NOVGO.NET Chapter 352: The Hollow King
Chapter 352: The Hollow King
***
{Outside The Projection}
While Malik was off going to Hell—or, well, somewhere far worse—those on Fam Iblis slowly returned to… function.
A fair amount of time had passed since they heard ’His’ words. Since their bodies collapsed and their minds flat-out broke. But thank the heavens, nothing permanent happened.
They were good… more or less.
Especially those in the hall.
None of them could even begin to imagine what Malik was feeling, standing face-to-face with… that.
’Fog’ or not… that was not a being anyone should ever face.
Not directly or indirectly, and not in any lifetime.
The mere memory of ’His’ voice made them tremble.
But anyway, the collective healing worked out. Even those whose minds were shattered into dust were now fine. Healed. Whole. Again, maybe even better than before.
And that… that included Roya.
Just as the hall was beginning to adapt, trying to normalize what had happened, Roya’s camp walked in.
Every single one of them was dressed in black, mourning clothes perhaps.
Their heads were down, their eyes empty, and without saying a word, without glancing at anyone in the hall, they went straight to the top left corner, in front of the still-blank projection.
They sat down, their knees on the floor, and faced the Sultan’s throne.
Their heads remained lowered, their mouths shut.
None of them said a word.
Huda watched them for a moment, shrugged, and then walked over.
At her approach, Roya finally looked up, her blue eyes dull.
They held no cold or fire or even venom.
“What is it?”
Her question was much the same, flat.
Huda raised a brow and looked down at her.
“…Nothing.”
She glanced back at Layla and Safira, who both just stood there, still speechless, then back at Roya.
“…Did you get broken that bad?”
Roya, for the first time in… maybe ever, didn’t clap back.
She didn’t even scoff or throw a subtle jab.
“I will wait.”
She just revealed her intentions, straight and honest, two words no one ever thought would describe any action of hers.
“Wait until Malik either dies… or survives. I now understand… I can never predict his plans. I won’t even try. So, not to embarrass myself any further, I’ll remain here, as such, until the end.”
Her breath slowed a tad.
“If he survives… I’ll ask him to spare me. If he dies… I’ll mourn the death of a good man. That is all.”
Huda scoffed and shook her head.
“Even defeated… you’re still a bitch.”
“…”
Roya didn’t hit back, only stared at her.
Clicking her tongue, Huda turned and walked off.
It seemed like even when broken, some things couldn’t change.
A few people in the crowd glanced toward Roya—some with pity. Maybe feeling guilty about how they treated her earlier.
But most… most didn’t care.
Not when the projection was right there, waiting.
Because the only thing anyone cared about right now…
Was him.
Malik.
Their Sultan.
And finally… it flickered.
It glitched, spasmed, and lit up.
A mechanical, broken voice echoed:
{…Processing…Processing…WARNING…}
{…The Sultan’s… Trial… Lasted… MILLIONS… OF… YEARS…}
{…You…The…People…Are…NOT…WORTHY…TO…Witness…ALL…OF…IT…}
{…Even…I…Cannot…Handle…Displaying…Much…Of…It…}
{…Displaying…A…Snippet…Only…}
{…}
{…}
{…}
{…Witness his glory.}
The projection glowed…
And the scene began to form.
***
{Inside The Projection}
A throne room.
One of bone, flesh, and steel twisted into jagged forms.
Screaming faces etched into the walls, some still moving, begging for a release.
And on that throne—if you could call it that—sat… him.
Malik.
Patches of Corruption covered him, rough, diseased, and oozing, with veins of black pumping under his skin. His body was beyond withered and gaunt. Dried up like an old carcass left under the desert Shams. His ribs stuck out. His spine was twisted wrong.
His face…
God.
His face was a canvas of scars. Deep lines carved under both eyes, like someone dug their nails in and dragged down until flesh tore. His lips were cracked and bleeding. Nails were jammed into his arms, his thighs, even his neck—some fresh, some rusted over.
His golden hair was gone. Mostly. What remained was thin, stringy, and dead. Gray in some parts, pure white in others. Whole chunks of scalp were just… missing.
He wore a crown, and it wasn’t gold. No… far from that.
It was a ring of bent bones hammered into his skull.
And his eyes.
The eyes were familiar.
Black voids… bottomless, infinite pits swirling with Corruption.
A grin was carved onto his mouth, not by muscle, but by scar tissue.
His face was locked in a forever smile, laughing, crying…. Dying.
And he sat there, slouched, legs spread out, fingers twitching. One moment skinning himself with cracked nails, his blood mixing with black sludge, and the next screaming at nothing, at everyone, at himself.
“UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY…!”
A raving lunatic, a king of ruin.
“UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY…UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY…UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY… UNWORTHY…!”
His head jerked side to side as if something tugged on it hard.
“I DIED! I DIED FOR YOU! FOR THEM! FOR ALL OF THEM!!”
His voice cracked into laughter halfway through.
“AND FOR WHAT?!”
Fists slammed into the throne, cracking steel.
“THEY FORGOT. THEY FORGOT. THEY FORGOT. THEY FORGOT!”
Spatters of spit, drool hanging from torn lips, his teeth chattering even as he grinned.
“I BLED. I BROKE. I BEGGED. I BEGGED. I CLAWED. I SCREAMED. I DROWNED. I BURNED. I BURNED. I BURNED—!”
Fists to his chest, slamming over and over. His ribs had long since snapped, but he didn’t feel it… or maybe he did, and he liked it.
“AND THEY FORGOT!”
His head jerked back.
“LIKE I WAS NEVER THERE. LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED.”
His eyes darted, looking at nothing, looking at everything…
“UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY!!”
At memories.
“I CARRIED THEM. I DRAGGED THEM. I BLED FOR THEM. I DIED FOR THEM.”
He staggered forward, hands gripping his own throat now.
Strangling himself, then letting go, then laughing, then crying.
“OVER AND OVER, OVER AND OVER, OVER AND OVER, OVER AND OVER.”
His head pounded against his fist, a crack after crack, more blood pouring down his face.
“MILLIONS. BILLIONS. TRILLIONS. UNFATHOMABLE YEARS OF DEATH.”
He trembled.
“UNFATHOMABLE.”
He whispered, then screamed.
“EVERYTIME!WAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIEWAKEUPDIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!”
His hands returned to tearing at his own skin, pulling pieces off, nails scraping down his chest until flesh hung loose.
“AND THEY—”
His grin twitched wider.
“—THEY FORGOT ME.”
A giggle. A laugh. A howl. A sob.
“My name. My face. My voice. Gone. Gone. Gone.”
He staggered, his body convulsing from the pain.
“I SCREAMED FOR THEM. I CALLED THEM. I BEGGED. PLEASE REMEMBER. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE.”
His fist slammed. Again. Again. Again.
“BUT THEY—”
THUD!
“—DIDN’T—”
THUD!
“—HEAR—”
THUD!
“—ME!”
Then suddenly, he went still.
“Unworthy… unworthy… unworthy… unworthy…”
Over. And over. And over.
“All for them… all for them… all for them… all for them…”
A tremor in his breath.
“AND WHAT DID THEY DO?!”
He pulled out a bone from his skull and sent it shattering into the floor.
“WHAT DID THEY DO?! WHAT DID THEY DO?! WHAT DID THEY DO?!”
His mouth trembled into that carved smile.
“THEY FORGOT.”
A whisper now… weak, broken, and defeated.
“They forgot me…”
His breath was ragged, his chest heaving.
Then, finally, his head whipped directly in front of him.
Toward a figure.
A familiar one.
It was Malik.
…Another Malik.
“BUT YOU… YOU REMEMBER NOW, DON’T YOU?”
A chuckle bubbled out like bile.
“You have to. You have to. You HAVE to.”
And again—
“UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY. UNWORTHY!!!”
He tore at his own throat.
“YOU LEFT ME HERE!!”
He shrieked and snarled.
“YOU LEFT ME HERE.”
This Malik before him was bound.
Dark scrawled across his skin, lines, glyphs, chains of pure black ink that pulsed with every breath. They wrapped around his arms, legs, and neck, locking him in place.
He couldn’t move a muscle.
All he could do…
“WELCOME… ME.”
Was watch.
The Fallen Malik cackled.
“LOOK AT US! LOOK AT WHAT WE BECAME!”
Then it began.
His companions… his cohort.
They were dragged forward, one by one.
A spear rammed through a man’s chest, his body reeled into the dark.
Another had his head crushed between palms of black, a loud pop resounding.
Another. Another. Another. Their bodies absorbed into what rejected light.
There was nothing that they could do, for they were already dead.
The Fallen Malik tore through them while screaming at the voices in his head.
At Malik himself.
And Malik.
He watched…
Watched until the last one remained.
His first companion, a pale woman with long black hair.
A familiar woman… a flower that had fully bloomed, one that was still alive.
Her hands were shaking, skin already cracking, black veins spreading.
The Corruption was eating her fast.
But even then… she smiled.
“This is… all I can give… to free you…”
She whispered, broken but proud.
“Beyond Zero.”
Her body collapsed forward, her soul spent on something… desperate.
That ’something’ clicked a moment later.
BOOM.
The chains, glyphs, and lines shattered.
Their existence itself was frozen.
Malik instantly exploded forward.
“You are king of nothing.”
His fist crashed into the “King of Nothing’s” face, flinging him across the throne room.
Malik didn’t chase; he turned around, fell to his knees, and grabbed the dying flower.
He pulled her close, held her tight, and whispered:
“Thank you.”
Malik patted her head and softly kissed it.
Slowly, he dragged her into his embrace, as his right hand closed around her throat while his left stroked her hair…
His right hand squeezed.
Her eyes widened, lips trembling.
Malik was moments from killing her.
But she didn’t fight or pull away.
She knew…
She knew what was happening.
The black was crawling faster now, her skin bubbling, veins bursting, Corruption turning her muscles into something… else.
IT was upon her.
Death was her better ending.
Her life was on borrowed time anyway.
“…I …love… you… hubby.”
Malik’s muscles tightened at her whisper.
And with a loud snap, her neck broke.
Her body went limp.
She died.
By his own hands.
…Once more.
It was the only way.
A rule that he was given.
Slowly, Malik stood up.
His neck cracked as he rolled it side to side.
His eyes lifted, and across the room…
“I like it… call me the Hollow King.”
The Hollow King stood.
Grinning, bleeding, twitching…
Waiting.
A Malik of Corruption.
A Malik of grey.
Face-to-face.
Only one would leave alive.
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