Wherever the king of hunters may be, urge him to come forth,

though I lack it, let me ascertain my whereabouts,” he said.

Even as he spoke, the sorcerer raised his hand and drew out a magical mirror from his pocket. Placing it before the king, he touched the mirror with his left hand, invoking its powers. The mirror shimmered, revealing what the king desired to see. But soon, darkness enveloped the reflection, obscuring everything from view.

Boka Daizun let out a sigh and spoke, “Indeed, the king of hunters has once again deceived you. He must have put his trust in this Hatyan boy and his niece, who have managed to elude capture. The king, overwhelmed by sorrow, shouted in frustration, his voice echoing with despair. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving like a wounded beast.

“But it is my trust in you that remains unshaken,” he continued, his voice trembling. “I will hunt down this boy myself, and I shall not rest until he is slain. I fear that my kingdom will crumble under the threat of war. Your assistance is all that I seek. I implore you to summon your demons, numbering five hundred, and dispatch my messengers to every corner of this continent, delivering letters adorned with images and a map of Hatyan and his sister.

“In each missive, I will offer a handsome reward to anyone who captures them, and I desire detailed depictions of the capital city and any villages where they may be found. Arkukuku must not escape our grasp, and I am willing to bestow great wealth upon those who succeed.”

The sorceress, despite the malicious grin that crept across her face, responded, “My Lord, you have indeed devised a cunning plan. This is the perfect way to halt the escape of your daughter from this continent. Soon, they will be within your clutches once more. Your mind is truly sharp, foreseeing every outcome.”

Fuelled by this provocation, King Shamsal’s spirits were uplifted, and he began to chuckle with glee. Without wasting another moment, he sent a messenger to summon Satyan and another skilled artist. Upon their arrival, he instructed the artist to sketch the visages of Hatyan and his sister Sadirat. In no time, the artist completed the drawings, capturing their likeness with great precision.

Then, the sorcerer cast a spell on a sheet of paper, causing it to disintegrate into countless pieces. The messengers were gathered, and the torn fragments were distributed among them, along with the letters and images. These demons, summoned by the sorcerer, embarked on their journey, traversing all the countries of the continent.


In a single day, Prince Zainur’s condition improved significantly. The twenty-one patients who had suffered from his touch miraculously recovered their strength.

As he gazed upon his helmet once more, he reminisced about his failed attempt at violating Abirin. Overwhelmed with sadness, tears streamed down his face.

The western part of Bindal City found solace, relieved that Prince Zainur would no longer prey upon women, not even the prostitutes. His desires had evaporated, and his only aspiration now was to capture Hatyan and his daughter, Sadirat. He pledged to sell them off as soon as they were apprehended, satisfying his vengeful desires. With his healthy hand, he motioned as if cutting off the right hand of his opponent.

Prince Zainur would bide his time until midday, when this fantasy of his would come to fruition, just like the one he had previously envisioned.