The headquarters, still echoing with the solitary sounds of one man's dedication, felt different as Marwan pushed open the heavy door. The dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun, but they were no longer drifting in empty space. A figure stood in the center of the waiting hall, silhouetted against the light from a high window.It was a boy. Tall for his age, with a lanky frame that suggested a recent, rapid growth spurt, putting him somewhere between fourteen and sixteen. He stood with a tense, unnatural stiffness, his hands clenched at his sides. As Marwan approached, the boy turned. His face was young, but his eyes held a gravity that belonged to someone much older."Can I help you?" Marwan asked, his voice echoing in the vast space.The boy swallowed, then straightened his back even further. "I am here to join the Knights of Askalan. I wish to train."Marwan stopped a few paces away, assessing him. The request was so earnest, so starkly out of place in the grim reality of the

The air in Ali’s new apartment-turned-workshop was thick with the acrid scent of fear and failure, a stark contrast to the smell of solder and ambition that usually filled the space. Ali paced like a caged animal, his hands clenching and unclenching. Fadi was hunched over a terminal, his face pale in the glow of multiple screens. Haneen stood by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, a silent statue of worry.The door burst open, and Hazim and Laith entered, their arrival like a sudden, focused gust of wind. They didn't need to ask questions; Ali’s frantic call had painted the scene in stark, urgent colors."They took him," Ali said, the words raw. "I asked the Professor to come help me move the last of the heavy equipment from here to the new warehouse. We were loading the van, right out front. A black sedan. It just appeared. Two men jumped out, they were fast… too fast. They grabbed him, threw him in the back. I tried… I ran after them, I even threw a wrench at the re

The air in the small apartment was thick with the scent of anticipation and fresh laundry. A half-packed duffel bag lay open on Laith’s bed, surrounded by neatly folded training gear, a Korean phrasebook, and a collection of well-worn martial arts manuals. Laith hummed a tuneless melody as he meticulously checked and re-checked his list, the thrill of the impending journey to Seoul a constant buzz under his skin. This was it. Training at the source. Meeting the legendary Master Kim. Finally stepping out of his brothers’ long shadows and into a forge of his own choosing.The front door opened and closed. Hazim’s familiar, solid footsteps echoed in the hallway. Laith bounded out of his room, his face alight with excitement. “Did you get it?”Hazim stood in the living room, looking slightly weary but with a softness around his eyes. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thick, plain white envelope. He held it out to Laith

The dawn in Seoul was a cold, grey affair, seeping into their sparse storage room through a single, high window. They woke to the distant sounds of a city already in motion, their bodies aching from the hard floor and the weight of disappointment. Without a word, they performed their wudu with bottled water in the tiny, icy bathroom, then laid out their prayer mats in a row on the dusty floor. The familiar, silent ritual of Fajr prayer in this strange, unwelcoming place was a small anchor, a piece of home they carried within them.After prayers, fueled by a mix of determination and a desperate need to prove their worth, they began their own warm-up. The main training hall, which they hadn't even properly seen the night before, was vast, empty, and freezing. Their breaths came out in plumes of white vapor as they started to run laps around the perimeter, the sound of their footfalls echoing in the hollow space. They moved through a rigorous regimen of dynamic stretches, push-ups, sit-u

The bus ride from Seoul’s dense urban sprawl into the rugged, forested spine of South Korea was a journey from one world into another. The neon signs and skyscrapers dwindled, replaced by snow-dusted peaks, deep green valleys, and clusters of traditional tile-roofed houses clinging to steep hillsides. The air, when they finally disembarked in the remote village, was so clean and cold it felt like a physical shock, scented with pine smoke and damp earth. The frantic, humiliated energy of the city dojang was left behind, replaced by a quiet, focused anticipation.The village was small, a single main road lined with a few shops, winding upwards into terraced fields and dense woodland. They stood with their duffel bags, looking lost once more, but this time with a specific destination in mind. Approaching an older woman sweeping the steps of a small grocery, Ali used his translation app. “Excuse me. Jun Park? House?”The woman looked at the three foreigners, her expression curious but no