Chapter 10: Cutting Ties with Mutakamel
20th May, 2026
A few days before the squad went to the wedding.
After the destruction inside his house, Mutafakir dropped himself onto his bed.
"Damn… I don't even know what happened, but I just fought a muscular rat my size… that thing almost killed me!"
The injuries on Mutafakir's face were still visible, though they looked much better than before.
He glanced down at his injured fist after punching the rat's steel-like head.
(So… as far as I learned from Mutakamel, killing a Disposition user should make any injuries caused by them disappear…)
(But after killing that thing, my injuries are still here… though they definitely got better. So… does that mean Mutakamel was wrong?)
Mutafakir slowly got up from the bed, placing his hands on his hips.
(But I highly doubt that… why would he say something he wasn't sure of?)
(So my conclusion is… the thing I killed was more like a puppet. Something sent by someone much stronger…)
(Aside from that… that was way too close. If I hadn't predicted its attacks… I would've been demolished.)
Mutafakir sat back down and grabbed his old smartphone.
He opened social media and started scrolling for a bit.
"Huh… what's this?"
He came across a post saying:
"Mi'an Khraba's wedding is only a few days away! Why not come share some good moments with us? Everyone's invited to Cairo!"
There was also a picture of the location attached.
"Uh… well."
"The dude who wrote this post should stay away from writing forever."
"But honestly… why not? I should probably go out more often instead of staying home studying like a slave."
"But damn… Al Qantara to Cairo is a long trip."
He leaned against the window and looked outside.
"So…"
"This trip better be worth it… or is it?"
Right as he spoke, his phone suddenly began ringing.
"Oh well. Getting famous now, am I?"
Mutafakir looked at the screen.
No number was displayed.
A slight feeling of unease crept into him.
Still, he answered the call.
"Mutafakir."
A cold, deep voice spoke from the other side.
"Don't go to that wedding."
Mutafakir swallowed nervously.
"W-why is that…?"
"These people… they're my enemies."
"And your enemies."
"M-Mutakamel…?"
"I need no further introduction."
"And you heard me. Do not go to that wedding."
"You just said they're your enemies, and suddenly they're mine too? I don't even know these people!"
"Let me refresh your memory, Mutafakir."
"Do you remember when you broke into that place to bring me that blue powder?"
"So…?"
"You earned yourself a terrible reputation with them because of that."
"First of all, Mr. Mutakamel, I was disguised. Nobody recognized me."
"Second of all, these people are your enemies. You're forcing them to become mine for no reason."
"Matter of fact, I think they're the good guys… and you're the bad one."
"And one last thing—"
"Shut the hell up, you ungrateful pest."
Mutakamel's voice suddenly rose in anger.
"Who do you think gave you the powers you're using right now?!"
"Who do you think gave you the money to buy that shithole you're living in?!"
Mutakamel briefly lost his composure.
He opened his mouth to continue—
But the book resting before him suddenly wrote a sentence on its own, warning him not to reveal anything else about himself.
Mutakamel narrowed his eyes.
"But fine."
"You can side with them if you want."
"But remember one thing…"
"It'll be hell on earth for you and your pathetic little team from now on."
"Know your place, insect."
Mutakamel slammed the phone onto his desk, ending the call immediately.
Clink!
"Now listen here, you—!"
Mutafakir stopped mid-sentence.
Something felt wrong with the phone against his ear.
It suddenly became dark, squishy… almost ticklish.
"!!!"
Mutafakir instantly threw the phone onto the floor.
The moment it hit the ground, a large, sharp, badly drawn arrow burst out from inside the phone and stabbed through the air.
After missing its target, both the arrow and the phone melted into a black liquid before dissolving into nothingness.
(Holy shit! This crazy bastard is already trying to kill me!)
Mutafakir stared at the floor where the phone had vanished.
His heart pounded violently in his chest.
Sweat still dripped down his face from the interaction.
(Such a weird Disposition… I can't even tell what it can or can't do.)
(I seriously need to be careful from now on… this guy isn't the type to make empty threats.)
(But seriously… who the hell does he think he is to "bestow" anything upon me?)
(I only did what he wanted because I needed money to survive.)
Mutafakir finally muttered out loud.
"Today marks the day I cut ties with Mutakamel."
He looked around the apartment.
Then realization suddenly struck him.
"This wedding trip isn't just some trip anymore…"
"I actually need to pack up and leave."
"I can't risk staying here another night."
Mutafakir looked down at his bandaged palm and knuckles.
"I need to move. Now."
He quickly pulled out a luggage bag and stuffed only the essentials inside:
clothes, personal belongings, and most importantly—
The leftover money Mutakamel had given him.
Thirty minutes later, he finished packing and left the apartment.
Before fully walking away, Mutafakir turned back one last time.
The sun shined brightly over the old apartment building, making the view strangely nostalgic.
It wasn't much.
Just a simple apartment he had only recently bought.
"I'm definitely gonna miss this place…"
"Let's just hope I can work something out with these so-called 'enemies.'"
Mutafakir waved down a Tuk Tuk.
Once it stopped in front of him, he placed the luggage roughly onto the passenger seat.
"Al Qantara bus station."
(Damn… he destroyed my phone thinking I wouldn't make it to that wedding.)
(But he's mistaken.)
(I know that place better than anybody.)
⸻
Meanwhile…
Mutakamel stood beside his desk after slamming the phone down.
Clink.
He slowly walked toward the window, placing both hands behind his back.
"You know, Asma… this might sound strange, but I actually respect that guy."
Mutakamel stayed quiet for a moment.
Thinking carefully.
"Because he has a will of his own."
"He proved himself worthy of respect the moment he chose his own destiny."
Mutakamel's expression darkened.
"But that still won't save him from what happens when I catch up to him…"
"And his pathetic little team."
Then a dark, badly drawn arrow extends from Mutakamel's back like a tentacle, reaching out for a specific thing in his generous bookshelf.
Until.. the uncanny tentacle pulls out a piece of old, almost yellowed paper that is a bit torn at the edges.
The paper displayed "Foul play's services, call us now if you want to.. "settle accounts" with something, or someone."
And there was a number below the writing.
Another tentacle extends from his back to reach out to the phone on his desk, a third tentacle writing down the number by spinning the wheel.
Tooooot…
Tooot..
Someone on the other side picks up the phone, and was an almost excited tone.
"Here at foul play, we're sure to get that specific weight off your shoulders. How can we help, kind sir?"
A man on the other side of the phone spoke, his appearance wasn't really revealed yet, he was sitting in a black, luxurious armchair. The only thing showing is the back of that armchair and the hint of a really muscular, brown skinned wrist.
"I have a challenge for you, get that mess cleaned up. And i'll give you how much ever you want."
The man on the other side pauses for a moment. His grip on the phone tighten slightly.
"Keep the money to yourself, fam. Just give me that juicy description of the gentlemen, and I won't let you down."
To be continued…