***
{Outside The Projection}
“No, no, no, he couldn’t have died after all of that! HE CAN’T!”
Huda’s wail of despair was heard by all.
Her chest rose and fell so fast it looked like she was on the edge of hyperventilating.
She felt his pain—every bit of it, every moment of it—literally.
From the very beginning till the end.
As a result, she was going mental, just unable to take it anymore.
Watching him die, again and again, was like having her heart ripped out repeatedly.
She was barely holding it together.
And the worst part? It wasn’t just the dying.
It was his eyes—how they looked dimmer every single time, like he was giving up on himself, losing whatever value he had left in his life.
If this kept going, he was going to stop caring about himself altogether.
He would throw his life away for the most frivolous things.
The consequences of that on his mind and soul were unfathomable.
That was what hit her harder than anything else.
She couldn’t handle it. Not this. Not him. Not like this.
“Calm down, Lady Huda.”
Azeem’s tone was sharp yet still hollow, his facade long since crumbled.
“Calm down?! How do you expect me to calm down?!”
Huda stood up and spun toward him, her wide, tear-filled eyes boring into his.
“That’s my brother in there! He keeps dying—over and over and over!”
Her breath hitched.
“Do you know what that’s like? Do you?!”
Azeem smiled.
‘Oh, so he’s your brother again, now is he?’
He wanted to say that so incredibly bad but held it in, knowing when not to talk.
“I don’t. But think for a second… Something’s missing, is it not?”
Pointing at the projection, where Malik’s broken body lay motionless, he added:
“The Sultan’s not dead yet. Look.”
All eyes quietly listening to the conversation turned back to the projection.
Huda did so as well, her lips trembling as she tried to speak:
“He… he looks… dead.”
Azeem nodded.
“True, but the world hasn’t blinked… Until it does, Malik’s alive. He’s holding on.”
Most of the crowd had their eyes widened, only now realizing that fact.
Azeem was right.
The world in front of them had yet to blink.
And though it didn’t seem like it, Malik still clung to life.
Huda froze, her teary gaze glued to the projection, more specifically, her big brother.
“He… He’s alive?”
She whispered, as though not daring to hope.
“Yeah.”
Azeem answered softly, placing his arms behind him as he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.
“Barely, sure. But damn if he didn’t just cheat death ten times in a row, or I guess eleven if you count the earlier one.”
Those words brought no comfort to Huda, but she nodded stiffly, her body wound tighter than a spring.
Layla and Safira, though, both let out shaky breaths they didn’t even realize they’d been holding.
A slight feeling of relief washed over them, loosening muscles they hadn’t known were clenched.
Malik had survived.
It was a weird feeling, honestly—being grateful that the guy who betrayed them was still breathing.
But they felt it all the same.
Noor and Roya didn’t have much to say, their expressions unreadable, while Zafar, the world’s “hero,” stood there stewing in his own envy, looking like someone had just stolen his spotlight.
‘If I only had this lucky bastard’s cheat! I would’ve used it so much better!’
Nobody—absolutely nobody—would call Malik lucky, even with his freakish, miracle-like ability to cheat death.
Well, that is, if they had a brain bigger than a peanut or were in their right mind.
To everyone watching, except the little “hero,” it seemed more like a curse, and Malik would’ve agreed.
A curse that clung to him like a shadow, ready to drag him down until true death finally claimed him.
That seemed to be the common sentiment in the hall, too, as some random guy in the corner muttered loud enough for those around him to hear:
“He was face to face with a Dandan and a Roc… Just how unlucky can one get?”
“Forget unlucky; the man’s basically got a death wish stamped on his back.”
Chuckling, another chimed in, shaking her head in disbelief:
“Sure, the Dandan was a baby, but still…”
“A baby Dandan?”
Some young girl repeated, her voice pitching higher as she continued to speak:
“What does that even mean?! It was the size of a boat!”
The one who first spoke smirked at his fellow guild member.
“Oh, it gets much worse when they’re fully grown. That was just the appetizer. The main meal, its mother, is no smaller than the Roc.”
Zafar picked up on his words and decided to join in, attempting to lean the situation back to where it should’ve been:
“Wasn’t he lucky to not have her awake then? After all, it might’ve broken his mind. He’s already struggling with just a few deaths.”
“Lucky?… JUST A FEW DEATHS?!”
Huda had officially snapped, looking at Zafar like he was someone she didn’t know.
“He died eleven times! How is that ‘just a few?!'”
“…”
He had no comeback for that.
It wasn’t that Zafar couldn’t argue—oh, he could.
But even he wasn’t dumb enough to try. Not now.
Their relationship was already hanging by a thread, and saying one wrong word would snap it completely.
And if that happened? Well, there went all his grand plans for building his harem.
Noor had already cut ties with him, which left just Huda, Roya, and Safira.
Zafar couldn’t afford to lose any more. Not a single one.
It wasn’t exactly a stretch to say he was thinking with his dick rather than his brain.
Even in this tense situation, getting laid was most of what he thought about.
“The Sultan’s still breathing, isn’t he?”
But Azeem didn’t give a damn about any of that—not Huda’s relationship with Zafar, and certainly not Zafar’s dumbass plan to build his little harem.
“And you’re here, alive.”
His words silenced the hall completely.
“He did that for you. Don’t let his sacrifice go to waste by losing control.”
Huda sniffled, wiping her face with both hands.
“I don’t want him to sacrifice himself for me. I just… I just want him to hate me, bully me, betray me… Anything but this. But now, knowing what really happened…”
She paused, her breath hitching.
“I can only blame myself. If it wasn’t for me, my uncle would still be alive.”
Safira wanted so badly to mutter, “We all do,” but had somehow managed to stop herself.
Jealousy was ugly—no, jealousy at this level was monstrous, and she didn’t want to expose that side of herself to anyone.
Layla smiled at Huda and glanced back at the projection where Malik lay motionless.
“But my husband… He’s not the kind of guy to give up, no matter what.”
Noor agreed, though not for the same reason:
“That’s what makes him dangerous. The kind of dangerous that doesn’t stop until the job is done.”
Huda fell silent, staring at the projection as if it held all the answers she was desperate to find.
Her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles white.
“He told me once…”
Her voice was barely audible.
“He told me he’d always protect me, no matter what. I thought it was just his way of rubbing salt in the wound back then, but now… now he’s proving it. He did everything he could to save me.”
Her head dropped, and the sadness on her face cut deeper than her words.
“So what… what made him give up? What b-broke his mind?”
The hall went utterly still.
Somehow, the question hung heavy over everyone, sinking into their thoughts like a stone dropped into a deep well.
They were dying to know the answer—but terrified of it at the same time.
Sure, it was just the first layer, but they’d already seen something that strayed so far from normal in the first ten or so hours of his memories.
What else could be lurking deeper? What if it got worse?
No one wanted to face it, to confront whatever or whoever had broken someone they viewed as stronger than themselves.
So yes, it wasn’t just curiosity. It was fear.
Incredible, paralyzing fear.