Sarautar Mutuwa Compelet Mansur Usman Sufi

Description

THE DOMINION OF DEATH (Sarautar Mutuwa)

Author: Mansur Usman Sufi
King of Martial Arts Writers
08137237071
Copyright: SUFI
Year of Publication: 2023

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

All praise is due to Allah (SWT) for the strength and grace granted to me to write this book titled THE DOMINION OF DEATH. May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon Prophet Muhammad (SAW), his pure family, and his radiant companions.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all lovers of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, wherever they may be across the globe.
Designed and Printed by: SUFI PUBLISHING COMPANY
Rijiyar Lemo, Kano, Nigeria

CHAPTER ONE

In the second century after the First World War, there existed a magnificent and sprawling city in the northern Arabian region known as Zawatul-Ifdar. The city of Zawatul-Ifdar flourished exceptionally in trade, agriculture, livestock farming, and economic power.
The king who ruled over this realm was a notoriously powerful grand sorcerer and a world-renowned billionaire, known by his title King Lazwar ibn Kaulat. Across the entire Arabian continent, no king possessed fame or prestige equal to his; for this very reason, he stood out as an UNCONQUERABLE TITAN among the monarchs of the region.
Yet, all these immense assets that King Lazwar accumulated—his terrifying dark magic, his bottomless treasuries, and his massive imperial military—counted for absolutely nothing in his private life. Every single night, he would lock himself completely alone within his inner royal chambers and weep bitter, agonizing tears of frustration and sorrow. He could never find sleep until his young handmaidens forced him to drink heavy amounts of alcohol to numb his mind.
There was only one solitary, haunting reason driving King Lazwar to this desperate grief.
Through profound, deep research conducted within his dark sorcery chambers, he uncovered a catastrophic truth: he was cursed to remain eternally childless, incapable of ever fathering an heir with any woman on earth, unless he successfully broke a powerful hex placed upon him by his sworn arch-enemy, King Darwazu.
Furthermore, the terms of the hex were brutally absolute: if he ever dared to intimately touch any female—even a common palace handmaiden—all the dark cosmic secrets of his sorcery would instantly vanish, his vast wealth would disintegrate, and he would be reduced to a completely destitute, penniless beggar.
For five uninterrupted years, King Lazwar lived in this state of severe, suffocating depression night and day.
Suddenly, one night, he let out a loud, piercing scream that dissolved into a manic, malevolent laugh. The booming sound of his laughter echoed violently throughout every corridor of the royal palace. This sudden outburst struck absolute shock and bewilderment into the hearts of everyone in the household, for it had been five long years since anyone had heard him express a single moment of joy.
What the palace household did not know was that a breakthrough had finally caused King Lazwar's laughter. On that very night, his dark arts revealed the precise, perilous method required to completely shatter King Darwazu's curse.
The first component he had to acquire was the tears of a legendary, monstrous leviathan dwelling within the perilous Forest of Darul-Shatir. This beast, known as Monster Murgazu, was a terrifying, supernatural entity that continuously slaughtered merchants and laid waste to the cities bordering the woods.
The second item was the mystical sorcery elixir of the ancient witch Lazira. Witch Lazira had spent two thousand uninterrupted years brewing this single potent elixir to fulfill her ultimate ambition: resurrecting her grandfather—the ancient king of sorcerers—from his tomb, so he could reveal the forbidden cosmic secrets she needed to rule the world.
The third element required was water drawn from the depths of the Ocean of Bahar-Dawa'u. Located in the far northwestern reaches of the world, this ocean was home to a malevolent colony of five thousand monstrous fish and sea serpents. The physical strength of a single one of these aquatic beasts surpassed that of an ordinary human being fifty times over.
The fourth artifact was the legendary cloak belonging to the historically supreme grand sorcerer of the world, Sorcerer Murkatul-Azab. Currently, this enchanted cloak was heavily guarded inside his sunken palace located deep beneath the floor of the Bahar-Maliya Sea. Sorcerers, witches, and seers across the globe unanimously agreed that no place on earth contained a higher concentration of lethal catastrophes and horrors than this sunken court.
The final element required was a exceptionally skilled female warrior known as Sharifa bintu Usman. Currently, Sharifa was living in absolute bondage beneath the Ottoman Empire in the city of Istanbul, forced to serve as a palace slave. Her parents had tragically lost their lives under the IRON YOKE OF SLAVERY within that very same palace. Slave Sharifa was the only soul in existence who possessed the unique destiny to help him successfully claim all the aforementioned mystical artifacts.
When King Lazwar witnessed this revelation, he was filled with an immeasurable, bounding joy. However, a jarring clause in the prophecy quickly troubled his mind. His dark arts clearly revealed that he could never simply approach Slave Sharifa and demand her assistance to break the curse; the cosmic conditions required him to completely strip himself of his royal status, transform himself into a common slave, and serve under the same empire in Istanbul for years alongside her.
To make matters even more complicated, there was no guarantee that Sharifa would ever agree to his request, considering she had lost all joy and hope in her life due to her trauma. Yet, as the wise elders say, "Fulfilling a desperate need surpasses holding a long ambition," and "Where there is life, destiny finds a way."
Without a moment's hesitation, he calculated the exact date he would journey out to hunt for the slave girl, Sharifa.

CHAPTER TWO

The following morning, at the break of dawn, King Lazwar began his extensive preparations to depart for the city of Istanbul. By the time the morning sun began to illuminate the sky, his entire entourage was fully prepared—ranging from his serving handmaidens and elite military guards to his personal slaves.
Back in the grand palace court, an immense crowd of citizens had gathered, packed so tightly together that there was absolutely no room to move. Everywhere one looked, a massive sea of human heads stretched out, looking like a sprawling swarm of ants. Every eye was glued to the royal dais, waiting anxiously for the king to emerge and announce who would be granted the regency of the realm during his absence.
For thirty tense seconds, the crowd waited in breathless silence. Suddenly, the melodic blare of royal brass horns accompanied by the heavy thud of traditional drums shattered the air.
From the inner court, King Lazwar emerged with his grand vanguard, dressed in magnificent, exceptionally luxurious royal attire that accentuated his powerful form. He marched straight to his throne, stood tall before the massive crowd, and cleared his throat before projecting his voice:
"O citizens of this blessed court of mine, know that today I embark on a monumental journey to retrieve the mystical items that will heal me from the dark hex placed upon me by my enemy, King Darwazu. Following the sacred traditions of this kingdom, the monarch alone chooses who shall wield the scepter of power in his absence. After deep analysis and spiritual calculation, I have found no one who will guard the sovereignty of this city with absolute integrity except the city's heir, Yasiran."
The moment King Lazwar concluded his speech, the crowd erupted into wild cheering and applause. The citizens celebrated joyfully, believing that their long endurance under King Lazwar's tyrannical rule had finally come to an end.
Alas! Truly, ignorance is darker than the dead of night. Had these unfortunate citizens known the true, sinister nature of Heir Yasiran, they would have prayed to have King Lazwar rule over them a hundred times over.
The moment Yasiran was formally placed upon the throne of power, King Lazwar opened his mouth and loudly chanted the name of his personal demonic jinn servant three times. The moment his voice faded, a colossal, terrifying entity ripped through the cloud cover and descended rapidly from the sky.
The gathering citizens fell into absolute panic, scattering frantically in all directions as if looking death itself in the face; some were so completely paralyzed with terror that they soiled their garments without even realizing it.
The jinn landed heavily on the earth, lowering its massive wings respectfully to the ground. The creature was a gargantuan monstrosity, built like a towering mountain. It possessed a misshapen, massive head carrying wide, blood-red eyes that glowed like hot coals. Its nose was enormous, with nostrils resembling industrial air vents, and its mouth gaped as wide as the opening of a deep well. Protruding from its torso were four massive, sweeping wings. Without a doubt, this jinn was an exceptionally hideous and terrifying sight to any living creature.
The entity bowed deeply, paying its respects to King Lazwar.
Lifting its massive head, it looked at the monarch with absolute obedience and spoke in a harsh, grating voice that sounded like the braying of a donkey: "O master of the world, I have answered your call. What is your desire, my leader?"
A deep wave of arrogance flooded King Lazwar's mind upon hearing the jinn address him as the master of the world. With DARK, SEVERE PRIDE, Lazwar commanded:
"O Za'aratun-Layal, know that I have summoned you here to transport me and my entire vanguard across the world on a monumental, exceptionally dangerous journey. Furthermore, I want you to know that this shall be your absolute final task for me; upon its completion, I shall permanently emancipate you from your IRON BONDAGE to my bloodline."
Upon hearing these words from King Lazwar, the jinn Za'aratun-Layal burst into a thunderous laugh of pure joy. The sheer acoustic force of his laughter triggered a massive, cataclysmic earthquake across the capital, causing structures to collapse and citizens to lose their lives. King Lazwar quickly delivered a sharp, furious shout to reprimand the beast. The jinn instantly snapped its mouth shut, and the tremors gradually subsided until the earth stabilized.
Without wasting a single moment, King Lazwar, his grand military general, his elite slaves, and his serving handmaidens climbed onto the massive back of Za'aratun-Layal, securing all their travel provisions and supplies.
The jinn Za'aratun-Layal lunged forward and surged into the sky, beating his massive wings as he rocketed past the cloud layer at a terrifying, blinding speed, resembling the flash of a passing comet. The citizens below waved their hands until the entourage vanished completely from sight.
They flew through the upper atmosphere for seven uninterrupted hours, cutting through the dense clouds at a furious pace.
As the eighth hour commenced, the jinn Za'aratun-Layal extended his wings, slowed his descent, and landed heavily on the earth. The area where they landed was a dark, dense forest that radiated a powerful aura of ancient dread. The moment they stepped into the woods, a cold shiver ran down the spine of every member of the entourage; they instinctively knew that something deeply malevolent lurked within the foliage.
While they were advancing cautiously, suddenly and completely out of nowhere, a lethal torrent of enchanted arrows rained down upon the forest. Despite the exceptional combat training of King Lazwar's elite guards, before they could even draw their shields, the opening volley slaughtered over a hundred warriors on the spot.
This sudden slaughter threw King Lazwar into a fit of fury. He rapidly chanted a series of defensive sorcery talismans, but to his utter shock, his magic dissolved instantly into harmless smoke.
This unexpected failure completely astonished him and rattled his confidence. Left with no other choice, he unsheathed his sword and scanned the surrounding forest with deep rage, looking for the source of the ambush.
Suddenly, a loud rustling echoed through the dense foliage to their flank. From the shadows of the trees emerged a remarkably beautiful young girl, approximately twelve years of age. She was mounted upon the back of a colossal, predatory leopard. She was dressed entirely in rugged leather armor—outfitted with a vest, trousers, and boots—and carried a massive, heavy sword strapped across her back, while holding a formidable recurve bow firmly in her hand.
A tense, silent standoff ensued between King Lazwar's forces and the young maiden.
For thirty long seconds, they locked eyes. Finally, King Lazwar shattered the heavy silence. Turning his gaze to the young girl with intense rage, he pointed the tip of his sword directly at her face and bellowed in a harsh voice:
"O you little wretch, what kind of absolute madness has driven you to commit such a treasonous crime against my forces? I demand you answer me before I forcefully rip the soul from your flesh and leave you to die a humiliating death!"
Instead of cowering, the beautiful young girl simply burst into a wicked, mocking laugh.
This reaction astonished the entire vanguard and infuriated them completely. It seemed utterly impossible that a young child could stand entirely alone against a massive army of battle-hardened warriors and show absolutely zero fear.
In an instant, the girl's face contorted into a serious, cold expression. She looked directly at King Lazwar and spoke in a sweet, melodic voice that sounded like the beautiful notes of a flute:
"O King Lazwar ibn Kaulat of the city of Zawatul-Ifdar, know that for more than five years, I have known your history. I knew with absolute certainty that you would make camp in this very forest during your great quest to find the artifacts required to heal yourself from the curse of King Darwazu."
Hearing these words from the young girl, King Lazwar was struck with immense astonishment. He stared at her and demanded, "How on earth do you know my true identity, and what exactly do you want from me?"
The girl replied, "Before his death, my father—the legendary hunter Murrasu—revealed your entire history to me. He foretold that you are the only entity on earth who can help me successfully locate and rescue my mother from her IRON BONDAGE within the city of Istanbul, after I assist you in locating the slave girl Sharifa, whom you seek to hunt within that very same city."
Upon hearing this revelation, King Lazwar's mind was blown.
He advanced toward her position on foot, halting when a distance of barely ten paces remained between them. Staring at her with profound curiosity, he asked, "O you miraculous girl, what is your story? And what crime brought your mother into slavery within the city of Istanbul?"
The moment he asked these questions, bitter tears began to stream down the young girl's face. This sight deeply puzzled King Lazwar, who wondered what intense trauma lay behind her tears.
Wiping her eyes, the girl spoke with an expression of deep sorrow:
"My name is Shuraiba bintu Murrasu. O Lazwar, know that when my father, the hunter Murrasu, was alive, he served as the grand master of the wardrobe for the Sultan of Istanbul. He was solely responsible for creating and maintaining the royal garments worn by the Sultan and the entire imperial household.
One morning, my father journeyed deep into the wilderness to hunt a rare, exotic beast whose pelt the Sultan required to fashion a unique royal cloak. He departed at dawn, but by the late afternoon, he had failed to return. My mother and I fell into a state of severe anxiety.
While we were waiting, suddenly and completely out of nowhere, we heard the loud trampling of warhorses outside our gates. Before we could even process the noise, the Sultan’s elite guards kicked through our doors, swarmed our home, and grabbed my mother by brute force, dragging her away into the night.
I broke into a desperate, agonizing scream, weeping as if my very soul was leaving my body. Late that night, my father finally returned from his hunt; his posture was completely broken, his eyes were drenched with tears, and his clothes were covered entirely in blood.
The moment he saw me in that traumatized state, he pulled me tightly into his chest and embraced me. Right there, both of us collapsed to the floor, weeping uncontrollably in a scene of pure heartbreak.
After a long time, my father finally pulled away. Without uttering a single word, he grabbed a leather supply bag, slung his recurve bow across his back, took me firmly by the hand, and led me out of the house. We marched through the city gates and plunged directly into the deep wilderness.
Every single day of our flight, I cried bitterly, begging my father to tell me where my mother had been taken. He would simply hold me and comfort me, promising that nothing bad had happened to her and that she would eventually return to us in perfect health.
My father hid the brutal truth from me solely because I was a young, innocent child who could not comprehend the horrors of the world. It was only after I grew older that he finally revealed the severe tyranny the Sultan had inflicted upon him: the Sultan had forcefully transformed my mother into a palace sex slave. It was the absolute law of that tyrannical Sultan that any woman who caught his eye—regardless of whether she was already another man's wife—would be violently abducted and forced into his harem.
The deep, consuming grief of losing my mother eventually triggered a terminal, wasting illness within my father.
On the night of his death, he passed down his legendary recurve bow and all his specialized hunting gear to me, after revealing all the hidden tactical secrets of the city of Istanbul and the vulnerabilities of Sultan Ladiyas himself. He also gave me your entire history, O Lazwar.
Since the night of his passing, I swore a sacred oath to rescue my mother from the clutches of Sultan Ladiyas at all costs. Night and day, I have lived a life of isolation and sorrow in these woods, with no companion to ease my loneliness save for this predatory leopard, which I inherited from my father."
When the beautiful young girl concluded her tragic tale, she broke into a deep, chest-heaving cry that would move any human heart to tears.
To King Lazwar's absolute amazement, he noticed that even the massive leopard the girl was riding had tears streaming down its face. This sight moved King Lazwar and his entire vanguard to profound empathy; even the jinn Za'aratun-Layal, despite his demonic nature, let out a tear due to the sheer tragedy of her story.
King Lazwar looked intently at Shuraiba and vowed, "O you miraculous girl, your history is indeed filled with profound tragedy, and Sultan Ladiyas is clearly a black-hearted TYRANT. I give you my absolute royal word that I will assist you until you achieve your ultimate ambition of reuniting with your mother and extracting your vengeance against Sultan Ladiyas."
Hearing this, Shuraiba was filled with an immeasurable, bounding joy.
Without wasting any time, the vanguard established a secure base camp. The handmaidens immediately set to work cooking a hot meal, and after everyone had eaten and rested, the entire entourage—now joined by the young girl Shuraiba and her predatory leopard—climbed back onto the back of the jinn Za'aratun-Layal to resume their journey.
While they were flying through the sky, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, a massive battalion of elite jinn warriors materialized directly on their horizon. They were armed with terrifying, exotic weapons the likes of which human eyes had never seen, and were fully arrayed in magnificent, imposing battle armor. The size of this hostile army exceeded a thousand warriors.
King Lazwar's vanguard panicked completely, with several soldiers so thoroughly paralyzed with terror that they soiled their garments. King Lazwar alone maintained his composure through sheer willpower, refusing to show fear like a true sovereign, though his heart pounded frantically.
Even the jinn Za'aratun-Layal was completely stunned; in all his centuries of existence, he had never seen or heard of a jinn army that carried such a terrifying and imposing aura.
A tense, silent standoff ensued between the two forces for thirty seconds. Finally, a hideous, imposing figure among the hostile jinn—who was clearly their commander—opened his massive jaws and spoke in a harsh, terrifying voice:
"O you common mortals, know that I have not marched here with my army of warriors to wage war against you. We have come solely for you to hand over the young girl Shuraiba. We must deliver her to our grand monarch, King Zammar, so he may slaughter her and harvest her blood to create a cure for our wives, who have been afflicted with a curse of absolute blindness for over fifty years.
Know this, mortals: if you choose to be stubborn and refuse to hand Shuraiba over to us, I guarantee that not a single one of you will remain alive for more than ten seconds."
Hearing this ultimatum from the jinn commander, King Lazwar gathered his courage, cut him off with a thunderous shout, and countered:
"O you common insect, your boast is completely empty! You have made a severe error in judgment if you think you possess the power to separate us from Shuraiba. I command you to withdraw your pathetic warriors immediately and return to your cowardly king. Tell him that the edge of a deep well is no place for a child's game!"
Before King Lazwar could even finish his sentence, the bodies of the hostile jinn began to shake with a violent, demonic fury. They let out a raw, blood-curdling war cry and charged forward.
Seeing the onslaught, King Lazwar's forces drew their weapons, and the sky transformed into a brutal, horrific battlefield filled with absolute chaos.
Alas! Truly, a catastrophe gives no advance warning, and anyone who has ever stepped onto a battlefield knows the true definition of horror. The air was instantly filled with the deafening clang of steel against steel and the desperate roars of both jinn and men. Whenever the weapons of the two factions collided, massive streaks of lightning and deafening cracks of thunder ripped through the sky, as if the heavens themselves were about to burst with rain.
Right from the opening clash, an extraordinary event unfolded: the young girl Shuraiba transformed into an insurmountable obstacle and a total nightmare for the jinn army. Wherever she navigated her mount on the battlefield, the hostile jinn dropped to the earth as corpses.
Meanwhile, back in his grand fadar, King Zammar was watching this entire brutal conflict unfold through his mystical scrying mirror. When he witnessed his entire vanguard being systematically slaughtered by King Lazwar's forces, his heart filled with an immeasurable, burning rage. He steeled his body and let out a raw, desperate scream of fury.
Back on the battlefield, after successfully wiping out King Zammar's jinn army, King Lazwar's remaining men began administering medicine to their wounds. The victory had come at a heavy cost: they had lost at least two hundred and twenty elite warriors in the clash.
Once the situation stabilized, they wasted no time, gathering their positions to resume their journey across the sky.
As they flew onward, a warm conversation sparked between the young girl Shuraiba and the ancient jinn Za'aratun-Layal.
Shuraiba looked at the massive entity, cleared her throat, and said, "O ancient jinn, if it wouldn't trouble you, I would highly love to ask you a question."
Hearing this, Za'aratun-Layal replied, "Speak your question, O Shuraiba..."

2. Structural Analysis & Literary Commentary

A. The Symmetrical Anatomy of the Curse

The text establishes a profound narrative drive by linking political power with personal biological lack. King Lazwar's curse is governed by a strict, symmetrical mathematical equation of loss:
This structural setup introduces high narrative tension: the protagonist must maneuver through a high-fantasy landscape while completely stripped of his magical and imperial advantages, introducing a classic "hidden king" or "underdog" archetype.

B. The Structural Catalyst: The Quest Blueprint

To restore his lineage, the protagonist must gather a series of five highly specific elements. This establishes a clear narrative framework for the entire book series:

C. Style, Diction, and Rhetoric

Mansur Usman Sufi utilizes standard classical Hausa epic tropes to heighten the tension of the scene:

• Bakin rijiya ba wajen wasan yaro ba ne: (The edge of a well is no place for a child's game) is a traditional Hausa proverb used tactically by King Lazwar to assert dominance and signal that his forces are not to be trifled with.
• Baƙar Izza: (Dark/Severe Pride) defines the moral ambiguity of the protagonist. He is not a traditional "good" hero; he is a tyrant seeking a cure, forced into an alliance with an innocent victim (Shuraiba), adding psychological complexity to the plot.