Chapter 1352: Boundless Origins - Ilah

"WOHOOO!!"

SKRRRT!

On a wide freeway just outside the beating heart of Riyadh, the peaceful night was torn apart by the screech of Pirelli tires and the thundering roar of a twin-turbo V8.

A red Ferrari that had a low fender, angry engine, and foreign design cut through the desert wind like a bullet dipped in young money cash money. The switched-on streetlights seemed to flash by in blurs of white and gold, their reflections dancing along the sleek curves of the hypercar's polished hood.

Inside, the interior of the car was lit by the glow of the high-tech digital dashboard and the bright and pulsing neon underglow that flickered with every gear shift.

The music blasting from the premium sound system was something loud, bass-heavy, and definitely not haram.

Looking at it from the perspective of a third party, one could tell that this entire thing wasn't about getting to a destination quickly, but rather about the ride, the ego, and the noise.

The driver was a young man named Khaled whose grin was only as wide as his death wish.

Being twenty-one years old with a lean body along with an attractive jawline, he was the kind of guy who didn't need to try when seeking the embrace of girls his age… or higher.

Everything about this fellow screamed first son of a third wife, the type that was born lucky, raised in wealth, and unbothered by things like consequence or restraint.

His jet-black hair was cut short and stylish, his jaw clean-shaven, and his skin the smooth tan of someone who got just enough sun without ever needing to work in it.

He wore a designer thobe modified into a two-piece — just barely traditional enough to pass while being 'Western' enough to turn heads — with a gold-trimmed keffiyeh loosely tossed around his neck like a scarf. His left hand gripped the wheel like he was Dominic Toretto while his right tapped the dash in time with the beat like he was Tony Stark.

Beside him, crammed into the passenger seat like a stuffed teddy bear that was terrified, was Faisal who was of the same age but had a slightly different story.

The fellow was round-faced, wide-eyed, and built like the gym was something that happened to other people, much like the average reader.

Our dear brother Faisal was currently clutching the side handle like it owed him money while his massive gut bulged against the seatbelt, and his thobe was untucked in a way that suggested either rebellion or resignation.

His hair was curly and wild, his beard scruffy, and his expression shifted between panic (due to fear) and glee (for surviving) every time Khaled swerved into another lane at 200 kilometers per hour.

"Yalla! Khaled, we're going to die, wallah!" Faisal bellowed with primal fear over the wind and music, his voice cracking.

Khaled just laughed, eyes glittering beneath the city lights. "Then die in luxury, habibi!"

SKRRRRRT!!

HONK!

"ASTAGHFIRULLAH!" Faisal shrieked, as they barely missed clipping the edge of a huge lorry changing lanes like it had all the time in the world.

Young Faisal's head slammed back into the seat, eyes bulging with fresh terror as he was doing all he could to hold his bowels within.

Khaled, meanwhile, was vibing!

He spun the wheel one-handed, letting the rear of the Ferrari fishtail ever so slightly before regaining control with surprising ease.

His jaw tightened in concentration as even he knew he was pushing it this time, but outwardly, his grin only widened.

The freeway ahead was a blur of red tail-lights and blinking hazard signs, but Khaled saw a path through it all, like the chaos was made just for him.

Faisal, on the other hand, was having a near-death experience every twelve seconds.

"Bro! BRO! I swear on my mother's life, slow down before you turn me into meat pie—ya Allah—SLOW—"

VRRRRM!

Another gear, another burst of acceleration and Faisal's head jerked back again, the wind outside screaming in tune with his pathetic squeals like a dying pig.

"I wanted a milkshake, not a funeral!" Faisal complained when they slowed down slightly.

Khaled ignored him, or perhaps didn't hear him as his eyes were completely focused. In this moment, where the lights blurred, the wind whipped, and danger was abound, he finally felt like he was alive.

Truly alive and not living day to day under the weight of reality.

The truth was, Khaled didn't care about milkshakes or death… or, if he were to be honest, much of anything.

After all, he was the youngest son of the sitting Saudi Prince — His Majesty Azzam bin Rafiq Al Saud — a man revered for his power and feared for his silence.

The Old Lion of the Peninsula!

The Unshakable Sovereign!

The one who ran the state not with passion, but with precision, like a general surgeon with a scalpel to the kingdom's throat!

The old fellow had aura for days and his titles showed that. He had navigated Saudi Arabia through the tumultuous World War 3 and come out not only unscathed, but slightly ahead as a world power.

Khaled, by contrast, had been born into shadows, not those of disgrace, far from it.

His mother, the prince's third wife, came from a powerful merchant family that had clawed its way into noble circles through ruthless deals and careful grooming. She had eyes like obsidian and hands that never let go of anything that could benefit her.

From the moment Khaled had taken his first breath, she had been grooming him harshly on how to be the perfect candidate for the next Crown Prince.

"You will not be weak." She told him at age five, after he cried for scraping his knee.

"You will not falter." At age nine, when he wanted to paint instead of study economics.

"You will rise, or we all fall." At age fifteen, when the Crown Prince's seat was whispered to be up for re-evaluation.

But obviously, that was her dream, not his.

And as for his illustrious pops? Nowhere to be found.

No, he was not out on a 'milk journey', this was the wrong demographic.

Rather, he was just a silhouette to Khaled, ever busy since childhood, the young fellow only saw his old man maybe twice a month, always in a suit, always mid-call, always leaving.

Pfft, why Khaled was willing to bet that he had spoken more words to the palace guards than to the man who ruled their home!

And so, with his mother's ambition pressing down his neck and his absentee father unable to curb it, the pressure built on young Khaled.

The endless tutors, the polite dinners, the PR-perfect photo ops and the unspoken wars between noble families in the background through his various brothers, and sometimes sisters.

Khaled hated all of it.

So, he picked up driving when he came of age and quickly fell in love with street racing as well as sports cars. Just as an alcoholic indulged in various brews to escape reality, or a nerd might read power fantasy s, Khaled's version was seeing the world turn into a blur around him as he pressed the pedal.

However, today was different.

Earlier today, his father had been dragged away by the call of the God King or whatever to attend a summit. His father took his older brothers and some of the mothers, including his own, but left him and some of his lesser capable brothers behind.

Khaled got the message, he was not even remotely considered for the position of Crown Prince in his father's eyes.

He was awash with relief at the notion.

Or so he thought.

He ended up calling his oldest and most trusted friend Faisal, and came out here to race because he was feeling completely restless and unhappy, unable to focus on anything while at home.

In truth, Khaled did not understand. He always thought he hated the system within his family and the pressure it brought him, so why was it that when he got what he thought he wanted, to be sidelined, he suddenly felt extremely unhappy?

He had always put in mediocre or passing grade effort into the things that counted towards his assessment, so it was natural for him to be eliminated after so long of nothing extraordinary.

Yet even as he drove down the highway at full speed, with his focus condensed and Faisal screeching like an undead banshee beside him, he felt even more restless and unhappy.

The loud music became annoying, the wind whipping him seemed to carry the faint sound of mocking laughter and his comfortable car that he loved to show off on social media seemed worthless.

Khaled was tired, but he was also angry! He was sad but he was also happy! He was lost but he also felt free!

He was… he was so frustrated!!!

"YA ALLAH, KHALED LOOK OUT!" Faisal released a particularly desperate screech that snapped Khaled out of his reverie, only to see that there was a sharp bend ahead.

"Oh…"

That was all Khaled could say as they collided with the barrier, the car flipping into the air and crashing multiple times on the sandy desert before spinning in the air crazily.

As Faisal screamed, Khaled suddenly felt more lucid than ever, the car upside down in mid-air. His mind seemed to clear of all its doubts and questions and he began to wonder what was wrong with him.

How could he do this? How could he put his best friend in such danger? Even if he died, that was fine, but Faisal, who had been with him since day one, did not deserve this!

If this car hit the ground once more, it was likely that they would suffer severe injuries. The previous collisions and bounces were mostly light, but this one was looking to be fatal, so Khaled knew he had to do something!

But what could he do?

In this moment of time, everything seemed to move slowly as his mind spun for ways to save not himself, but his best friend.

Anything! Anyone! Help him save Faisal! He would do anything!

Allah Almighty! Please hear this prayer! Give me the power to save my friend!

Please Allah! I beg of you!

Khaled's desperate prayer seemed to have some effect as he felt a burning heat emerge from within his heart that spread throughout his body and especially converged in his head. The young man's dark eyes manifested a golden-brown color that shone with intensity as he stretched a hand out from within the spinning vehicle, commanding the world around him.

The next moment, a shocking change occurred as the static and docile sand of the desert beneath them came to life, forming a giant hand that caught the crashed vehicle in mid-air, slowly pulling it down to safety upon its surface.

Faisal, who was still screaming as he hadn't realized they were safe, thrashed about left and right while squealing with perceived agony. However, his voice died down when he realized that they were actually safe and unharmed — minus the car — and that they were in the palm of a… giant sand hand?

Faisal blinked with confusion, expecting to see it all disappear, but no, it was still there.

"Mish ma'oul!" Faisal screeched as he jumped with surprising energy and power, tearing off the seatbelt that had saved his life.

He jumped out of the car and onto the sand palm, tapping it with his sandals and feeling how firm it was, despite the sand continually moving like it was alive.

"Bro, are you the avatar or something? You can bend sand? Damn, you have to teach me!" Faisal demanded with excitement.

Khaled, still panting, stared down at his own glowing hand, his chest heaving. "I… I don't even know what that was bro…"

He looked to the sky, his heart and soul deeply shaken for the first time in a long time. "What the hell just happened to me?"

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