NOVGO.NET Chapter 361: You Will No Longer Return
Chapter 361: You Will No Longer Return
***
{Outside The Projection}
“…Huh?”
“…Wait… what?”
“…Eh???”
That was pretty much the reaction.
The entire hall. The world. Mortals. Magi. Nadhirs. Jinns. Mithqals. Nobels. Royals. Nobodies. Everybody. Blank faces. Mouths half-open. Neck twisted sideways like they misheard something major about life itself and only now had discovered the truth.
“Did… did that actually just happen?”
“Brother… brother… HE WON—right?”
“YEAH, HE WON!”
“HE WONNNN!”
“AFTER TWELVE DAYS OF FIGHTING!”
“AFTER RESETTING LIKE THOUSANDS OF TIMES!”
“HE DID IT!”
Screams.
Cheers.
Shock.
But then…
Silence.
Because—wait. WAIT.
“…Why the Hell did he let him GO?”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ’I LOST’?”
“NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT?”
“AFTER ALL THAT? AFTER BREAKING HIS NECK?”
“AFTER USING THE SAME TECHNIQUE THAT DID HIM IN, IN THE NORTH?”
“HE HAD HIM! HAD HIM! HIS ELBOW WAS RIGHT ON HIS NECK!”
“AND—AND—AND HE JUST… LEAVES?!”
Many gripped their heads, not understanding this at all.
Some even kicked away at the marble floor.
“I thought that this was the moment—THE MOMENT!”
They weren’t even sure how the fight went, honestly. Couldn’t even process it. It was too fast, too unreal, and too Goddamn beyond anything their little eyes were built to handle.
All they saw were flashes, sparks, and explosions.
Only clashes, not movement or swings, just the clashes themselves, and that was the case only for the ones that lasted for more than a moment, which was rare, and big attacks where they both used their footsteps to materialize millions and millions of flame or wind constructs over and over again.
A sea of fire and sand.
A hurricane of wind.
Whole mountains vanishing.
Whole canyons bending backward.
World-ending attacks, for hours. Days. NEARLY TWO WEEKS.
Literally just—BANG. CRASH. FLASH. BOOM.
And then the projection would glitch—skip—fast forward like the world itself couldn’t handle showing what was happening frame by frame.
That was a battle of Mithqals…
A battle that required Malik to kill himself over and over again, blink each time, repeat, and defeat the wall before him, all until finally, finally…
At the end…
It was clear.
Malik had won.
He laid there…
Elbow pressed on the Former Sultan’s neck.
The entire hall was ready, ready to see the coronation of their Sultan, but…
Malik just… he turned around and left.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Dead silence.
Even Huda… even she didn’t know how to react.
She was leaning forward, face in her palm, whispering.
“I… I don’t get it… I don’t… I don’t…”
Layla was just biting her nails down to the skin.
“…That can’t be the reason, can it? There has to be another reason. There’s gotta be. This isn’t him forgiving him… right?”
Safira was slumped, hands full on her face.
“But… but then why? Why kill him later? Just what happened?”
They, like most of the hall, believed that Malik had lost back then, that he, despite the impossibility that he was, could not win against Cyrus, against his enormous years of experience, but no, he could, and he did.
Sure, Cyrus himself helped Malik to win; sure, Cyrus never used his Unique Ability, his Blessing, but… Malik still won. There was no questioning that.
So again, the question asked itself, why?
Why assassinate him later?
What the Hell made him do that?
They were really, really, really desperate to know.
It felt as if the moment they knew ’why,’ a large veil would be taken away.
They’d finally know something that had been hidden from them for so long.
But even before the revelation, they knew it had to do with Corruption.
’The Fall is Here.’
It had arrived.
Their battle had called upon it.
The entire hall… the entire damn world watching… held their breath.
Because deep inside… all of them felt it. Felt it in their bones, in their blood.
Something was going to go wrong.
Very, very wrong.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik sat.
On a mountain high.
Quiet. Calm. Watching.
Down below was nothing but ruin.
Absolute ruin, miles and miles of it.
Everything was blown apart, cracked earth with craters big enough to swallow kingdoms ten times over.
Every hill and mountain had turned flat.
All because of Malik. Because of Cyrus. Both of them.
His arms rested on his knees, his body leaning forward slightly.
His black cloak, just delivered by a bird of his soul, fluttered with the wind, but he didn’t notice it; he barely noticed himself anymore.
On his shoulder sat the one creature in this world who still felt like… something.
Sinbad.
His little brother.
His owl. His everything.
The small black owl tilted his head.
“…Have you killed our enemy? If you have, I must say I’m extremely surprised… You haven’t even blinked once.”
Malik didn’t answer at first; he just kept staring.
Something flashed deep in his golden eyes.
Sadness perhaps… acceptance.
Then slowly…
“No.”
He shook his head.
Sinbad blinked.
“Wha…”
His feathers puffed.
“…What?”
His wings twitched.
“You’ve… failed? No. No, no, no. I sincerely doubt that.”
“…”
Malik stayed quiet for long.
“…”
Too long.
“…”
Way too long.
“…”
Sinbad shifted on his shoulder, claws gripping tight.
“…Talk.”
Only then did Malik finally let his words roll out:
“I showed mercy.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Silence.
Complete silence.
And then—
“WHAT?!”
Sinbad flapped his wings, hooting loud enough to shake the surrounding rock.
“MERCY?! Mercy to my killer?! To the one who led to my slaughter? Who abandoned me?! Mercy to the one who stole Huda away from you—who had her locked up like a prize goat about to be sold off to some filthy noble?! ELDER BROTHER—!”
His beak clacked furiously.
“I know you. I know you. You’re kind, sure. But this? This isn’t the time for kindness. That man—he’s not a man. He’s a blight. A disease. He should be ERA—”
Malik’s right hand slowly rose.
A simple gesture.
But it was enough.
Sinbad shut up immediately.
And it wasn’t because he was scared; no, he could never be.
But because they both understood what that hand meant.
Listen to me.
Malik’s golden eyes stayed locked on the shattered horizon as his lips parted.
“Don’t worry about lashing out; I forgive your fears as they are born out of love.”
Sinbad nodded, still so very enraged, and Malik continued:
“…I find him despicable. I do.”
A pause.
“I despise him.”
Another pause.
“But…”
His fingers curled slightly.
“…The world doesn’t.”
Sinbad’s feathers flattened a bit.
“…His people… like him.”
Malik’s tone didn’t carry a hint of sarcasm.
“They respect him. They’re proud of him. They believe in him.”
His hand slowly lowered.
“And he himself…?”
A soft exhale.
“He doesn’t hate me.”
Sinbad straightened his little owl head.
“…Of course he doesn’t. He wants you to be the Sultan after him.”
Malik’s eyes widened a little as he finally looked at his little brother.
Now, he was face-to-face with an undeniable truth.
A truth he despised more than he did Cyrus.
A truth that he never wanted to face…
Even when it was so obvious.
Even when it stared right at him.
King? No. That wasn’t Malik’s “Fate.”
It was the Golden Throne.
The Sultanate.
Indeed, Malik was why Cyrus took Huda off the Path.
It all made sense now… There was never some insanely talented newborn.
He was the reason. If he had never gone there, Huda would’ve been the next Sultan.
Malik took that away from her.
No… no, he wouldn’t.
Damn the future Roya went through; Malik would make his own future.
Cyrus was beaten; that was revenge enough. He would not kill him.
Malik would not take the throne… he didn’t deserve it anyway…
“He never used his Unique Ability.”
Sinbad’s eyes widened this time.
“…Are you—”
“I am sure.”
Malik let out a bitter chuckle.
“Bastard never went all out… I lost.”
Sinbad’s eyes widened even further, trembling now.
“No, no, no, no, no… Elder Brother, you cannot mean that—”
Malik cut in:
“I’ve blinked. Many thousands of times. Our connection has weakened. You will no longer Return By Death alongside me.”
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