Part 4: Simulation of As-Sa’ah in the Klang Valley

When Allah made a promise in Surah Saba’ that He could send down “kisfan” from the sky, but did not unleash it upon the people of Saba’ at that time — does that mean the promise was cancelled?

No. That promise was merely delayed.

Today, we stand upon land that once bore witness to devastation. This land does not forget. Nor does the sky. And that promise — is now drawing near.

Sky Sends Its Signal

It began like any ordinary day. Blue skies. People smiling at their phone screens. The streets of Kuala Lumpur jammed with worldly affairs. No one suspected that the sky was harbouring something that would dismantle the entire system.

Suddenly, global space agencies issued an emergency alert. A massive meteor shower was approaching Earth. Unexpected. Undetected in advance. It came too fast. Originating from the west, this meteor carried heavy metals, blazing gases, and a fiery tail streaking across the sky from one horizon to the other.

As the main body of the meteor neared the East, its tail still stretched across the West. The sky turned red. The earth trembled. Heat surged. Birds flew in confusion. Animals lost their paths. Humans froze in place. That — was the moment kisfan had descended from the heavens.

أَفَلَمْ يَرَوْا۟ إِلَىٰ مَا بَيْنَ أَيْدِيهِمْ وَمَا خَلْفَهُم مِّنَ ٱلسَّمَآءِ وَٱلْأَرْضِ ۚ إِن نَّشَأْ نَخْسِفْ بِهِمُ ٱلْأَرْضَ أَوْ نُسْقِطْ عَلَيْهِمْ كِسَفًۭا مِّنَ ٱلسَّمَآءِ ۚ إِنَّ فِى ذَٰلِكَ لَـَٔايَةًۭ لِّكُلِّ عَبْدٍۢ مُّنِيبٍۢ

“Do they not see what is before them and behind them of the sky and the earth? If We will, We could cause the earth to swallow them or cause fragments from the sky to fall upon them. Indeed in that is a sign for every servant who turns to Allah.”

(Surah Saba’, 34:9)

Not all meteors burned up in the atmosphere. Some pierced through. Some crashed into the Andaman Sea. Others fell into the South China Sea. And a few struck land, shaking the earth and redrawing the map of the Nusantara — and beyond.

Kisfan Once Delayed, Has Now Descended

Once, Allah restrained the kisfan. He held back the sky from destroying us.

He gave time. The days we called normal were actually borrowed time. Every sunrise we witnessed, every peaceful sleep — all were delayed moments of As-Sa’ah. A ticking clock edging closer to its final chime.

He gave sustenance. Every blessing we enjoyed was a final chance to return to His path — before the skies cracked open and the earth split beneath us. But we were heedless. We believed “tomorrow will still come.”

He gave warnings. Volcanoes reawakened. Ocean temperatures surged. Earthquakes struck regions that had never trembled. Yet we dismissed these as mere natural phenomena. We forgot that nature too obeys God — and when the heavens are commanded, the earth responds.

Kisfan Is the Trigger of As-Sa’ah

As-Sa’ah is not just the final Hour. It is any moment of destruction — whether personal (death), communal (destruction of a people), or civilisational (mass punishment like Saba’, Aad, and Thamud).

And kisfan is one of its triggers.

When kisfan falls, fragments from the sky enter our realm, and the earth reacts. This isn’t just science. It is a divine encounter — a prewritten collision between the sky and the earth.

The sky sends its signal. The earth releases its fury. And when the two align — As-Sa’ah begins.

Earthquake and Tsunami from Two Fronts

Undersea eruptions triggered a ferocious tsunami. Malaysia’s western coast — from Langkawi to Port Dickson — vanished under walls of white water, swallowing buildings, people, and all man-made order.

At the same time, tremors from the Andaman Sea reverberated through the Titiwangsa Range. The quartz ridges — long thought unbreakable — began to crack. Janda Baik, Bentong, and Genting Highlands experienced aftershocks.

Beneath them, nestled within the mountain bedrock, sat two colossal dams:

• Batu Dam (30 billion litres)

• Klang Gates Dam (25 billion litres)

Now fractured — and then, they burst.

No sirens. No warning.

As people scrolled their phones, the roar arrived — water from above and water from below, united in divine decree, ready to drown Kuala Lumpur and punish its heedless inhabitants.

Kuala Lumpur Becomes Kota Lumpur

In less than an hour, Malaysia’s heart — Kuala Lumpur — vanished from maps.

The torrent from Batu Dam began its rampage: through Selayang, Batu Caves, Kampung Batu, Sentul, PWTC, and Masjid Jamek. Nothing stood in its path. Homes crumbled. Cars floated like toys. Markets and mosques alike vanished under the surge.

Simultaneously, Klang Gates Dam released its fury. Water cascaded through Taman Melawati, swept past Zoo Negara, tore apart the MRR2 highways, and turned Keramat and Ampang into rivers. KLCC — once a symbol of pride — became a water gauge, a last refuge that ultimately failed.

These twin rivers — Batu and Klang — converged at Masjid Jamek and Dataran Merdeka. The nation’s symbolic centre became a whirlpool of death.

Water didn’t flow — it hunted. Like a maddened beast, it surged toward KL Sentral, submerging trains, tracks, and escape routes.

Mid Valley turned into a giant grave. Underground car parks became tombs. Elevators trapped and drowned dozens.

Petaling Jaya, Puchong, Taman Sri Muda — all consumed, one by one.

Shah Alam fell, its universities, schools, and stadiums erased.
Klang was the final station — where land met sea — now indistinguishable.

10–15 storey buildings disappeared.
Even rooftops offered no salvation.
No helicopters. No police. No ambulances. No “Breaking News.”
Only darkness, water... and death.

And worse — those still alive were left alone with their guilt. With their grief. And with no place left to pray.

Kuala Lumpur was no longer a capital city. It became a graveyard of mud — a second Saba’.

Broken Lifelines

As water engulfed the city, every system collapsed alongside it. The very networks we relied on — pipes, cables, grids, towers, apps, servers — all failed.

Bridges collapsed one by one. Under them ran massive pipes that supplied treated water — the lifeline of millions. With bridges gone, traffic was not the only thing cut off — so was clean water. No more taps. No more tanks. Mosque ablution pools emptied. Water filters became useless kitchen ornaments.

Electric poles fell like dominoes. Some snapped from structural failure, others swallowed by water. The entire Klang Valley’s power grid went dark. No lights. No refrigerators. No televisions. No fans. No ATMs. No payment terminals. No hope.

Smartphones — the pinnacle of our lifestyle — became dead metal in our pockets. Batteries drained to 2%. No sockets to charge. No signal. No Wi-Fi. No way to call for help.

Only one message remained on the screen:

“Ya Allah…”

And that message hung there… forever.

Telecom towers? Gone. Washed away or crumbled. No radio. No emergency broadcasts. Silence swallowed everything.

Gas stations shut down. No electricity to pump. No tankers could reach the disaster zone. Roads shattered. Bridges erased. Fuel delivery? Impossible. Hospital generators lasted 72 hours — then silence. The city would remain dark… and darker still with time.

And then, the water turned foul.

Bodies emerged — tangled in drains, trapped on rooftops, pinned under debris. Bloated corpses of men, women, and children. Rotting carcasses of dogs, cats, cows. The river became a black, boiling broth of decay.

Desperate for water, survivors turned to ponds and lakes — only to find poison. The stagnant pools were laced with sewage, blood, and bacteria. Diarrhoea and fevers spread. Disease began its conquest before any help could arrive.

Hospitals? Destroyed. Doctors drowned. Nurses missing. Medicine washed away. Power gone. Machines dead. Patients died in silence, unable to call for help.

Data centres?

Worthless.

Disaster-proof? Flood-proof? Earthquake-resistant? All fell when the ground itself was ripped apart by the force of a terrestrial tsunami. Entire national databases — finance, defence, identity, civil records — vanished into muddy oblivion.

All that was planned — FAILED.

And now, humans stood atop the ruins of their world, staring at a silent sky, asking…

“Is this how Klang Valley ends? Is this how we are judged?”

The Living Trapped, The Dead Scattered

You might have survived. But you survived in a world that had died.

Roofs stood. Floors cracked. Stairs collapsed. Doors jammed. Beyond them — only water… and death.

Families torn apart. Voices lost mid-scream. Children ripped from mothers’ arms. No time for goodbyes. Some were never found again — swallowed by water, lost without a grave.

Children cried. Eyes blank. Voices hoarse. Clothes torn. Some clung to mothers who had already passed. Others sat shivering, chewing on their sleeves — lost and alone.

Women screamed. Husbands missing. Children dead. Bloodied and wounded. No bandages. No antiseptic. No clean water. Only sobs — drowned out by the stench of corpses and wet earth.

The elderly lay still. Unable to move. Unable to run. Unable to speak. Eyes fixed on the sky — waiting for death to come in quiet resignation.

Once-crowded roads were now littered with corpses. Stuck on railings. Floating in puddles. Trapped in elevators — suffocating slowly. The smell? Beyond horror. It became a trauma that scarred minds forever.

Tears wouldn’t stop. Then, silence. Then… stillness.

Food? A single biscuit in the drawer. A handful of uncooked rice. A cup of rainwater from a cracked basin. No stove. No gas. No aid.

Police? Dead or missing. Soldiers? Vehicles couldn’t cross fallen bridges.

Leaders? Gone. No control. No plans. No orders. No government. No more politics. No more speeches. No more press conferences.

Only one thing remained: the realisation that Allah’s warning had come — and we ignored it.

يَـٰٓأَيُّهَا ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ ٱصْبِرُوا۟ وَصَابِرُوا۟ وَرَابِطُوا۟ وَٱتَّقُوا۟ ٱللَّهَ لَعَلَّكُمْ تُفْلِحُونَ

“O you who believe! Be patient, and endure, and remain stationed (at your frontiers), and fear Allah — so that you may be successful.”

(Ali 'Imran 3:200)

This Simulation Is Not a Baseless Prediction

This is not fiction. It is based on geology, hydrology, dam structures, fault lines, and tectonic instability.

When Allah gives the signal — all of it can crumble.

وَإِن مِّن قَرْيَةٍ إِلَّا نَحْنُ مُهْلِكُوهَا قَبْلَ يَوْمِ ٱلْقِيَـٰمَةِ أَوْ مُعَذِّبُوهَا عَذَابًۭا شَدِيدًۭا ۚ كَانَ ذَٰلِكَ فِى ٱلْكِتَـٰبِ مَسْطُورًۭا

“And there is no city but that We will destroy it before the Day of Resurrection or punish it with a severe punishment. That has been inscribed in the Book.”

(Surah Al-Isra’, 17:58)

Kuala Lumpur — one of Southeast Asia’s densest cities — is built between two rivers, two dams, two mountains… and one looming judgment.

One day, it will no longer be called Kuala Lumpur.

But remembered as Kota Lumpur — the Mud City.

As-Sa’ah: The Cataclysm Before the Black Banners Rise

This is what was mentioned in Part 3 — that before the Black Banners rise from the East, this ummah will first experience a great collapse.

As-Sa’ah in the Nusantara is not merely the end of the world. It is the moment of destruction — physical, social, and spiritual. A cleansing for those chosen to continue the mission of the end times.

This is the flood before the ark. The fire before the revival. The thunder before the call.

It is the collapse of an era… to make way for a new one.

And what will rise from the ruins is not just survivors — but the remnants of faith, the ones who held on to the rope of Allah even as the world around them burned and drowned.

The Tears Are No Longer Just in the Heart

Tears can no longer be held back. Eyes weep not out of sadness alone — but because everything the Qur’an warned about is happening before their very eyes.

وَمَا خَلَقْنَا ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَٱلْأَرْضَ وَمَا بَيْنَهُمَآ إِلَّا بِٱلْحَقِّ ۗ وَإِنَّ ٱلسَّاعَةَ لَـَٔاتِيَةٌۭ ۖ فَٱصْفَحِ ٱلصَّفْحَ ٱلْجَمِيلَ

“And We did not create the heavens and the earth and what is between them except in truth. And indeed, As-Sa’ah will surely come. So forgive with gracious forgiveness.”

(Surah Al-Hijr, 15:85)

That moment… has arrived.

Let us not wait any longer.

Return to Allah.