Kazeem already knew what was about to happen, but seeing the old woman once again still made his blood boil.

  Calm down, now is not the time, he thought.

  He decided to calm his anger and acted frightened, trying to reenact how he was at the first loop. Being not really expressive by nature, it wasn’t an arduous task.

  Watching the frightened teenager in front of her, Old Meza soon regained her composure. However, the chill on her back didn’t settle, and the reason was simple. The eyes of the young man made her incredibly uncomfortable. Under them she felt like she couldn’t hide anything. The amber color was giving her goosebumps, so much so that she quickly turned around and started to walk in the direction of the forest.

  Kazeem felt the same shackle again, lighter than those restraining him in the scenes but still suffocating. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t look away, he could only walk and follow the old witch.

  However, Kazeem wasn’t panicked. He was staring at Old Meza’s back, observing all her movements. He started to study her:

  She put a lot of weight on that cane.

  She seems to have back pain with the way she walks.

  She could’ve avoided this little rock, but instead she almost tripped on it. Does she have problems with her eyes?

  She breathes pretty loudly… I guess being an old bitch has its disadvantages. Heh, who would’ve thought? He would be smirking if his face wasn’t frozen. Kazeem started to diss her in his mind to ignore the powerlessness the situation made him feel. Soon the only thing he could feel was contempt.

  The unsettling feeling Old Meza had since their encounter didn’t disappear but instead intensified. This made her advance quicker than usual, making it easy for Kazeem to catch her old habits.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She was walking silently, but her mind was full of thoughts.

  Kazeem, right? He is the son of Zokou. Tchrr, the Zad family have always been weird, but who would’ve thought that their son would be the weirdest? First of all, what are those eyes? Is it how you look at your elder? I wanted to take the mask from you and let you go to avoid conflict with your parents, but now? You are going to be another cannon fodder. And if things go wrong? I will just hide behind the elder council. Let's see what your parents do about it.

  Almost near the forest the feeling grew stronger again, too strong for her to ignore. She finally stopped, her back still turned to Kazeem.

  Is he also a spirit watcher? If so why didn’t he resist at least a little bit? Also he is too calm for someone who just experienced this technique for the first time. Better be safe than sorry, she thought.

  She suddenly ignited her cane with purple flames and swung it at Kazeem to knock him out. She could’ve used a gentler technique, but the uncomfortable feeling she felt because of him made her want to “teach him a lesson”.

  As the cane approached Kazeem’s head she made eye contact with him one last time. And it made her drastically change her actions.

  What she saw wasn’t surprise or fear.

  But disgust and disdain.

  Pure disdain.

  Seeing those eyes mocking her made her fall into an uncontrollable rage. They were looking down on her. She was used to people avoiding her. People who looked at her did so with fear, jealousy, or worship. But in front of this weird teenager all those achievements seemed to be nothing. Her reputation built was meaningless. The power she had and the price she had to pay felt vain. He looked at her like a piece of crap lying on the road, something she could never accept. Especially from someone less than a third of her age.

  The light strike meant to make Kazeem pass out transformed into a lethal strike, the flame raging hotter and darker than before.

  Time again seemed to slow down. Kazeem could clearly see the purple flame change color slightly; the heat wave made his eyes squint.

  Heh, this old bitch really wants to kill me, huh. Even though he knew his father would save him, being this close to death was still nerve-wracking. He still tried to grasp everything he could.

  He felt the “shackles” on him disappearing. The mark on his back evaporating.

  Then he felt Zokou’s hand on his collar like last time and:

  BOOM!

  ~~~~~~~

  Sometimes the most dangerous insult is not spoken — it is seen.