Novel Full Chapter 370: Humph!
Chapter 370: Humph!
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{Outside The Projection}
The screen stayed black.
Just those two titles. Two lines.
{Volume 8: Where All Paths Lead}
{Volume 9: Beneath The Olive Tree}
A few white letters and a black screen.
And yet… that was enough to set the entire hall on fire once more.
Of course, not literally, but emotionally and mentally?
Oh yeah. Absolutely scorched earth.
This was the first time two volumes were announced at the beginning.
Did that mean that they, again, weren’t going to be given a moment to react?
Was this the Ten Commandment’s way of preparing them?
Perhaps.
Currently, the hall didn’t see or hear Malik’s thinking.
But… ’Where All Paths Lead?’ ’Beneath the Olive Tree?’
That alone gave them all the information they needed.
No longer was it an ’if’ or ’either,’ they knew the answer.
An olive tree, something known by all to be the Tree of Life.
Now, Malik didn’t care for that tree; no, he cared for the Tree of Death.
The Zaquum.
They figured that he chose that as his ticket out of the Fall.
Somehow, some way, he was going to the origin.
Going to be beneath it.
Kill it.
Sever it from their world.
How? They didn’t know exactly.
But where? Oh, that they knew.
Malik was heading home…
To his one untainted truth.
’Where All Paths Lead.’
He was going to Hell.
Again, somehow, some way, without anyone knowing, Malik had gone to Hell, likely alone.
They didn’t understand how anyone could go about doing that, but there was no point in guessing; they were sure to know soon.
What they cared for, however, was one thing.
Did Malik, their Sultan, the Weaver of Fate…
The one who repeatedly did the impossible…
Did he finally fail?
Even though he recently lost, by his standards at least, he never truly failed.
Yes, he was given realities that could only end in failure, but what he himself did always ended in him succeeding, at least in some deranged and tragic way.
Either way, the hall couldn’t exactly say.
Whatever they said would’ve underestimated him again, so instead, they continued to argue about this or that, taking it out on each other, just extremely anxious about what they’d see, leaving only the ’main characters’ silent.
Ghosts in the middle of a battlefield.
Huda was still on her knees, curled into herself, just… sitting there, her shoulders shaking hard. The sobbing didn’t return; now it was just hiccups, little sharp sounds that jumped out every time she tried to breathe a little too deep.
Her face was a mess—her hair was bunched up, sticky, her nose red, and her eyes swollen.
She looked like she’d been crying for weeks, but she didn’t care.
Didn’t care who stared, didn’t care for any lingering whispers.
Because nothing any of them could say would ever be worse than what she was saying to herself inside her head right now.
’It was me. It was all me.’
’If I hadn’t… If we hadn’t… If he had never met us in Zawaya…’
’None of this. None of this would’ve happened…’
’I never… I never should’ve lived…’
’I don’t deserve to.’
It stabbed, over and over, a knife twisting not only her heart but all her organs.
Her fingers clutched at her mouth, pulling it shut, trying to quiet the hiccups, but it didn’t help, not even a little.
Nothing could help, nothing ever—
Pat. Pat. Pat.
A warm hand gently landed on her head.
“Shhh…”
It was Layla, her voice more than soft and sweet.
“It’s okay… it’s okay…”
Safira was on the other side, one hand on Huda’s shoulder, rubbing circles.
Her voice was a little firmer, hiding her repressed feelings.
“Breathe… Breathe now…”
Together with their camps, they boxed her in.
A little wall, a shield from the chaos around them.
Behind them, Duban and Faqir stood tall, their shoulders squared.
Their eyes scanned the crowd like wolves watching for an excuse.
One wrong move, someone would get folded, simple as that.
Next to them, Azeem was back on the ground, sitting cross-legged.
His palms pressed together, thumbs tapping each other in a nervous rhythm.
His eyes darted around—not panicked—just… processing.
He knew something the others didn’t.
It was obvious.
’The Mouth of God…’
’The Zeroth Layer…’
’…It’s real… It’s actually real…’
’My Lord… He actually went there.’
He exhaled, long and slow, closing his eyes.
“Madman…”
There was no malice in that word, only awe, incredible amounts of it.
Zafar, now away from him, leaned against a pillar, arms folded, one foot kicked up against the marble, watching while saying nothing.
His eyes flicked between everyone—the crowd losing their minds, Huda crumbling, Layla and Safira comforting, one of whom must’ve felt a million times worse, for her husband never thought she’d believe him, which was proven right, while the disciple of them felt much the same, only with repressed anger added on, anger that was directed towards Huda, while behind them Duban and Faqir stood like a wall, suppressing their emotions, with Azeem close by, lost in thought—and then, after processing their states, Zafar just…
Nodded his head.
It seemed that he had decided on how he’d best serve his Lord.
Once, he was trapped in a prison of his own making.
Bars forged of ridiculous oaths, naive codes, and deluded commitments.
Walls of accepted limitation and self-doubt that was hidden behind loud arrogance, childish thinking, and an inflated ego.
He inhabited these identities and called them “Zafar.”
Something almost everyone did, only he did it worse.
But now…
Now he had finally gotten out.
Fully out. And with him being free, he saw everyone better…
Zafar saw himself better, gaining self-awareness, accountability, and shame.
It didn’t change his personality or anything; he was still a horny and boastful five-year-old, but it sure changed how he planned to interact with people from now on.
How he’d maneuver them to save his Lord.
The one not in his list, Roya…
She returned to her earlier state.
Kneeling once more… waiting.
Waiting for judgment.
Her face was pale as she, like Azeem, was lost in thought.
Lost in what was subtly revealed before them all…
Most wouldn’t think of it, but she, who already suspected it, only had her thoughts confirmed.
The True Sultan’s Corruption could reach those not in the Dune Guardian Path.
Malik’s assumptions were true; he killed her because she was Corrupted.
In the distant past, she had dismissed this, knowing the trend—the one shared element among all the Fallen, the prerequisite for their Fall.
It was obvious; anyone in her position would come to realize that.
But now…
Now that she saw the Zaqqums, the lotuses, and the eyes, she confirmed what she once didn’t want to believe: Malik really did kill her for the same reason he killed mortals.
It damaged her pride deeply, but she found it in herself to accept it; arrogant as she was, she could still kneel before someone, and she could still accept her betters, even if she never wanted to show it.
So that wasn’t what busied her mind so…
Her blue eyes glanced at Azeem.
Roya just couldn’t help but repeat this one question…
Was it the same for his wife?
Was Malik forced to kill her as well?
If so, that’d be quite boring…
But no, she didn’t believe that to be the case.
Something more must’ve happened… it must’ve.
Noor… who didn’t have such hopes, was trying to pretend she was fine, standing there, hands folded before her like a proper little politician, her head held high.
To most, she might’ve appeared no different than usual, but her eyes…
Her eyes betrayed her.
They were wide and a little too glossy.
She blinked more than her usual rate.
The woman was surprised.
’He really… he never cared about the Golden Throne… the politics… any of it…’
A bitter breath left her lips.
’I… I was playing a game against someone who was playing against God.’
This put things into perspective.
It told her just how far she was from Malik’s mind while they fought politically.
Or rather, how she pestered him at every chance she got, trying to get a win by any means.
He had the entire world on his shoulders, their saving, and she was busy fixing her ego.
The privilege she had, both from nobility and the system… her ’reincarnated’ status, made it impossible for her to think logically when he came into the picture; her inferiority complex was simply too much for her to handle.
If she’d won, or had even gotten any close to winning, at least once, perhaps she’d feel a little solace, but no…
She only felt lost.
Now she doubted that she’d even show up when the last volume came around.
Perhaps she mattered that little to Malik that she’d only be mentioned in passing.
That… that sounded like a nightmare.
One she never hoped to witness.
It’d reveal her truth to the entire world.
It’d tell them that she was nothing but a frog in a well that did not appreciate the air that it breathed, constantly chasing after the reflection of the Sun within its waters.
Such a nightmare took all of her attention that she, who, besides Roya, was most after any information from the projection, never took a moment to think about the words in Cyrus’s diary, ones that she could use to blackmail many.
This had truly sent her through the wringer.
Sinbad, meanwhile, wasn’t thinking about the end.
He wasn’t looking at the crowd or the projection.
No, his pink eyes were locked… dead ahead… on the mysterious woman in the corner.
The one standing there, completely still, so still that most have already forgotten about her.
Her face shadowed under her dress, not moving or breathing, just… staring back at him.
Sinbad fluffed his feathers, and they puffed out like a pillow twice his size.
He didn’t know what she wanted, coming over from so far away, but he was ready for her.
“Hehe~.”
She tilted her head, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
A knowing smile.
And beneath the fluff pile…
Dunya peeked out, her cheeks puffed, nearly grinning.
Her little fingers tapped against the floor while her chin rested on her knees.
She watched Huda, watched Layla, watched Safira, watched Zafar, watched Azeem…
The World watched them all.
And for the first time… in so, so long…
She revealed something of a proper smile.
It was soft, sweet, and a little sad, perhaps even pitiful.
Their personalities and dynamics had majorly changed since the beginning of this showing, something she’d be the first to admit, despite her once loathing of them.
’Good…’
Dunya felt a bittersweet happiness.
’You all grew up…’
Her brother had succeeded completely.
’Brother did great.’
At least regarding those he wanted to change.
’But these two…’
Roya and Noor were a lost cause.
’I hate them even more.’
Sure, Roya accepted her defeat, but that didn’t mean she changed.
She’d only done what she always did: go walk the most beneficial Path.
It was just that this time, surrender was what gave the best chance at survival.
If there was another option better than this one, Dunya was certain that Roya would never be seen back in the hall; the bastard girl had simply realized just how much of an impossibility going against Malik was.
Still, even she was better than Noor, who had yet to admit her defeat to the world and was still trying to hold on to whatever scraps remained of her public image as the Emperor of Light.
…Pitiful girl.
Sweet, sweet Dunya almost felt bad for her but quickly tilted her head and looked away.
’Humph!’
Malik told her not to pity the enemy!