The rain came down in relentless sheets, hammering against the windshield with a ferocity that blurred the city lights into smears of gold and red. Amir gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white, as his car weaved through the late-night traffic. The rhythmic thrum of the rain did little to drown out the chaos in his head.
Another day, another meaningless routine.
The corporate gala had been the same as always: stiff handshakes, empty pleasantries, and a cascade of hollow smiles. He'd worn his best suit, nodded at the right times, and laughed at the jokes that weren't funny—all part of the script. The applause had been for others; the achievements were theirs, not his.
He sighed deeply, his breath fogging the edges of the windshield. "This is it, isn't it? The life I worked so hard for?"
A hollow laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head. It wasn't dissatisfaction with his wealth or position—he had both in abundance. It was the absence of… something. A purpose. A connection.
His phone buzzed on the seat beside him, its screen lighting up with a familiar message from his mother:
"Don't forget Fajr tomorrow. Allah sees everything, son."
Amir let out a soft groan. He respected his mother's faith, but her constant reminders had always grated on him. Religion, for him, was a cultural inheritance, not a way of life. He'd prayed when it was convenient, fasted when expected, and uttered the occasional Insha'Allah when it seemed appropriate. Beyond that? It was just… there, a shadow in the background of his busy, materialistic life.
His gaze flicked to the clock on the dashboard. 11:47 PM. Late, but not too late. He had a long drive ahead, and the storm wasn't helping.
The rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, vibrating through the car. Amir squinted, his wipers struggling against the deluge. The glow of oncoming headlights suddenly cut through the rain, too close, too fast—
A horn blared.
"Damn it!" Amir jerked the wheel, his tires skidding as he narrowly avoided the speeding truck. The adrenaline surged through him, his heart hammering in his chest. He exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel as he tried to steady himself.
That's when he saw it.
A second truck, headlights blazing, barreling through the intersection.
Time seemed to slow. Amir's reflexes kicked in, but the rain-slicked road betrayed him. The tires lost their grip, and the car spun uncontrollably.
There was a deafening crash of metal against metal. Glass shattered, slicing through the air like shards of crystal rain. The world tilted, and then—
---
Silence.
When Amir opened his eyes, he wasn't in his car. He wasn't even sure he was alive.
The void stretched endlessly in every direction, an infinite expanse of darkness. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood as if anchored to an invisible plane.
"Where am I?" His voice echoed unnaturally, swallowed by the emptiness.
A flicker of light appeared in the distance, faint but radiant. It pulsed softly, growing brighter with each beat, until it cast a warm glow across the void.
As the light approached, Amir felt an inexplicable pull, like a moth drawn to a flame. The warmth wasn't physical—it resonated deep within him, as though it were peeling back layers of himself he hadn't even known existed.
"Amir," a voice intoned. It was deep and resonant, neither male nor female, and it echoed as if spoken from the very fabric of existence.
Amir stiffened. "Who… who's there?"
The light expanded, enveloping him in a cocoon of brilliance.
"You have strayed far from the path," the voice continued, its tone neither accusatory nor forgiving.
A shiver ran down Amir's spine. "I don't understand. What path? What do you want from me?"
"This is not the end," the voice replied. "You are being given another chance."
Before Amir could respond, the light surged forward, consuming him entirely. He felt weightless, as if he were falling through an endless chasm. Images flashed before his eyes—his childhood, his successes, his failures. The shallow prayers, the missed opportunities to connect, the emptiness he had carried.
And then, everything went dark.
---
Amir awoke with a start, gasping for air. His lungs burned as if he'd been underwater for hours. He sat up abruptly, his surroundings swimming into focus.
The first thing he noticed was the straw mat beneath him, rough against his palms. The second was the small, dimly lit room around him, its wooden walls uneven and worn. A single window let in a sliver of dawn's light, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.
His hands trembled as he brought them to his face. They were small—far too small. His reflection in a nearby basin of water confirmed his growing dread: he was a child.
"What the…?"
The door creaked open, and a man stepped in, carrying a basket of herbs. His face was weathered but kind, with eyes that spoke of wisdom earned through hardship.
"You're awake," the man said, relief evident in his tone. "Alhamdulillah. We were worried you wouldn't survive the night."
Amir stared at him, his mind racing. "Who… who are you?"
The man set the basket down and knelt beside him. "I am Hakim. My wife and I found you unconscious in the forest, just before the storm hit. You were injured but not beyond saving."
The forest? A storm? None of this made sense.
Amir tried to sit up further, but his body protested. Every muscle ached, as if he'd been running for miles. Hakim handed him a cup of water, his expression gentle. "Drink. You need to regain your strength."
Amir accepted the cup hesitantly, his mind spinning with questions. Where was he? Why was he a child? Was this some kind of dream?
And then it happened.
A soft chime echoed in his mind, followed by a translucent screen appearing before his eyes.
---
Noor System Activated.
Primary Domain: Noor (Light).
Secondary Domain: Zulmat (Darkness).
Welcome, Amir.
---
The cup slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor. The water spilled, but Amir barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the screen, the glowing text hovering in the air as if mocking him.
"What… what is this?"
Hakim frowned, his concern deepening. "Are you all right, child?"
Amir didn't answer. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling as panic clawed at his mind.
---
Tutorial Initiated.
Faith is the foundation of power. Align your actions with sincerity and purpose to grow stronger.
Objective: Assist Hakim in tending to the village fields.
Reward: Strength +1, Basic Skill: Shifa (Healing).
---
Amir stared at the screen, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. He had died. He had been given another chance. And now, this… Noor System?
Hakim placed a steadying hand on Amir's shoulder, pulling him back to reality. "You've been through a lot. Rest for now. We'll talk more when you're ready."
Amir nodded numbly, his mind reeling.
Whatever this was, whatever lay ahead, one thing was certain: this was no dream. His story wasn't over—it had just begun.