“I get it, I get it.”
Raising his hands in surrender, the old man lifted his chin toward Malik and Safira, signaling her to move on.
She did, striding back toward them, smug.
“You’re welcome.”
Malik raised an eyebrow.
“For what?”
“For being better at this than you.”
“It’s not my fault my eyes spook them out.”
“Then close them while talking!”
He opened his mouth to argue further, but Safira grabbed his arm.
“Shut up, both of you. We’ve got bigger problems.”
She pointed across the market to where Ali Baba stood in front of a massive man, deep in conversation.
The guy was built like a fortress, with arms thicker than Malik’s thighs.
Judging by the thick gold rings on his fingers, he wasn’t just some merchant.
“Who’s that?”
Malik muttered.
“That,” Safira whispered, “is Balthazar the Weigher.”
He whistled low.
“Shit.”
Balthazar wasn’t just a merchant—he was a king of the eastern part of the south trade routes.
The man didn’t carry scales because he weighed things himself. If he so much as eyed a pile of goods and named a price, people trusted it.
If Ali Baba was dealing with him, it meant serious business. Life changing.
They got closer, listening in.
“…Fifty crates.”
Ali Baba repeated.
“You know we can move that much, and you know we’re good for it.”
Balthazar stroked his thick, graying beard.
“I know you were good for it. But times change. Merchants fall. How do I know your caravan still has the weight it once did?”
Ali Baba didn’t flinch.
“Because I raised my children well.”
Balthazar’s dark eyes flicked to Malik, Layla, Safira, and Jasmine.
He studied them like a butcher sizing up cuts of meat.
“Show me.”
Ali Baba grinned and nodded his head.
“Gladly.”
Balthazar matched his grin.
“A test, then.”
His voice rang through the market, and the world around them shifted.
The merchants, the buyers, the beggars, the pickpockets—all of them turned, watching.
A duel in the bazaar was no small thing.
Malik stepped forward, rolling his shoulders.
“Name it.”
Balthazar chuckled, waving a hand.
One of his men—a hulking brute covered in scars—stepped into the clearing.
“You win; your father gets his deal.”
Malik cracked his knuckles.
“And if I lose?”
“Then you owe me your weight in gold.”
Malik scoffed.
“You’re gonna need a smaller scale.”
Laughter rippled through the market… though the brute didn’t laugh.
This was life or death for him. He could not make his boss lose face.
“Begin.”
Malik was already moving. Fast.
Big man didn’t waste a second—came in swinging, a wide, heavy punch meant to take his head off.
Malik ducked, twisting just in time.
The fist whooshed past, close enough to feel the air shift.
No break. Big man followed up, stepping in with a mean left hook.
Malik swayed back, boots skidding on the sand.
He caught a glimpse of the man’s grin—like he thought he had him.
No.
Malik snapped forward, feinting right before slipping left.
A sharp jab to the ribs. Not hard, but quick. A reminder—I’m here.
Big man grunted, swung again. Wild.
Malik dipped under, barely missing a shoulder check.
Close. Too close.
He hopped back, resetting.
The man was strong, no doubt. But Malik?
He was faster.
As they fought, the crowd cheered.
This duel had the whole damn bazaar hooked.
People yelled over each other, copper flashing as bets flew between hands.
“Ten on the big guy!”
“Ha! Make it twenty on the kid, he’s quick!”
“Malik, don’t embarrass us!”
That was Layla, leaning against a cart, arms crossed, smirking.
“Break his nose!”
Safira called out, ever the supportive student.
“Or at least don’t get yours broken…”
Jasmine added, shaking her head but smiling all the same.
Traders, beggars, travelers—they all crowded in, clapping, whistling, hooting every time Malik dodged another hit.
Someone smacked another man on the back, laughing.
“Look at him dance! He’s makin’ your boy look slow as a damn steed in mud, Balthazar!”
Balthazar just huffed, watching with narrowed eyes, arms crossed.
Then came Sinbad, weaving through the crowd with Huda on his heels, both wide-eyed.
“What the Hell is going on?”
Sinbad blurted, staring at the fight.
“Big Brother’s either winning us a deal or losing us a fortune.”
Huda muttered, tilting her head.
“…Yeah, okay.”
Sinbad nodded, then cupped his hands and hollered:
“Kick his ass, big brother!”
Malik weaved in, snapping a quick jab to the man’s ribs before slipping away.
The brute grunted but didn’t go down.
He lunged, hands grasping.
Malik sidestepped, hooked his foot behind the guy’s knee, and sent him stumbling forward.
“Too slow.”
The brute growled and rushed him again.
This time, Malik didn’t dance away.
He met the charge.
The moment the brute swung, Malik dropped low, bracing his legs—then with a roar, he heaved the man off his feet.
A mountain of muscle lifted into the air for a brief, weightless second—before slamming into the ground with enough force to rattle the nearby stalls.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Silence.
Then—cheers.
“By God, he flipped him!”
“He’s a damn beast!”
“Should’ve bet more—DAMN IT!”
A roar of laughter exploded through the market.
Layla whistled low, shaking her head.
“Alright, that was pretty damn cool.”
Safira had both hands on her head, eyes wide.
“Did you just throw that man?!”
Jasmine showed a proud smirk.
“Well, at least he didn’t break anything this time.”
Huda nudged Sinbad.
“Big brother is kinda terrifying.”
Sinbad just grinned.
“Yeah. Ain’t it great?”
Malik stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow.
The brute groaned but didn’t get up, letting his buddies drag him away.
Balthazar let out a booming laugh.
“Ahahahaha! Ali Baba, you raised a damn lion!”
Ali Baba grinned.
“I told you.”
The deal was sealed.
They won.
Malik smiled at that…
But then he felt it.
A whisper of air behind him.
The prickle of instinct, too late.
A dagger sank into his back.
Malik staggered, breath hitching.
His knees buckled. He turned—
‘W-What?’
—And saw himself.
His own face staring back.
His own golden eyes, empty and cold.
His own hand twisting the dagger deeper.
“Wake Up.”
No.
The illusion shattered.
The market faded, the people vanished, the colors bled into darkness.
It wasn’t real.
None of it was real.
And as Malik gasped for air that didn’t exist, he remembered the contradictions.
He remembered the dream.
Ali Baba was still alive.
Layla no longer hated him.
She wasn’t a drunkard.
Safira had remained with him.
He wasn’t forced to leave her.
Abandon her.
Jasmine wasn’t corrupted.
She stayed alive.
Huda wasn’t taken from him.
Sinbad… Sinbad wasn’t killed.
It was a world where his three complacencies never happened.
A world that never was.
Malik opened his eyes.
He was met with floating dunes.