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Chapter 386 A Strong Faith
Ali's office was a sanctuary of precision and order. Schematics lined the walls, pinned to corkboards with color-coded markers. Prototype components sat in labeled trays on a long workbench. The computer monitors displayed complex 3D models rotating in slow, silent simulation. Everything was exactly where it belonged, organized and controlled.Everything except Ali's mind.He sat in his chair, staring at the ceiling, the third cup of cold coffee untouched on his desk. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkled with the million lights of late night—or early morning, depending on perspective. He had lost track hours ago. The digital clock on his monitor read 3:47 AM.Marwan's words echoed in his skull like stones dropped into a deep well, the ripples spreading endlessly."You're building crutches. You're building suits so powerful, so automated, that the person inside stops being the fighter.""Whose hands do these suits end up in? Eventually, one of them will end up with s
Chapter 385 The Elephant In The Room
The training yard at the headquarters was bathed in the harsh glare of overhead floodlights as Ali put his brothers through their paces. Sami and Samir moved through the drills with slightly better coordination than the week before—still clumsy, still prone to telegraphing their strikes, but improving. Ali corrected them with his usual precise efficiency, his voice a steady stream of instructions and adjustments.Between sets, while his brothers collapsed onto benches to catch their breath, Ali pulled out his phone and dialed Marwan's number. It rang through to voicemail. He frowned, waited a few minutes, and tried again. Same result."What's wrong?" Sami asked, noticing his brother's expression.Ali pocketed the phone. "I've been trying to reach Marwan for days. He's not answering my calls, not responding to messages. It's unlike him."Samir shrugged, still breathing heavily. "He was here yesterday. Training the new recruits. Seemed normal to me.""Yesterday?" Ali's frown deepened. "
Chapter 384 The Young Teacher
The morning sun was still low over the eastern ridge, casting long amber fingers through the chain-link fence surrounding the base's secondary training yard. Laith stood at the edge of the worn concrete, arms crossed, watching his four remaining students cycle through their drills. Three of them: Yazeed, Qasim, and Tamir had finally begun to move not as soldiers mimicking foreign movements, but as warriors who had absorbed those movements into their own flesh and blood.The fourth, a quiet marksman named Rafiq, was still struggling. Laith made a mental note to work with him individually later. But today, his attention was captured by Yazeed.Yazeed was a lithe, whipcord-thin young man from the southern desert tribes. For weeks, he had frustrated Laith with his tendency to turn every technique into something overly elaborate, adding flourishes and spins that compromised efficiency. But something had clicked in the past three days. His movements had tightened, the extraneous motion stri
Chapter 383 Three Brothers
The training yard behind the Knights' headquarters was quiet in the late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows across the worn mats and training dummies. Ali stood with his arms crossed, watching his two younger brothers run through a basic disarming drill for the seventh time. Samir's footwork was sloppy, and Sami kept telegraphing his strikes by tensing his shoulders a full second before moving."No, no, stop," Ali called out, his voice carrying that particular tone of exhausted resignation that had become his default when dealing with them. He stepped forward, separating the two panting youths. "Sami, you might as well send the Ghoul a formal invitation to your attack. Your shoulders are screaming 'I'm about to hit you' from across the room. And Samir, your stance is so wide I could drive a truck through it. You're not trying to wrestle a bear; you're trying to maintain mobility.""But Marwan said a wide stance gives better stability," Samir protested, wiping sweat from his foreh
Chapter 382 A Long War
The air in the professor's study was thick with the scent of old paper, dust, and the sharp, clean aroma of ozone from multiple humming computer towers. Professor Elias Nazzal, a historian and linguist whose name was whispered with reverence in academic circles and suspicion in others, pushed his spectacles up his nose, his finger tracing a line on a yellowed parchment laid out under the glow of a magnifying lamp."This," he said, his voice a low, urgent rumble, "is not just a political land grab, Hazim. It is a ritual."Hazim leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the intricate, angular script that was definitively not Arabic, nor any human language. It was Ghoul script, transcribed from fragments found in raids over the years. The parchment was part of a much larger, pieced-together translation Nazzal had been working on for a decade."They—the government of UFN, or rather, the Ghouls within it, are not just building an administrative complex where the Grand Mosque stands," Nazzal
Chapter 381 The Silence Of The Night
Ali took Sami to a doctor and luckily his little brother was in perfect shape. No Ghoul-tainted cuts, no internal injuries from the suplex or the subsequent terror. Ali, who had stood silently by during the examination, his face etched with deep fatigue, felt a knot in his chest loosen infinitesimally.“He is fine. Just needs rest, and perhaps a long talk about workplace safety,” the doctor had said with a knowing, but careful, smile.Now, Ali drove them back to the main Knights’ headquarters, the silence in the car a complex tapestry. It wasn’t the angry silence from before, nor the usual dismissive quiet. It was a heavy, processing silence. Sami stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, his knuckles white where they gripped his knees. The adrenaline had fully receded, leaving behind a hollow, trembling awareness of what he had done, and what had almost happened.When they entered the common area of the HQ, they found Samir alone, hunched on a worn sofa, staring blan
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