Chapter 18: The Golden Mask

Adi and Al Mussad spent days in the library, their fingers tracing the spines of ancient books, their eyes scanning dusty scrolls. They piled books, their search for information about the Ashari relentless. They delved into history, seeking traces of the Ashari, any related topics that might shed light on their origins, their motives, their goals.

One thing bothered them, a nagging question that lingered in the back of their minds.

"The war between the Ashari and the Niziari was way back 200 years ago," Al Mussad said, his voice a low rumble, his brow furrowed.

He read aloud from a tattered scroll, the words fading with age. The story unfolded, a tale of two secret societies, their paths colliding in a clash of ideologies. The Niziari, established for centuries, dedicated to protecting the weak, upholding justice, and ensuring balance. The Ashari, a new force, rising from the shadows, using tricks and religious cults to gather followers. They had no specific goal, no grand plan, only a desire to create chaos, to sow discord, to control.

But there was one constant, a recurring theme that ran through the history of the Ashari and the Niziari. A masked man, always present, always leading, always a force to be reckoned with.

"It is said in the history that a man with a golden mask is the leader," Al Mussad continued, his voice filled with a sense of awe and dread. "And no Niziari who has faced him has ever lived to tell the tale."

"The more we search for his origin, the more confusing it becomes," Adi said, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and intrigue.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, a man not older than forty, his eyes wide with surprise. It was late, past midnight, and the library was usually deserted at this hour.

"What are you both doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "It's past midnight."

His eyes fell on Al Mussad, his gaze lingering on the musket strapped to his back. "Is that a weapon made from the West?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity. "I heard it's called a musket. It can create a big sound and throw projectiles at a very fast speed."

Al Mussad, a smug smile playing on his lips, nodded. "Yes! Well, I took it from the Ashari's cave. I wanted it as a remembrance."

The man, his eyes gleaming with interest, asked, "Can I check it?"

Al Mussad, his shoulders relaxed, his expression open, agreed. The man reached out, his hand extended, his fingers brushing against the musket. He opened his hand, revealing a necklace, a symbol of authority, a symbol of power. It was the symbol of the Supreme Master.

Adi and Al Mussad, their eyes widening in surprise, bowed their heads in respect.

"No worries," the Supreme Master said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes filled with a sense of calm authority. "Just make sure you return it to the armory after your research."

Adi and Al Mussad, their hearts pounding with a mixture of awe and anticipation, watched as the Supreme Master disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone in the library, their minds filled with questions, their quest for knowledge just beginning.

The next morning, Adi and Al Mussad made their way to the armory. They were met by a burly man, his face etched with surprise, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"You're back early," he said, his voice a low rumble. "What brings you here?"

Adi and Al Mussad exchanged a glance, their faces a mixture of amusement and apprehension.

"We're here to return this," Al Mussad said, his voice a low growl, his hand reaching for the musket strapped to his back.

As he unstrapped the musket, they both noticed a familiar figure standing in the shadows, his face obscured by the dim light. It was the Supreme Master. Adi and Al Mussad, their hearts pounding with a mixture of awe and respect, bowed their heads in deference.

"No need to bow," the Supreme Master said, his voice a low rumble, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "I've been waiting for you."

Al Mussad, his brow furrowed, his voice laced with a hint of confusion, asked, "Sir, why do I need to return this musket? This is mine. I took it."

The Supreme Master chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed through the armory. "Hah! Because I was planning on getting it."

Al Mussad's face crumbled, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Don't worry about it," the Supreme Master said, his voice laced with a hint of reassurance. "I will just replicate it and give it back."

He reached out, his hand extended, his fingers brushing against the musket. He took the weapon, his movements fluid, his touch precise. He began to disassemble the musket, his fingers moving with a speed and accuracy that defied belief.

Adi and Al Mussad watched in awe, their jaws dropping, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had never seen anyone handle a weapon with such skill, such precision, such ease.

The Supreme Master, noticing their expressions, chuckled. "Oh, I forgot to tell you my name," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm Hadid. I'm the 46th Supreme Master of Niziari. I'm a Developer strand. That's the reason I'm good with these hands."

Adi and Al Mussad, their jaws still dropping, their minds reeling, could only nod in agreement.

"You're a Developer, right?" Adi asked, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "Can you improve it?"

Hadid, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement, shook his head. "I don't know yet," he said. "We need to know how they do it first. After understanding the mechanism, then we can make improvements."

He paused, his eyes fixed on Adi. "Why, Adi? Do you want to use a musket too?"

Adi shook his head. "No," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "I want something smaller, something easier to move."

Hadid, his eyes gleaming with a hint of challenge, smiled. "Then will you help me develop the thing you want?"

Adi, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, looked at Hadid, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and determination. "Can I?" he asked, his voice filled with a sense of wonder. "Will you let me?"

Hadid, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement, chuckled. "In developing something, there are no ranks, only results," he said, his voice a low rumble. "How about we meet here every evening and develop your desired weapon?"

Adi, his face beaming, nodded. He was ready to learn, to grow, to create. He was ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. He was a Niziari now, a part of something bigger than himself, his destiny intertwined with the fate of the world. The journey had just begun.