood there not with efficiency but with an origin of mana that did not stop.

Crack!

Stealing glances while drinking an empty glance, Imtiaz found it. The origin came from his left eye. That ball of blue that contrasted with the equally beautiful hazel in his right.

Beautiful. So beautiful.

'Where have I seen this?'

That hazel, that level of calm divinity…

'No…it's not possible—'

"A friend coming over?" Manish asked.

"Yep, it's Phillip. He has something to give me," the man with the dual-eyes explained.

"Phillip, yes, yes. He comes over more often than you do now, Kazi."

Manish played it off as a joke and he laughed. The man known as Kazi laughed.

Kazi.

Imtiaz's hands trembled. His eyes widened.

Kazi.

Kazi H—?

'This can't be. No way.'

But it could.

Time did not operate on the same wavelength across realms. The two years between from one Heavenly Game to another consisted of approximately twenty years on Earth. Imtiaz…Imtiaz was terrified. He should have known right when he saw him. He should have known when he saw the impossible aura around him.

There was only man on Earth with gifts that surpassed humanity—Kazi Hossain.

He remembered the day he first laid eyes on him. He remembered the day he left Mohanganj Upazila, the heart of lower Bangladesh, to search for a servant.

The day Imtiaz arrived, the poorest of the poorest pointed him to a single household—to the Hossains. Imtiaz opened the door, peered down at the little boy, made two seconds of eye contact with his beautiful hazel eyes, and heard, "Assalaikum alaikum. You are the one from the Hasina family, yes?"

Years ago, he met a boy in a small house in a region belonging to the poor and the forgotten. Names were forgotten. Death carried the rivers. Yet when he heard his voice, Imtiaz knew he did not belong here. He knew he had to take him away.

Imtiaz tried to be his teacher and take him under his wing. He thought Kazi was like him, a faster learner limited by his surroundings. He was wrong. Very wrong. Kazi was nothing like him. He was far, far worse.

Imtiaz remembered dying in an unnamed alleyway, tasting his own blood and being forced to stare into the bare feet of a child. His life had ended miserably and without anyone knowing what truly caused it—who caused it.

These past years in the White Abyss, Imtiaz tried to forget. He tried to move on. He disregarded the short-term Heavenly Games and threw himself into the endless, ever evolving study of magic circles. He received his Wizardry Degree and Sorcery Degree in four years instead of seven. In every class, in every exam, he was the top student of his grade. He impressed Lady Frey and the Caliph and so many others. He tried to forget and move on and he failed.

In the back of his mind, he would always remember that he was outsmarted and killed by a boy a quarter his age. He was no genius. Imtiaz refused to accept that title when he existed.

And now…he was here. Kazi Hossain was back.