Miftahuzzarbil Book 2 Complete Abdulaziz Sani Madakin Gini

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MIFTAHUL-ZARBIL BOOK 2 BY ABDULAZIZ MADAKIN GINI 

The Duel and The Escaping Lovers

As for King Amzadu, he did nothing but laugh hysterically. At that exact moment, Princess Laslaiya arrived at the arena at a breakneck speed. When her eyes fell upon the warrior Mozur trapped in the iron grip of Zarto, and she witnessed the horrific state he was in, she let out a piercing shriek, crying out Mozur’s name. Moving on the brink of losing consciousness, Mozur heard the cry and recognized the voice of his beloved.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, Mozur let out a thunderous roar of his own, bellowing the name of Laslaiya. With brutal, primal strength, he forcefully broke the hands of the warrior Zarto from around his neck. He then hoisted Zarto high into the air and began spinning him around violently like a man swinging a sling weapon. With a single, crushing motion, he slammed him brutally against the ground. By an act of fatal misfortune, Zarto landed squarely on his head; his neck snapped instantly, and he died without even a single twitch.
The moment this happened, Princess Laslaiya bolted up the staircases, rushing to the elevated mound where Mozur stood. Reaching him, she threw herself onto his chest, and they locked each other in a tight embrace of overwhelming joy.
King Amzadu sprang to his feet in a towering rage, barking orders to his vanguard to execute the warrior Mozur on the spot. Before the soldiers could make a single move, a massive cloud of dust was seen billowing from the east. The attention of the entire arena immediately shifted eastward, everyone freezing dead in their tracks.
To their utter shock, a sudden raid was being launched by tens of thousands of charging cavalrymen. Instantly, the town fell into sheer panic. The arena descended into absolute chaos as people fled in all directions, screaming and crying. King Amzadu himself was reduced to crawling on all fours until he managed to reach a horse, mounted it, and galloped furiously toward the royal palace, completely abandoning his own daughter, Princess Laslaiya.
Meanwhile, the forty thousand imperial soldiers who had been stationed to guard the warrior Mozur immediately pivoted to intercept the mysterious raiders, and a brutal battle erupted. When the warrior Mozur saw how violently the arena had broken apart, he scooped the princess up in his arms and sprinted with her toward a spot where a white stallion stood tethered. Reaching the stallion, he hoisted the princess onto its back, leaped up behind her, and yanked the tethering rope with such ferocious strength that the very wooden stake driven into the earth was ripped completely out of the ground.
Mozur dug his heels into the horse's flanks, sending it into a furious gallop. Instead of heading toward the city center, they circumvented the rear lines of the clashing armies, plunged deep into the wilderness, and rode hard without stopping.
Back with King Amzadu, the moment he and his courtiers reached the palace in their desperate flight, they halted and immediately began frantic war preparations. They relied heavily on those forty thousand vanguard troops as an emergency reinforcement, for the invading raiders were numerous beyond measure. A massive army was rapidly assembled for a counter-offensive, and King Amzadu himself mounted his warhorse. He issued a strict, unyielding decree: the warrior Mozur and Princess Laslaiya must be hunted down and found wherever they might be, and the invading enemies who launched the surprise raid must be entirely annihilated.
Immediately, the commander-in-chief led hundreds of thousands of the city's finest warriors, galloping their horses at a breakneck speed toward the gates of the arena where the battle raged. If anyone had witnessed this immense mobilization at that moment, they would have sworn that every single warrior on the face of the earth had gathered for war. The deafening thunder of the horses' hooves alone was enough to terrify the soul, to say nothing of the deep, echoing battle cries of the warriors that saturated the air. The entire town was gripped by fear; women and young children wept bitterly, while the elderly were so paralyzed with fright that they suffered sudden bouts of diarrhea! 😅😅
When the reinforcing army arrived at the battlefield, they discovered that their vanguard comrades had been utterly decimated, with only a tiny fraction left alive. Instantly, the battle ignited anew with ferocious intensity. The screeching clash of iron weapons multiplied. Blood splattered violently, pooling across the dust.
It was a roaring market for the harvesting of souls, where the powerful and the brave traded in death without a shred of mercy.
Meanwhile, the warrior Mozur and Princess Laslaiya traveled continuously for a full day and night on their horse. She lay cradled against his chest, and they dared not stop, terrified that pursuers might catch up to them. It was only when they reached a tiny town tucked away within the continent's interior that they finally halted before an old well and dismounted. There, they drank water to quench their thirst and sat down, gazing into each other’s eyes. When they saw how gaunt and haggard they both had become from the agonizing sorrow of their separation, they burst into tears.
Princess Laslaiya wrapped her arms tightly around Mozur and wept:

"O my true beloved, I know we have walked through a terrible abyss of misery and the agonizing torture of longing. But right now, my heart is filled with a joy so deep it feels as though I have never known a day of sorrow in my life, simply because I am with you. I swear, I will never let anything separate us again, save for death itself."

The warrior Mozur gently pulled back slightly so they could look face-to-face, and replied:

"O the sole desire of my heart, by night and by day, know that my heart and my soul have cast out everything else within them. They hold nothing else, even to the weight of an atom, except for you. I assure you that my sight, my hearing, my journeys, and my rest are entirely guided by my longing for you, night and day. I give you my solemn vow this day: whether by water, wind, fire, or storm—no matter the magnitude of the catastrophe or calamity—I will never consent to our separation as long as a single breath of life remains within this body."

Upon hearing these words, an overwhelming wave of pure happiness washed over Princess Laslaiya, and she buried herself once more in Mozur’s embrace.
When King Muhucul reached this point in his narrative, he suddenly fell silent, looked toward Ruziyal and his companions, and said:
"Well, time has run out. I shall stop here until tomorrow. If we are still among the living, return, and I will continue this tale."
The moment he finished speaking, he stood up and walked into his private quarters. The court dismissed, and everyone went their separate ways, leaving Ruziyal and his friends sitting there in deep, agonizing frustration at being denied the conclusion of the story.

The Descent into the Underworld

As for the jinn Markahus Sabus and his companions, after successfully harvesting the molten stone from the largest mountain in existence, the jinn Durmazalu continued to fly with them across the celestial realms. They traveled for seven solid hours before descending to the terrestrial world, landing squarely upon a small, isolated island.
The moment they touched down, the jinn Durmazalu cleared his throat and declared:
"O companions of this quest, I call upon every one of you to steel your hearts and prepare. For we are about to embark upon a journey far more perilous than anything you have witnessed before. Know that we are now going to descend deep into the bowels of the subterranean world to reach the final realm, so that we may harvest the Stone of Fire. I must inform you that this final realm is the seventh underworld. Before we can reach it, we must pierce through six distinct underworlds. Within each world reside unique races of creatures, all possessing immense political dominion and devastating sorcery.
It is by no means guaranteed that we will pass through these six worlds safely. It is highly probable that some of us will perish, or perhaps all of us will be completely annihilated due to the sheer horror and calamity surrounding these subterranean entities. I urge us to be resilient; let us plant the conviction of victory firmly in our minds, for if our hearts falter, we will never succeed."
When the jinn Durmazalu reached this point in his speech, Markahus Sabus, the sorcerer Jinshan, Durfus, the sorcerer Sulbaini, and the young maiden from the City of Stones, Salusa, could only stare blankly in stunned silence. Terror gripped them, and their minds were thrown into absolute turmoil, for they had no conception of the horrific nightmares waiting for them within the layers of the earth.
Without wasting a single moment, Durmazalu dissolved into the ground, pulling Markahus Sabus and the others down with him, traveling through the subterranean deep. They journeyed for three continuous days before arriving at the first underworld, a realm known as Madinatul Aslik (The City of Lead).
The moment they manifested within this world, they looked like utter peasants, staring around in absolute bewilderment at the bizarre architecture of the city and the strange entities inhabiting it. The city of Madinatul Aslik was constructed entirely out of pure, solid lead. Everywhere you looked, there was no soil; you walked exclusively upon sheets of flattened lead that resembled woven mats, which could literally be rolled up. There was not a single patch of earth where crops could be sown, let alone sprout.
As for the inhabitants, they were dwarf-like creatures, exceptionally short and round—not a single one of them exceeded a single cubit in height. They were tiny, slender, flat-bodied, and practically weightless. Yet, miraculously, these tiny creatures could effortlessly lift gargantuan blocks of iron. Some of these iron masses were so colossally heavy that not even Markahus Sabus could have lifted them from the ground, let alone the frail sorcerer Jinshan and his minor occult companions.
The faces of these creatures were humanoid, as were their hands and feet, but they possessed extraordinarily long mouths. The tips of their mouths curved into a sharp, hooked beak, precisely like the beak of a parrot. Furthermore, these beaks possessed the absolute hardness of iron; anything they struck with them would instantly be pierced through and shattered, even if it were solid rock. The entirety of these creatures' physical power was concentrated within their mouths, for even the heavy iron blocks they transported were carried exclusively with their beaks. They possessed no mounts like horses or donkeys; instead, they traveled by flying upon gargantuan, terrifyingly monstrous bats.
When the citizens of the city witnessed the arrival of the jinn Durmazalu and his companions, they froze completely, halting all their activities to stare at them with wide, owl-like eyes. Durmazalu and his group, however, simply continued on foot, weaving in and out of the strange streets. They spoke to no one, and no one spoke to them. Wherever they passed, all commerce ground to a halt as crowds gathered just to watch them.
Indeed, Markahus Sabus and his companions witnessed wonders in this underworld that far eclipsed anything they had seen since the beginning of their quest to gather the three mythical elements required to forge the legendary artifact, Miftahul Zarbil (The Key to the Chasm).
Nothing astonished them more than a slender glass bottle that the citizens had erected right in the center of the metropolis. Due to its sheer, unfathomable height, it looked as though its tip was piercing the celestial clouds. If a man swore to walk a complete circle around the base of this bottle, he would spend forty solid days traveling and still not return to his starting point. This miraculous bottle was entirely filled with water, and a spout was attached to its side, continuously discharging a stream. You could see hordes of citizens arriving, collecting the water, and leaving for their personal use. At any given second, a thousand people could simultaneously draw water from it and depart, yet the water never diminished—even though the physical width of the bottle was no larger than a single human being; it merely possessed infinite height.
Markahus Sabus stared intently at the bottle and muttered, "Wow. He who does not travel the world truly misses out on its wonders. If we had merely been told a tale that such a bottle existed, we would never have believed it. But since we see it with our own eyes, we have no choice but to accept the truth."
Before the sorcerer Jinshan or anyone else could reply, they suddenly found themselves completely surrounded. It was a legion of the city’s elite warriors, numbering roughly a thousand, riding upon those monstrous bats. They carried no weapons whatsoever in their hands, but their mouths were vastly longer and wider than those of the ordinary citizens. Before the jinn Durmazalu or his occult companions could make a single defensive move, they were violently snatched up, one by one, caught firmly in the iron beaks of the warriors. They were hoisted onto the backs of the monstrous bats and launched furiously into the sky, without a single one of them being able to lift a finger to escape.
The jinn Durmazalu looked at his own colossal, titanic form—which boasted a staggering one million wings—and realized that his immense size was completely useless to him now. These tiny dwarf creatures had pinned him so securely that he could not even twitch. Overwhelmed by sheer frustration and humiliation, he burst into tears.
Markahus Sabus looked at him, burst into a roaring laugh, and mocked:
"Well, today we see the ultimate reality! A lion trapped in the paws of a cat, and the cat has even made the lion weep! It turns out that mass and size do not equal strength. From this day forward, let there be no more boasting or arrogant talk, for every big man has a bigger master!" 😅😅😅
Durmazalu shot a vicious glare at Markahus Sabus and snapped:
"Listen to me, you insolent little fool! I never boasted from the start. I explicitly warned all of you that anything could happen to any of us. I never exempted myself, nor did I claim immunity!"
Thus, they were carried away through the sky for a long, grueling duration until they arrived at a colossal palace—a structure so monstrously vast that nothing in the entire underworld could match its scale. The palace was constructed entirely out of pure white lead. In all his extensive travels across the realms of the earth, Markahus Sabus had never beheld a structure of such breathtaking magnitude. When they were forced inside, they were marched through a series of extraordinarily opulent, grand royal chambers.

The Secret of the Seven Underworld Sovereigns

Each single chamber they passed was three times larger, more beautiful, and more magnificent than the great palace of Baharzus. After passing through six majestic chambers, their captors finally halted them in the seventh.
This seventh chamber was the crown jewel, serving as the mother sovereign over the previous six. Every single asset within it was pure, blinding white; there was not a trace of black or any other color to be found. Miracles and anomalies were scattered everywhere in countless numbers. It was here that they witnessed fish swimming freely through the open air without any water, and it was here that they beheld a creature that was half-human and half-lion.
The being's head and hands were entirely human, but from his navel down to his torso and limbs, he was completely a lion. His chest was similarly leonine, dense with a thick mane of hair. This entity was lounging comfortably upon a long, luxurious royal divan, holding a massive goblet filled to the brim with fine wine. He sipped it leisurely, flicking his tail back and forth in pure contentment, thoroughly enjoying the rich flavor of the vintage.
When Markahus Sabus and his companions were marched into this magnificent hall, the half-lion sovereign’s face broke into a wide, welcoming smile. He placed his wine goblet onto a small table before him, looked down at the captives, and spoke:
"A formal and most joyous welcome to you. Welcome to the metropolis of Madinatul Aslik, O loyal disciples of the grand sorcerer Shamharu!"
In a state of absolute shock, Markahus Sabus and his companions exchanged bewildered glances before turning their silent, intense gaze back to the creature.
True to his reckless nature, Markahus Sabus blurted out, "O noble and generous king, how is it that you knew of our coming? And what do you intend to do with us, that you ordered your warriors to capture us and drag us in chains before your presence?"
Upon hearing this question, the sovereign roared with laughter and replied:
"O Markahus Sabus, know that my name is Sarudul Makam, and I am the absolute emperor of this underworld of Madinatul Aslik. There is not a single king across the celestial heavens, the terrestrial earth, or the intermediate realms whose existence I am blind to. I know their movements, their secret strategies, and the ultimate desires of their souls. Know that everything that has befallen you, I have watched unfold clearly within my mystical mirror of sorcery.
Right now, you have just emerged from the City of Stones, where you successfully harvested the molten stone from the largest mountain in your world. And now, your objective is to pierce down to the final, seventh underworld beneath us to extract the Stone of Fire. If you succeed there, your next journey will be to siphon half the water of your world's oceans. You intend to deliver these three components to Shamharu so that he may forge the artifact Miftahul Zarbil. With it, he plans to unlock the long-lost Palace of Saukatul Askur, belonging to King Azmul Gallar, to seize his ancient grimoire of ultimate black magic, read its texts, and claim the ultimate secrets of sorcery. Is this not the absolute truth?"
Markahus Sabus nodded grimly, "Your words are as solid as rock."
Sarudul Makam laughed heartily once more and continued:
"Know that all seven of these underworlds beneath the earth are technically under the sovereign dominion of my late mother, and my biological brothers rule the other six realms. We seven brothers were all born on the exact same day, from a single birth. However, I was the very first to emerge from her womb, followed by Saradul Hasal, Saradul Algaz, Saradul Hisnu, Saradul Badal, and finally Saradul Imzan—who holds the crown of the seventh and final underworld.
I must inform you that all seven of us hate each other to the point of death; we are bitter adversaries, and every single one of us is actively plotting to assassinate the others. Nothing caused this deep blood-feud except for raw, venomous jealousy over absolute power. Long ago, before the passing of our mother, all seven underworlds were unified under this single realm of mine, and our mother ruled it with an iron fist. But when she lay on her deathbed, struck down by her terminal illness, she carved up her empire and granted a single underworld to each brother to rule, hoping to prevent war among us.
As it stands today, every single one of us desires to conquer and absorb all seven underworlds to rule them entirely alone. So, as you can see, her dying strategy failed utterly, since absolute war has broken out between us. Through my deep divinations, I discovered that I must execute a specific magical ritual if I am to successfully conquer these six underworlds—and this ritual cannot be achieved without the assistance of mortal creatures who possess blood, creatures exactly like you. Therefore, your arrival here is a divine blessing to me; it is the manifestation of my ultimate ambition. I will absolutely not allow you to take another step from this palace until you grant me your total cooperation to complete this task."
When Emperor Sarudul Makam paused, Markahus Sabus took a deep breath and countered:
"O King, I wish to beg a single favor of you before you outline this task we must perform for you."
Sarudul Makam waved his hand, "Speak what you desire."
Markahus Sabus cleared his throat and said:
"O Great King, know that in all the wide world, there is nothing I love or yearn to see more than Princess Sima. I beg you to reveal to me what fate has befallen her since the day I was separated from her side—since you claim to possess absolute sight over everything that transpires across every realm."
Upon hearing this emotional plea, Emperor Sarudul Makam broke into an amused, ringing laugh and said:
"Ah, that is an incredibly simple matter! And I bring you glad tidings: I will not merely tell you of her fate; I will manifest the reality of her life before your very eyes right now, so you may witness everything she went through."
Instantly, Sarudul Makam stroked the smooth surface of a crimson magical tablet. In an flash, a vivid, moving projection of Princess Sima's journey began to play out chronologically. Markahus Sabus watched the day he had escorted her home to his mother, Samaratu; he saw the outbreak of the catastrophic war between the jinn Abtarul Hudeis and the forces of King Lu'umanu; he watched the perilous journey of Hubairu and Princess Sima to the city of historical relics; and finally, he witnessed the grand, glorious wedding of Princess Sima to the warrior Hubairu in the holy city of Laharim, where the banner of Islam was raised high over the land.
The moment Markahus Sabus finished watching these revelations, his eyes welled with bitter tears, and he began to weep silently. He knew right then that he had lost Princess Sima completely and forever. Deep, heavy contemplation settled over his soul; he began to question the very purpose of his existence, realizing that all the brutal struggles, wars, and agony he had endured throughout his life were entirely for the sake of Princess Sima—and now, she was gone from his reach forever.
He recalled the horrific torture he suffered at the hands of King Lu'umanu; he remembered his life-and-death battle with the demonic beast Kiryanu to harvest the magical elixir; he looked back at how his life had merely been a pawn for the world's dark sorcerers, dragged from one realm to another, discarded at whim, possessing absolutely no agency or power of his own.
As he searched his mind for a path to true salvation and freedom, he realized that across the entire world, the only force that consistently overthrew and utterly paralyzed the dark sorcerers were the practitioners of the Islamic faith—for he had just witnessed with his own eyes how Abtarul Hudeis and the Muslim forces had completely annihilated the mighty legions of Lu'umanu. In that quiet moment of heartbreak, Markahus Sabus felt his heart open up and embrace the truth of Islam; he felt a powerful yearning to enter the faith, but alas, he was completely ignorant of how to perform the transition.
Emperor Sarudul Makam suddenly barked a fierce reprimand at the weeping jinn:
"What are you daydreaming about?! Give me your absolute attention right now so you can understand the task ahead of us! This mission is simple: we are going to march together into the six underworlds beneath us to wage absolute war against them one by one. We shall slaughter those who must be slaughtered and chain those who must be chained—including my own biological brothers!
Once a realm is conquered, your role is to infiltrate their royal treasuries (Baitul Mali) and retrieve six golden horns for me. To be precise, within each treasury lies a single golden horn. When gathered together, they will total six. Once I possess these six golden horns, I will plunge them directly into the literal, geographic core of my underworld. Only when I execute this will I gain absolute, telepathic dominion to rule all six underworlds.
However, you must know that these six horns are incredibly tiny, microscopic objects—yet my people and I can never touch them with our bare hands. If a single one of us touches them, we will instantly melt into a puddle of liquid and dissolve into nothingness. This is because our biological anatomy contains absolutely no blood; our bodies are composed exclusively of bone and solid muscle tissue. It strictly requires a living being with actual blood pumping through their veins to handle these golden horns."
Astonishment and disbelief gripped Markahus Sabus and his occult companions. The sorcerer Jinshan stared wide-eyed at Emperor Sarudul Makam and challenged:
"How can you possibly claim that there is not a single drop of blood inside your bodies?"
Sarudul Makam smiled coldly, "I knew your mortal minds would never believe it without proof. Therefore, I shall demonstrate the reality to you right now."
Instantly, Sarudul Makam drew a long, razor-sharp carving knife and sliced a massive gash right across his own forearm. A huge, thick slab of muscle tissue split open and dangled limply from his arm—yet not a single drop, not even a microscopic speck of blood emerged. There was nothing visible except stark white bones and twitching, dry sinews—a deeply grotesque and horrifying sight.
Terrified and nauseated, Markahus Sabus and his companions quickly averted their eyes, unable to stomach the sight of the open wound. Sarudul Makam let out a mocking laugh, grabbed the severed piece of flesh dangling from his arm, and pressed it firmly back into its original position. Instantly, the flesh fused back together seamlessly, smoothing over completely as if the knife had never touched his skin.
This display of advanced anatomy threw Markahus Sabus and his companions into an even deeper state of shock. The sorcerer Sulbaini looked up at Sarudul Makam and asked trembling, "O Emperor, are the inhabitants of the remaining six underworlds below composed of this exact same bloodless anatomy?"
Sarudul Makam replied, "No, they are not like us at all. You must understand that every single citizen you see in this metropolis is either my biological son or my biological daughter. Meaning, I alone fathered this entire race..."

2. Original Story Summary

This double-feature excerpt from the epic Miftahuzzarbil universe consists of two parallel narratives:

• The Mortal Realm (Story-within-a-story): The fierce warrior Mozur is pushed to his absolute limits in a public duel against the giant Zarto. Spurred by the desperate cries of his true love, Princess Laslaiya, Mozur taps into monstrous strength, snaps Zarto's neck, and wins the match. Before King Amzadu can order his execution out of spite, a massive surprise cavalry raid throws the kingdom into total anarchy. The king flees like a coward, leaving his vanguard to face the invaders. Mozur uses the chaos to rescue Princess Laslaiya, ripping a hitching post straight out of the earth, and they flee deep into the wilderness. After a day of hard riding, they find temporary refuge at an isolated well, tearfully professing vows of eternal devotion. The frame narrator, King Muhucul, abruptly ends his daily storytelling session here, leaving his courtiers deeply frustrated.

• The Underworld Realm (The Main Quest): The multi-winged jinn Durmazalu leads Markahus Sabus and a band of mortal dark sorcerers into the subterranean depths to find the "Stone of Fire." They land in Madinatul Aslik (The Underworld of Lead), a flat, rolling city populated by iron-beaked dwarves who ride monstrous bats. The group is effortlessly captured by these dwarves and brought before Emperor Sarudul Makam, a powerful half-human, half-lion hybrid. The emperor reveals he knows their entire quest to forge the Miftahul Zarbil. He offers a deal: he will let them proceed if they help him wage war against his six identical twin brothers who rule the lower underworlds. He needs the mortals because the objective of the war is to steal six magical golden horns from the royal vaults—horns that carry a lethal curse that melts anyone without blood in their veins. To prove his bloodless anatomy, the emperor slices his own arm open, showing only dry bone and muscle before instantly healing himself. Meanwhile, Markahus Sabus is shown a vision of his beloved Princess Sima marrying a Muslim warrior, breaking his heart and planting the first seeds of a secret desire to convert to Islam.

  3. Analytical Description & Literary Context

  Literary ElementAnalysisGenre & HeritageEpic Hausa Fantasy / Adabin Maras Kwana: This text is a masterclass in modern Hausa epic fantasy fiction. It heavily borrows structure from classic Arabic/Persian lore (like One Thousand and One Nights) by utilizing a multi-layered frame narrative, hybrid mythological beasts (half-lion, half-human), cosmic scales (seven distinct underworlds), and grand-scale warfare.Tone and StyleThe author writes with a high-energy, cinematic pace. The transition from intense martial action (Mozur snapping a neck and a kingdom falling to a sudden raid) to deep emotional romance (the vows at the well), and finally to surreal, high-fantasy world-building (the bloodless emperor) keeps the reading experience highly dynamic. The author breaks the fourth wall with modern emojis (😅) to blend classical storytelling with modern digital engagement.Anatomical World-BuildingThe concept of Madinatul Aslik is brilliant in its internal logic. A world made entirely of lead (darma) features inhabitants whose physical prowess is localized in iron-hard, parrot-like beaks. Furthermore, the plot engine relies on an anatomical twist: the underworld rulers are immortal, bloodless entities made only of bone and muscle, creating a dependency on mortal, blood-bearing human/jinn allies to handle the cursed artifacts.Spiritual MetamorphosisA crucial thematic subplot is introduced through Markahus Sabus. Seeing his lifelong pursuit (Princess Sima) happy and married to a Muslim warrior breaks his spirit but alters his worldview. His realization that Islam is the only force capable of naturally dismantling dark magic sets up a profound internal redemptive arc for a character who started as a villainous jinn sorcerer.