NOVGO.NET Chapter 416: Unanswered Mystery
Chapter 416: Unanswered Mystery
***
{Inside The Projection}
Sinbad wheeled in the sky, a small black dot against the washed-out blue.
Below, Malik moved through the courtyard without hurry, boots clicking against pale stone.
The northern gate was already busy—guards standing stiff at attention, the clatter of armor, and the low hum of nobles who’d stopped to watch.
His palanquin sat ready, draped in deep red cloth trimmed with gold, cushions within still puffed from being freshly fluffed.
Four bearers stood on either side, eyes down, not daring to look at the man they would carry.
Malik’s gaze swept over them once before his foot touched the first step.
…WHUMP.
The courtyard shattered.
BOOOOOOOOOM.
As a dull sound bloomed into a roar, the palanquin exploded outward in a burst of fire and splinters, immediately killing the four bearers and sending the courtyard into chaos.
***
{Outside The Projection}
“…”
“…”
“…”
…Malik could finally relax, huh?
Finally, he was in something soft, huh?
Did they jinx him?
It sure seemed like they did.
Or did they? This was the past; nothing they could say would change that.
Well, in any case…
May God have mercy on his assassins.
Their Sultan sure wasn’t going to.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Cloth flew, going up in flames, as what remained of the bearers splattered into the surrounding ground.
The smell of burning silk, wood, and flesh tangled in the warped wind.
“My Lord!”
Azeem’s voice was the first to crack across the chaos.
“My Lord, are you safe?!”
He shoved past a frozen guard, shoving another for being in the way.
“MOVE, you useless stones! Put it out!”
The guards blinked, finally snapping to life.
One of them quickly thrust out his palm, a ripple of water bursting forward in a rush.
The flames hissed on contact, curling away as steam rolled into the air.
But before the smoke could settle, the water itself split apart.
A figure stepped through, parting the curtain of steam.
It, of course, was Malik.
He emerged without a mark, his robes were dry, and his skin was untouched, not even a single strand of hair out of place.
His eyes calmly flicked up to the leaving Sinbad, then to Azeem, catching the man’s relief, and then turned to the line of guards behind him.
The furthest one’s neck slit open.
A thin spray of red hit the ground before he even realized he’d been killed.
The rest dropped the same way—throats cut so clean their bodies swayed for a heartbeat before collapsing in unison.
Moments after, the assassins revealed themselves, standing where the guards had been, all in black, masks hiding their faces, their blades still wet.
They stared at Malik, and he stared back at them.
The air went still, though only until a few shadows shifted.
Behind Malik, and in the space of a blink, all seventeen leaders of his Shurtat al-Khamis materialized.
Their weapons were already drawn, pointed directly at the assassins, and their eyes were all the same—so full of hatred that they promised nothing but agonizing death.
HOW DARE THEY ATTEMPT TO HARM THE SULTAN?!
Kabir stepped forward, glancing toward Malik.
He didn’t speak, only waited for his command.
Malik shook his head once, silently telling them to back off.
Kabir’s fist rose, and in an instant, all seventeen vanished like they had never been.
Malik exhaled once through his nose.
“Give me a moment.”
His feet began to bounce lightly on the stone, shifting his weight from one side to the other, each hop turning his hips, his head moving with the rhythm, wrists loose and following.
This was the slow warm-up of a man who didn’t need Aether, only his body.
And that alone made the assassins stiffen.
Most, realizing too late that they had no chance at all, looked to the side, calculating escape.
But the next moment, Malik was simply there, in front of them.
“Don’t move.”
They froze up completely.
“All those in my line of sight…”
His eyes slid over each hooded face.
“Are not allowed to move until I say so.”
Their bodies began to tremble.
“Of course, if you don’t obey… I’ll kill you.”
Somewhere behind, Azeem began to leave.
Malik didn’t need to look to know.
“Not yet…”
The shuffling of feet grew quieter as Azeem widened the distance.
“Just a bit more…”
With him a safe distance away, Malik’s hands came together in a loud clap.
“Now.”
The assassins bolted…
Only to fall flat in the next moment.
They made it half a step before their heads burst like crushed fruit.
Not all of them, however, as the last one, still alive, felt the shift of air behind him.
Malik’s right hand hovered a breath from his skull.
“You never should’ve accepted this contract.”
The man wanted to agree but couldn’t.
His body was locked, terror rooting him to the spot.
He could not fathom it… the shape of death that stood over him.
Malik flicked the pitiful man’s neck; his bone cracked, and he dropped limp.
He was still breathing, but soon, he’d so desperately wish that it wasn’t the case.
Malik pointed at the body without looking twice, as shadows shifted once more.
Turning back, he stepped forward a few times and caught sight of Azeem weaving through some fight at one of the side entrances to the courtyard.
It appeared that more assassins came from the other side, perhaps planning to sandwich him if he survived the explosion, assuming that he’d be seriously injured, or perhaps they were just the smarter ones, those who realized early that Malik wasn’t someone they could ever hope to kill, escaping, or at least attempting to, but failing, being caught by the guards.
Either way, they didn’t seem to be a problem, as the guards had the upper hand, the last few assassins stumbling, desperate, still swinging.
“You damned buffoons!”
Azeem kept weaving through the chaos, stepping into their attacks before dodging away, grinning while repeatedly calling them buffoons and such, his insults ringing louder than the clash of steel.
They responded by proving him right, continuing this unwinnable fight, and rushing to attack him when they had the chance, tripping over their own footing when they did, swinging too wide, and missing what at first glance seemed to be easy strikes.
“Come on, come on!”
Azeem clapped, egging them on.
“Don’t make it this easy!”
One of them snarled between gasps.
“Shut your—your howling screamer—!”
Azeem responded with a low chuckle as one of his three rings flared with light.
He bent his knees, jumped, pivoted in the air with a perfect three-point turn, and slammed his palm into the ground.
The impact cracked the stone in a neat circle, the assassin in front of him folding in on himself before he even realized he was dead.
Immediately after, the courtyard went silent.
Fear shackled the assassins, and shock stunned the guards.
This flamboyant man was capable of such a quick and cruel death?
Malik’s brow rose slightly… even he hadn’t expected that.
It seemed Azeem was a Magi after all.
***
{Outside The Projection}
The hall’s attention swung back to Azeem.
They’d all seen it, that flicker of red in one of his ten rings.
It had flared before his intent to strike way earlier…
And now, here it was again, blooming in the past.
A few in the crowd leaned forward unconsciously, whispering to each other.
Some called it an ancient technique; others swore it had to relate to Kahin’s.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t some trick any Magi could pull.
And yet, that wasn’t the part that surprised them.
If Azeem were a Magi, Malik would have known. Everyone knew a Mithqal could smell a Magi from tens of miles away. Never mind Malik, you couldn’t, no matter the Holy Relic, hide that from him.
Which meant… Azeem wasn’t one. At least, not in any way they understood.
But what he’d done on that projection—what they’d just seen—was the kind of attack most Nadhirs couldn’t even dream of accomplishing, forget a Goddamned mortal.
Even borrowed power needed a formidable conduit, so he couldn’t have… cheated.
And now, two centuries later, the man was standing, or well, sitting among them.
Flesh, bone, and every bit as unshakable as any Mithqal in their prime.
Was he still not a Magi?
Or had he crossed into something else entirely?
They so wanted to know, but…
Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t something they’d ever know.
Whatever it was, it was locked behind that smug little smile of his.
Unless, of course, the projection decided to bear the truth.
Something which, at this point, they seriously doubted.
This would likely join the others in the pile.
…An unanswered mystery
Source: .com, updated by novlove.com