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{Outside The Projection}
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The silence was unbearable.
They’ve long been quiet, watching the battle unfold…
Cowards running, mortal women fighting, guards dying, bandits screaming.
Malik’s skills, Malik’s fire, Malik’s madness, Malik’s rage… His rage. Oh, his rage.
All of it born from a child’s naivety. From Ali Baba’s fall. From the loss of his leader—a father.
But this? This end? What the actual fuck had they just witnessed?
What kind of death was that?… People could die like that? What?
It was ridiculous. Almost unnecessary. Because why?… Why?
They’d asked that question a hundred times before, but…
This—this—this ‘why’ ranked above them all.
Shit didn’t even compare.
“Oh, God, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
A murmur broke through the stillness.
“His arms—his legs—they fucking—oh, God—”
Then another.
“Someone cut the feed, I can’t watch this…”
Then another.
“No—no, this can’t be real. This fucking relic is messing with us.”
“Fuck. FUCK! He was eaten alive! ALIVE!”
“Just… just close your eyes.”
“The chewing… oh, fuck, I CAN STILL HEAR IT!”
“I-Is this what it sounds like to—?”
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
“Why didn’t he die?! He should’ve died already! He lost his arms, he had wounds all over, he was bleeding out, he should’ve… he should’ve just…”
“…He kept fighting. Even with nothing left, he still fought.”
“That’s not fighting! That’s—that’s a fucking nightmare!”
“He lost all his weapons, and he still killed them. All of them. With his fucking teeth.”
“He—he tore their throats out! That wasn’t human!”
“And then… the bugs.”
“Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it.”
“They… they ate him.”
“Shut up. Don’t say another word.”
“But they did. They actually did. They burrowed into him. Crawled under his skin. Into his wounds. They—”
“Shut the FUCK up!”
“He didn’t even scream. He just…”
A sickening gag resounded from the back of the crowd.
Someone hunched over, emptying their stomach onto the marble ground.
Another gasped—a strangled sound—then fell backward, unconscious.
A chain reaction of horror spread through the onlookers like a plague.
These weren’t common folk. These were warriors sons and daughters of warriors. Magi of the highest caliber.
Sure, not all were battle-hardened Magi who had seen war, seen carnage. But even the youngest were worthy of standing in this hall. They were the strongest Fam Iblis had to offer—at least, from the Holy Kingdom. And yet… they were dropping like flies.
That showed just how severe this horror was. A tragedy that eclipsed everything they saw in all those years they breathed this planet’s air.
“I… I thought it couldn’t get worse than the last one… That was already bad enough. B-But this? This?”
Shaking hands. Stumbling feet. More retching. More shaking.
Some had collapsed onto their knees, hands clasped together like they were praying to God. Others just stood there, pale and hollow-eyed, refusing to accept what they’d just seen.
Malik had been through Hell. That they knew. That they could never forget.
Everyone had seen him survive the impossible. Endure the unbearable. Thrive in pandemonium.
But this… it wasn’t just death. It was annihilation.
This was the kind of death that didn’t leave enough behind to mourn.
“We watched him climb from the pit. Again and again. We watched him suffer. Crawl. Bleed. And for what? For this? For… for them to—FUCK!”
“He wasn’t even human at the end. No arms. No fucking arms. And he still fought.” Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire
“Like a demon.”
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Silence again.
Months… They had watched nearly two years of his life. His struggles. His victories. His defeats. His pain. His fleeting moments of peace. The slow build-up. The climb. And then, like a cart rolling downhill, it all came crashing down. Too fast. Too sudden.
This was beyond words. Beyond anything.
Because how do you describe something like that?
How do you explain watching a man, broken and bleeding, tear apart his enemies with nothing but his teeth? How do you describe the horror of seeing him stand, defying every law of life and death, only to be consumed by the earth itself?
How do you put into words the way his body twitched even as they ate him alive?
You don’t. You can’t. You could only feel it… Which was why Huda had collapsed.
One second, she was standing—shaking, pale, tears falling like a waterfall.
The next, her body locked up and she crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
Her body hit the ground, still trembling as if the pain had yet to stop searing through her nerves.
Crimson wasn’t far behind.
A rough hoot left the owl as he staggered and joined his little new friend, slumping down softly before his massive head lolled to the side.
No one was surprised seeing them get knocked out. It was only of course that they did.
They had felt it… directly, the pain. Malik’s suffering had bled into their very souls and forced them to bear a sliver.
It was too much.
Unlike them, Layla had not fainted, but she wished she had.
She was on her knees, doubled over, her body wracked with violent tremors.
Her hands clutched her sides, nails digging into flesh as she fought to keep her stomach from emptying itself onto the ground.
But it was useless. A dry heave shook her frame. Then another. She vomited.
Her throat burned, her eyes wide, horrified, disbelieving.
“Blurgh… no… no… no…”
Her voice was thin, weak, breaking.
Safira was beside her, sobbing, her hands pressed against her face as though trying to block out the images, the sounds, the sheer horror of it all.
“This… this isn’t real.”
Layla wept.
“It can’t be real… it can’t be real…”
Azeem didn’t speak.
He simply stood there, head lowered, his gaze locked on the ground.
His fists trembled at his sides, his brows twitched, and his jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Every muscle in his body was wound like a coiled spring, as though if he so much as moved, he would shatter apart.
He didn’t know what to feel seeing his Sultan in such a state.
Too many emotions suffocated him.
Noor could not bear to look.
On her hovering throne, her body was stiff, her arms crossed tight over her chest as though trying to hold herself together.
Her head was turned away, her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to acknowledge what happened before her.
Yet, despite all that she did, the image was still burned into her mind.
Malik, torn apart.
Malik, devoured.
Malik, breathing, even as his body was stripped away.
A bitter taste filled her mouth.
“Dammit… grow stronger already… I can’t… I can’t continue seeing you like this.”
Roya was the only one still looking at the projection.
Her face was blank, her gaze steady, unreadable.
She did not flinch, did not cry, did not look away.
Miss Informer was just silent.
Zafar… the “hero.”
He was frozen.
His breath came slow, shallow, his face had turned pale, his hands opening, closing, as though searching for something to grasp onto, something to ground him in the face of the sheer horror he had just witnessed.
He turned his head slightly, looking at the others—at the ones on the ground, at the ones crying, at the ones too stunned to speak.
This… this would bring disaster to their collation. People might even start rioting.
So far, Malik’s life has been nothing but Hell on Devil’s Maw.
Irrational kindness and suffering.
All of Fam Iblis watched them, the Heroic Coalition, sentence him to death…
To those unknowing of his cruelty, this would seem beyond justice. Something none of them would ever forget… something they’d pick up steel for.
If Zafar wished things to quell, he needed Malik to do something unexplainably evil.
One that would save their image, a scene the whole world would hate him for.
But unfortunately for him, that didn’t seem to be coming any time soon.
