For days, the world had been celebrating.
People filled the streets, hugging, crying, laughing—living.
They kissed the ground, looked up to the sky, and thanked whatever power had brought them back.
It had been over a month since they vanished.
One moment, they were alive. The next, they were gone.
Then, one morning, they returned.
No memory. No explanation. Just life again.
And while joy filled every home, a question began to rise louder every day—Who saved us? How did we come back? Where were we all this time?
Far away, in a coastal city surveillance office, a technician restoring old systems recovered a strange video from an inactive bridge camera.
It was dated April 22. She pressed play—and froze. Get the director. Now.
The footage was sent to national media, and within hours, it was everywhere. The world watched together.
On screen, Mirshad walked slowly across a bridge. No mask. No protection. His face was tired, calm.
Ahead of him sat David, surrounded by his last men. He laughed, mocked, and struck Mirshad repeatedly. Mirshad never reacted—until he did.
In seconds, David was dead. The others silenced. Then the world saw it—a figure floating over the sea, covered in swirling darkness, billions of souls trapped around it. The Soul Slayer.
Mirshad turned, walked to the edge of the bridge, stared at the ocean, and without a single word—he jumped.
The footage held for nearly an hour. Then a bolt of lightning cracked from the heavens, striking the water.
A wave of silver light erupted beneath the sea, the screen shaking from its force.
Moments later, a beam descended from the sky—a sword, the Soul Reaver.
It tore into the water like judgment. The ocean lit up, the skies thundered, and then the unimaginable happened.
Billions of soul-lights burst from beneath the surface. The sea exploded in light. The Soul Slayer—seen only for a moment—was torn apart, its mist scattering like ash. The screen went white. Then black.
The world reacted in silence and awe. They had always believed in him, but now they understood him.
He wasn't just their savior in war. He wasn't just the man who gave them homes, hospitals, food, and protection.
He was the one who walked into the sea alone to fight death itself, to bring back every last soul—and he hadn't returned.
Across the world, cities fell silent. People cried openly. Children held photos of him. Families whispered prayers with his name.
Temples, mosques, churches filled again, but this time, they weren't praying to gods—they were praying for the one who saved them. He brought us back. And he never came home.
Back in the palace, the entire family watched the footage.
Rayyan stood frozen, Malik trembled, Amir and Jabir sat in silence. Maa held onto Papa, her eyes red. Uncles and aunties wiped tears. Cousins, staff, squad members—all watched, all still.
Baba's head was lowered. Sara held Sophia's hand. And Sophia… rested her hand on her belly, whispering to the life within her, Your father saved the world. And still, he hasn't come back.
In homes across the planet, people placed candles beside his photo. Some carved his name into stone. Others held quiet vigils, standing under the stars.
In the palace dining hall, the food remained untouched, the doors stayed open, and every chair was filled—except one. They waited. Still. For the man who saved the world.