Goga Sha Fama Book Compelet By Mansur Usman Sufi

Description

It was a deeply imposing, ancient, and terrifying forest. It was a dark convergence of tangled, ancient trees, jagged rocks, rushing streams, deep ravines, and towering mountains. No matter how fearless a person claimed to be, a single glance at the sheer, oppressive malice of this wilderness would strike absolute terror into their soul. Just looking at it, one knew with absolute certainty that its depths harbored vicious, supernatural beasts or malicious djinns. The absolute, suffocating silence hanging over the landscape was enough to drive a person mad with fear.
Yet, what would completely astound any onlooker was that despite the terrifying nature of this wilderness, a lone human being walked through it, completely devoid of fear or hesitation.
He was a remarkably handsome youth, roughly fifteen years old. He wore nothing but a simple loincloth wrapped around his waist that hung down to his knees; his upper body was entirely bare. This lack of clothing put his magnificent, warrior physique on full display. His body was tightly corded with lean, iron-like muscles, and he possessed a broad chest that looked as though solid rock had been sculpted beneath his skin. His hair was pitch-black and radiant, cascading down wildly over his face and chest.
He wore absolutely nothing on his feet. In his hand, he gripped a massive, double-edged spear; its edges were jagged like a saw, yet it was as razor-sharp as a legendary sword. One look at this youth was enough to realize that he possessed a divine, terrifying raw power.
He walked through the dangerous wilderness with an aura of absolute majesty, cutting through jagged rocks, rushing waters, and the densest, darkest thickets as effortlessly as if he were walking through his own royal bedchamber.
As he was walking, he caught the faint sound of movement behind him. Turning around, his eyes met a massive lioness and her mate, sprinting through the trees, playfully chasing one another in sheer delight. Whenever the male lion gained some distance, the lioness would exert her massive strength, sprint past him, and let out a playful, triumphant roar to boast of her victory.
Seeing the playful display between the two lions, the youth simply stared at them and smiled. The lions bolted directly past him at a furious pace, running so far ahead that within moments, they became tiny, barely visible specks in the distance.
Suddenly, the youth braced his body, dug his heels into the dirt, and exploded forward into a supernatural, breathtaking sprint. Streams, boulders, and dense thickets could not slow him down for a single fraction of a second. No matter how wide a rushing river was, he would clear it in a single bound. At times, he would vault high into the air, swinging from the branches of the towering trees with the effortless agility of a wild ape. At other times, if a massive tree stood directly in his path, blocking his trajectory, he would simply throw a single punch with one hand, shattering the tree to pieces and sending it crashing to the ground, stepping right over it without breaking his stride.
In less than fifteen seconds, he caught up and dropped heavily directly in front of the two sprinting lions.
When the lions found their path suddenly blocked by the youth, they skidded to a violent halt. A tense, silent standoff ensued. Suddenly, the lioness and her mate reared up and launched themselves simultaneously at the youth’s chest, attempting to tackle him. The collision was immense, but the moment they hit his body, both massive lions bounced off him and crashed violently to the dirt.
The youth had not budged an inch; his feet remained rooted to the ground, completely unmoved by the impact.
This display of raw dominance repeated itself ten consecutive times. When the lions finally realized that they could not move him or gain the upper hand, they bowed their massive heads low to the dirt and knelt before him, an ancient gesture signifying that they had sworn their absolute allegiance (Mubaya'a) to him.
This youth was none other than the legendary young warrior, Hibairu—The King of Warriors (Sarkin Sadaukai).
Seeing the lions bow in absolute submission before him, Hibairu simply turned around and continued his majestic stroll through the wilderness, his double-edged spear resting in his hand. This was a glimpse into the daily life of the warrior Hibairu, the King of Warriors, deep within the Baitul-Shamshan forest.
Meanwhile, regarding the young guardian Hizmal and his companions: the moment they successfully crossed the threshold into the House of Salvation (Gidan Tsira), they found themselves standing inside a magnificent, sprawling palace. The estate was breathtakingly adorned with the rarest ornaments and luxury the world had to offer. The entire palace structure was built from pure, solid gemstones that gleamed and shimmered under the light. Every corner of the estate was decorated with vibrant, beautifully arranged exotic flowers and plants that were a true marvel to behold.
The palace contained forty massive royal lounges, each uniquely furnished with distinct, unparalleled luxuries that differentiated it from the next. Frankly, if any monarch or billionaire were to find themselves inside this house, they would immediately feel humbled and realize that they had stepped into the absolute pinnacle of paradise on earth.
After Hizmal and his group settled into a magnificent royal chamber, everyone took some time to clean up and rest. Once an air of absolute peace and tranquility filled the room, Hizmal cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and turned his gaze directly toward the mysterious rider.
He said, "O warrior of unmatched might, the time has finally come for you to grant me the answers to the questions I asked you before."
Upon hearing Hizmal's words, the rider reached up, unwrapped the heavy battle turban concealing their head, and pulled it away, revealing their face completely.
When the young guardian Hizmal looked upon the rider's face, he was struck with absolute bewilderment and awe. His astonishment did not stem from fear, but from the realization that the terrifying, unstoppable warrior who had slaughtered an army was actually a stunningly beautiful young woman. In all his years on earth, Hizmal had never laid eyes on a woman with such a flawless, breathtaking physique and divine grace. For the very first time in his life, the spark of romantic love pierced deep into Hizmal’s heart.
The beautiful young woman looked at Hizmal, tossing him a captivating, radiant smile that carried a hint of mystery.
Then, she parted her lips, and when she spoke, her voice was incredibly sweet, smooth, and melodious, sounding like the beautiful notes of a flute. She said, "O Hizmal, I have now revealed my true form to you. Now, I shall reveal the true reason why I intervened to help you save the life of this little boy, Humair."
"First of all, my name is Husnaila, daughter of King Ishwar. My father is an immensely powerful sorcerer and a magnificent king who ruled with absolute dominance over the territories of the Mid-Western lands. The reason I was separated from my father and exiled from our kingdom is a long tale..."
"Roughly forty years after the conclusion of the End of the Sixth Century and the Second World War, there rose a magnificent, powerful empire known as Baitul-Mausul. The empire of Baitul-Mausul flourished immensely in global commerce, agriculture, and livestock breeding. To safeguard their vast empire, they boasted an elite army of exceptionally resilient, iron-willed warriors who were unstoppable on the field of battle.
The sovereignty of this empire was under the absolute rule of my father, King Ishwar. King Ishwar was a legendary titan of war who shattered enemy forces on the battlefield. He possessed unimaginable wealth and held a deep, mastery of the mystic arts. Yet, he was a deeply just and empathetic ruler who loved his subjects dearly. Because of his benevolence, his people loved him fiercely and swore absolute loyalty to his crown. Furthermore, all the neighboring monarchs across the continent feared his wrath and never dared to launch an offensive against our borders.
My father had four wives, and all of them bore him children. Prince Ubaiyu was the eldest son, followed by Princess Hushriba, Prince Zaiyum, and finally, myself—the youngest daughter of the household, Husnaila.
Out of all my father’s children, I was the only one who inherited his noble virtues and upright character—unlike my siblings, Prince Ubaiyu and the others. When my siblings realized that our father and the entire population of the empire had placed their deepest affection upon me, and were openly signaling that I was destined to inherit the throne, a bitter, venomous hatred took root in their hearts.
Countless times, they orchestrated vicious assassinations to eliminate me, but through my martial skills, I evaded them every single time. My mother also faced constant persecution and malice from her co-wives. There were many nights where she and I would sit together in our chambers, weeping bitterly over the cruelty inflicted upon us by our own family.
As days turned into weeks, a terrible tragedy struck. My father suddenly fell victim to a severe, deeply mysterious illness that completely defied medical and mystical comprehension. Every single muscle in his body became totally paralyzed, leaving him completely immobile. The only parts of his body he could move were his eyes and his mouth, which allowed him to speak.
The empire's greatest sorcerers and medicine men dedicated themselves day and night to uncovering the root cause of this affliction and finding a cure that could restore him, but they failed. My father, however, kept the true findings of his mystical deductions hidden from his wives and eldest sons.
One day, at the break of dawn, my siblings and I entered our father’s royal chambers to check on his condition. Upon entering, we found him lying completely static upon the grand royal bed. Looking at him, one would easily mistake him for a lifeless stone statue; his entire body was completely paralyzed, save for his eyes, which blinked weakly.
Seeing our father reduced to such a helpless state, tears began to stream down our faces. We stood there in sorrowful silence for about fifty seconds before my siblings turned to leave the chambers. Prince Ubaiyu led the way out, followed by Princess Hushriba and Prince Zaiyum, leaving me at the rear.
Just as I placed one foot outside the threshold, to my absolute surprise, I heard my father clear his throat weakly and call out: 'My daughter... return to my side. I must reveal a profound secret to you.'
Hearing my father’s voice, I immediately turned back, rushed to his bedside, and knelt respectfully before him. My father parted his lips and began to chant a series of cryptic, highly advanced magical incantations. Instantly, a brilliant orb of light materialized, shooting across the room to seal the doors and windows of the chamber. The light then condensed in the center of the room, transforming into a glowing mystical lantern. The entire chamber became flooded with a brilliant, supernatural light so intense that if a tiny sewing needle were to drop to the floor, one could spot it instantly.
Then, my father spoke, his voice booming with raw authority yet laced with a deep, sorrowful affection. He said: 'My daughter, my pride and joy... know that I have sealed this room to isolate you for one reason: to reveal the absolute, hidden truth behind this plague that has paralyzed me. My daughter, know that my own secret mystical investigations have proven that this illness was not natural. Your brothers, Prince Ubaiyu and the others, orchestrated a dark, forbidden sorcery ritual to destroy my body so they could usurp my throne.'
'Because of their treacherous plot, I intentionally commanded the Grand Vizier to issue a royal decree, sending them to the farthest corners of the earth under the guise of searching for my cure. I declared that whoever successfully returns with the cure shall inherit my crown. But my daughter, know that out of all my children and wives, you are the only one I truly love. Therefore, I shall reveal the exact cure to you, because I want you—and only you—to succeed me on the throne. I know with absolute certainty that under your rule, our people will find eternal peace and happiness, whereas your brothers will bring nothing but ruin.'
'The only artifact in existence that can shatter this curse and cure my body is the Enchanted Mystic Belt (Damarar Sihiri) worn around the waist of the Supreme King of Sorcerers. This mystical belt is inscribed with the secret, primordial names of the Almighty Lord, worshipped by the followers of a sacred faith known as Islam.'
'Even if all the greatest warriors of the earth were to unite as one force, they could never forcefully strip the King of Sorcerers of that belt, so long as it remains in his possession. My daughter, you will never succeed in obtaining that belt unless you enlist the aid of a divinely gifted, supernatural young warrior who currently resides deep within the Baitul-Shamshan forest. His name is Hibairu. My visions have confirmed that Hibairu is currently the undisputed King of Warriors across the entire globe; there is no mortal alive who possesses a fraction of his physical might.'
'However, Hibairu has never seen another human being in his life. He lives exclusively among wild beasts and djinns. Because of this, he speaks a strange, wild dialect that no civilized human can comprehend—except for one person: a young, blind boy named Humair. Currently, this blind child is in the custody of a young guardian named Hizmal, who has fiercely protected his life ever since his parents passed away.'
When my father reached this point in his explanation, he looked at me and said: 'My daughter, I command you to step closer to me.'
Hearing this, I drew closer until I was right beside his face. Suddenly, my father opened his mouth wide, and a dense, glowing orb of white light—no larger than an ostrich egg—emerged from his throat. The orb shot forward, dissolving directly into my chest. The moment the light fully integrated into my body, I felt a colossal, god-like power surge through my veins. I felt an overwhelming sensation that I could take on the entire world single-handedly.
My father forced a weak, proud smile and said: 'My daughter, know that at this very moment, you carry two million of my personal secret magical arcana within your soul. There is no task you set your mind to that you will not successfully conquer. Therefore, go forth, and wait for the official announcement the Grand Vizier will make in the coming days.'
As my father finished speaking, heavy tears rolled down his weathered cheeks. Overcome with deep emotion and sorrow, I threw my arms around him and burst into tears."
As the warrior-princess Husnaila reached this poignant chapter of her history, fresh tears began to overflow from her beautiful eyes. Listening to her tragic tale, the young guardian Hizmal felt a profound wave of empathy wash over his soul, to the point where a tear slipped from his own eye. Even the little blind boy, Humair, though unable to see, felt his heart swell with deep compassion for Husnaila's plight.
Husnaila sat in emotional silence for about fifty seconds before raising her hands to wipe away her tears. Steeling her resolve, she continued her tale:
"Everything unfolded exactly as my father had foretold. Three days later, the Grand Vizier commanded the royal heralds to blast horns throughout the capital city and the surrounding villages, proclaiming that the King was sending his royal children into the world to seek the cure for his paralysis. The decree stated that whichever child successfully secured the cure to heal the sovereign would automatically inherit the throne of the empire.
Upon hearing this proclamation, a massive, suffocating crowd of citizens swarmed the palace courtyard, packing it so tightly that there was not a single inch of space left to stand. Everyone had gathered, waiting solely for our arrival.
Suddenly, my brothers, Prince Ubaiyu and the others, marched into the courtyard. They were dressed in magnificent, heavy battle armor that exuded a terrifying, majestic aura. As they passed, the entire crowd stood up in absolute reverence. My brothers took their seats in the designated royal pavilion, and a dead silence fell over the courtyard.
After about fifty seconds, I marched into the palace courtyard, flanked by an elite vanguard of royal bodyguards. The moment the crowd laid eyes on me, the entire courtyard erupted into a deafening roar of cheers, applause, and celebration! The citizens began chanting wildly, shouting that I was the rightful heir to the throne and that I was the leader they desired!
This public display of adoration struck a bitter chord in the hearts of my siblings; their blood boiled with a murderous rage so intense they looked as though they would burst into flames. Every single one of them glared at me, shooting me lethal, venomous looks.
Once everyone had settled onto their respective thrones, the Grand Vizier stood up and raised his hand. Instantly, the entire palace fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Facing the massive crowd, the Vizier cleared his throat and projected his voice:
'First and foremost, we extend our warmest, most blessed welcome to all the citizens gathered in this sacred palace. Welcome. Furthermore, while the populace is well aware of the crisis that brings us here today, it is my duty to provide complete clarity on the matter. As you all know, our noble King Ishwar has been struck down by a severe, prolonged illness. By royal command, Prince Ubaiyu, Princess Hushriba, Prince Zaiyum, and Princess Husnaila shall journey out into the world to secure the cure that will restore His Majesty's health. Whichever royal heir successfully returns with the cure shall be crowned the next ruler of this blessed empire. Therefore, we shall now escort the royal heirs to the city gates, where their steeds and travel provisions await them.'
As the Vizier concluded his speech, we rose from our seats and marched toward the palace exits, with the Vizier, the council of elders, and the entire populace following closely behind in a grand procession.
Upon reaching the city gates, we mounted our warhorses and gripped the reins. After the final farewells were spoken, each of us took an escort of two hundred elite warriors and charged out into the wild terrain. Prince Ubaiyu galloped toward the West, Princess Hushriba to the South, Prince Zaiyum to the North, while I rode hard toward the East.
We separated from one another. I rode at a furious pace alongside my vanguard for three consecutive hours before finally ordering a halt to set up camp.
Then, to my absolute horror, my own elite vanguard suddenly unsheathed their weapons and ambushed me, striking with lethal intent to execute me on behalf of my brothers! It was only through sheer willpower and a desperate use of my martial arts that I barely managed to escape with my life, sustaining horrific wounds in the process.
That, Hizmal, is the condensed history of my past. That is the tragedy that drove me to hunt down the blind child, Humair, and why I intervened to save his life from Warlord Lahmar. I need Humair to act as my translator, so I can successfully communicate with and recruit Hibairu—the King of Warriors."
Hearing the profound depth of Husnaila’s tale, the young guardian Hizmal looked at her with eyes full of calm, fierce determination. He said softly, "O Husnaila, your story is indeed filled with tragic sorrow. But I give you my solemn vow: so long as there is breath left in my lungs, I will stand by your side and help you fulfill your father's dying wish."
Hearing Hizmal's unwavering vow, Husnaila was overcome with an indescribable, radiant joy. From that moment on, the heavy tension broke, and a warm, deep conversation blossomed between the two young warriors.
This was the beautiful turning point unfolding between the exiled princess Husnaila and the guardian Hizmal inside the House of Salvation, having successfully rescued the blind boy Humair from the clutches of King Shazwan—who had sought to brutally sacrifice the child’s blood to his idols just to save his own city from the raging supernatural forest fires.
Meanwhile, back in the kingdom of Madinatul-Ifdal...
Chaos had completely consumed the city. Men, women, children, and the elderly were sprinting frantically through the streets in a desperate bid to save their lives. Alas! A localized disaster catches entirely unawares, and when the Plague of the Wildfire Storm (Guguwar Annoba) unleashes its fury, none can stay its hand save for the Almighty Lord.
There was no sight more heartbreaking, no horror more capable of shattering a person's soul and forcing bitter tears from their eyes, than witnessing the literal vortexes of supernatural fire latching onto the bodies of innocent young children and defenseless women. They were being consumed alive by the magical flames, letting out bloodcurdling screams for salvation, yet there was absolutely no one to rescue them.
To make matters worse, even the underground drainage systems and stone aqueducts were filled with rushing torrents of liquid fire; there was literally no shelter, no basement, and no avenue where a human being could find refuge. Within less than half an hour, the entire city was littered with the charred, lifeless corpses of children and the elderly. Buildings crumbled into ash, burning to cinders. The deafening echo of weeping women and shrieking children filled the ears. People sprinted blindly, colliding with one another in absolute panic. No matter how cold or ruthless a person claimed to be, witnessing this grotesque catastrophe would force them to weep bitter tears of raw pity.
Amidst this raging inferno, the Chief Sorcerer and his inner circle materialized directly before the palace gates. Witnessing the horrific speed at which the supernatural wildfire was decimating their population, their hearts filled with profound grief and despair.
Grand Vizier Rufyan turned to Chief Sorcerer Dargas, his voice trembling with sheer panic: "O Chief of Sorcerers! You must execute an advanced ritual right now to halt this catastrophe! If this inferno intensifies any further, we will lose our entire lineages, our families, and every single soul in this empire!"
Hearing the Vizier's panicked demands, Chief Sorcerer Dargas forced his face into a grim, hardened expression. He looked at the Vizier with a deeply broken spirit and replied: "My Lord... have you forgotten? For years this plague has manifested, yet every single time it rises, our collective mystic arts fail to have even the slightest effect upon it! The wildfire operates on a frequency entirely immune to our magic! Every single time I have attempted to weave an opposing spell against it, the backlash nearly strips me of my entire lifetime of secret sorcery arcana!"
As Dargas finished speaking, his eyes turned bloodshot, and heavy tears of bitter frustration rolled down his face.
Right at that exact moment, completely out of nowhere, a mysterious rider materialized upon a magnificent, powerful stallion. Clad in resplendent, heavy battle gear, the rider galloped directly toward the palace gates where the sorcerers stood, cutting straight through the towering, roaring walls of fire.
Yet, to the absolute bewilderment of the onlookers, neither the stallion nor the rider caught fire; the magical flames parted around them as if repelled by an invisible shield. This impossible display completely dumbfounded Chief Sorcerer Dargas and his men. They stood with their mouths agape, their eyes glued to the advancing figure.
When the distance between them closed to less than fifty paces, the sorcerers finally realized that the legendary rider was actually a young woman of unparalleled, breathtaking beauty.
When she dropped to within ten paces of their position, the young woman pulled her horse's reins, bringing the beast to a dead stop. Without wasting a single second, she parted her lips and began chanting a sequence of grand, roaring magical incantations, lifting both her hands toward the heavens.
The moment she closed her mouth, a blinding flash of lightning split the sky, followed by an earth-shattering crack of thunder. Instantly, the floodgates of heaven burst open, and a torrential downpour of rain cascaded upon the city as if poured from a cosmic basin.
Yet, mysteriously, not a single drop of the heavy rain touched the young woman’s body.
In less than fifty seconds, the colossal, supernatural wildfire ravaging the empire was completely extinguished, reduced to cold, smoking cinders.
Only then did the surviving citizens begin to regain their senses, looking around in dazed shock at the horrific, catastrophic losses they had sustained. Just as abruptly as it began, the torrential rain ceased instantly, disappearing as though it had never existed.
Overcome with an indescribable, ecstatic joy, Chief Sorcerer Dargas, Grand Vizier Rufyan, and Warlord Lahmar marched forward on foot to meet the young woman where her horse stood. As they drew close to her, their awe only deepened.
The young woman was beautiful beyond description. She possessed a flawless, striking physique and a silhouette so perfectly molded it looked as though she had personally sculpted her own body to perfection. Her skin was a beautiful, radiant olive complexion—neither too dark nor too fair. Slung across her back was a massive, intimidating greatsword, exceptionally long and terrifyingly sharp. Her age could not have been more than twenty years old.
Upon reaching her stirrup, the elderly Dargas parted his lips, his face glowing with absolute relief and gratitude. He looked up at the stunning warrior and said:
"O legendary heroine, master of supernatural wonders... we come before you to offer our deepest, most profound gratitude for this monumental salvation. You have single-handedly rescued millions of our citizens from the jaws of a horrific death."
"Furthermore, if it pleases you, we humbly request that you reveal your identity to us. Where do you rank among the grand sorcerers of the world? And what is it that you desire from us that has brought your legendary presence into our blessed empire?"
Hearing these urgent questions from the mouth of Chief Sorcerer Dargas, the beautiful young woman let out a soft, melodic laugh.
Then, her expression hardened slightly. She cleared her throat and spoke in a smooth, elegant, and highly captivating tone:
"O grand leaders, know that saving the lives of your people was, to me, akin to saving my own life. I know you will find it baffling to hear me say this, but I shall reveal the truth that will shatter your confusion in the answers I give you in the moments to come."
"First of all, my name is Hushriba, daughter of King Ishwar. My father is an immensely powerful titan of sorcery who rules with absolute dominance over his lands. Currently, I have journeyed out into the world under my father's strict royal command to secure the cure for a severe paralysis that afflicts his body."
"Through the deep mystical calculations I conducted upon my personal arcane mirror, I have discovered a startling truth: the legendary cure I am hunting is directly linked to the very supernatural plague that is destroying your empire—the Plague of the Wildfire Storm."