***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik remained cross-legged in the cave, his body engulfed in golden flames that licked at him like hungry beasts.
They devoured his robes first, leaving charred remnants that crumbled to ash.
Then, they turned on his flesh, already battered and broken from seven—now edging into eight—days of relentless punishment.
His blackened skin cracked like brittle stone, glowing veins of molten gold spilling through the fissures, spreading like rivers of lava.
It should’ve been horrifying.
It should’ve been agonizing.
But he wasn’t screaming, wasn’t writhing—he wasn’t even flinching.
His face didn’t betray a single flicker of pain.
In fact, he looked… calm. Too calm.
As if he was exactly where he was always meant to be.
Home.
Wherever ‘home’ was.
That didn’t mean the pain wasn’t there, however.
Because oh, it was there.
***
{Outside The Projection}
The hall had collectively taken a step back when the memories resumed their showing.
No one dared stand close to the projection, not wanting a repeat of last time.
Still, many were surprised and caught a few unintentional seconds in the Hell Malik was going through.
They screamed like there was no tomorrow, embarrassing themselves before all.
Those who managed to get away in time didn’t care for them, though, focusing more on Malik.
“It starts just like that?! No buildup?”
“No rest for the wicked.”
“This… this isn’t normal, right?”
“No. I’ve never seen anyone go through that during an ascension.”
“That’s because no one has.”
A random muttered, crossing his arms:
“It’s gotta be the heavy Aether in him. It’s messing with the process.”
“Ohhh, right!”
Another snapped their fingers.
“Didn’t the Former Sultan mention that?”
“Hm. Too much unprocessed Aether in a Magi screws with—”
“Their Aspect. Their Divine Essence… Their balance.”
“Neutral Aether fights the transformation. Makes it harder to stabilize.”
“So instead of a clean transition, it’s like…”
“…like pulling a carriage uphill with no damn wheels.”
Azeem finished the crowd’s flowing words with a grimace.
“He’s no human.”
Minutes ticked by in a blink, and eventually, the roaring flames that looked like they’d reduce Malik to ashes fizzled out.
Everyone in the hall leaned forward, practically holding their breath.
After all that, they were expecting a nightmare—crumbling flesh.
A body barely holding itself together.
But what they got was the complete opposite.
Malik looked… fine. No, scratch that—better than fine.
His skin was smooth, glowing even, like he’d just walked out of some spa treatment.
The sunken, malnourished look he’d had before? Gone.
He wasn’t just alive; he looked like a whole new person.
“That’s… weird, right?”
“Yeah, incredibly weird.”
“Incredibly, incredibly weird.”
“Us Magi do kinda heal when Ascending but not to this degree… right?”
***
{Inside The Projection}
Right.
It wasn’t to that degree.
But for Malik, none of this was weird.
He knew exactly what had just happened, and it wasn’t just superficial.
The Neutral Aether that had been stuck inside him, refusing to do anything useful, had finally flipped the script.
It wasn’t dead weight anymore.
It had transformed, reshaped itself into something he could actually use.
And that was all thanks to one thing: the Aspect he’d chosen, a foundation for his path.
That magical book he read had laid out three paths for him.
A Divine Trinity.
Three ways to turn his Aether into power.
And each one came with its own fancy title and promises.
{AN: Check out the ‘Aether’ Auxiliary Chapter for all the details.}
The first option?
Sahir. A Weaver of spells.
Sounded cool, right? Crafting spells from scratch based on whatever element he wanted.
In another life, another timeline, maybe he would’ve chosen it.
But unfortunately, he didn’t have time for that.
Sahir was the kind of path that required months of foundational practice and careful study to get anywhere.
And Malik? He didn’t have months. Hell, he didn’t have hours.
The second option?
Kahin. Author of runes, both ancient and modern.
This one was even more useless for him right now.
Its early abilities were all subtle, slow burns—stuff that wouldn’t help him survive his next fight.
Sure, it would’ve been extremely powerful eventually, but Malik didn’t have “eventually.”
So yeah, option three it was.
A specialization that the book had oh-so-dramatically called:
Sultan Al-Sahara.
And honestly? It wasn’t even a tough call.
Sultan Al-Sahara was all about immediate strength.
Pre-pathed abilities, no need to reinvent the wheel, just survival tools right out of the gate.
Exactly what he needed.
Now, sitting there, looking like he’d just walked out of the desert as its undisputed ruler, Malik could feel it.
The Neutral Aether wasn’t just energy anymore—it had been reforged, and with it, so had he.
This wasn’t just a transformation.
This was his rebirth.
“…Crowned Sun.”
At those words, Malik slowly opened his eyes and looked at his arms.
His hands clenched into fists, feeling a power coursing through him that was unlike anything he’d ever known.
It was as if he was in a totally different body.
Everything just felt foreign, especially the physical strength.
But that wasn’t the most important thing on his mind right now.
No, Malik’s thoughts went back to everything he’d just learned.
Aether. Or, well, Flow of the Untainted, Sea of Life, Divine Ichor, Rukh Al-Noor.
All these titles were for the same energy that was everywhere.
Of course, it wasn’t just some random force; it was a part of the universe, wrapping the cosmos in its invisible grasp.
As one of its sources, Malik’s new home had Aether in everything.
Here, it was in the air, in the ground, in the water—in both life and death, in light and darkness, in the divine, and in the cursed.
But the thing that really made him stop and think was the way Aether worked.
As anyone could’ve figured out by name alone, the natural form of Aether was called Neutral Aether, the raw stuff.
Just like iron ore needed to be processed before it could be used to build something, Neutral Aether needed to be… transformed, converted, into something usable.
An Aspect was the furnace that melted the ore, and the Core was the container that stored the iron.
This container was a fist-sized organ that sat to the heart’s right.
It had a direct link to the nervous system, letting the Magi control the flow of Aether, sending it where it needed to go.
That, in turn, wove Abilities into existence.
Those abilities formed the foundation of an Aspect, the building blocks of a furnace.
And those Aspects connected to the Soul to create something deeper—Divine Essence.
Malik wasn’t some generic Dune Guardian with the same old Divine Essence as everyone else.
No, his Essence was unique, just like the rest of his journey.
He could feel it in his bones, and it wasn’t just some random title either.
His soul had whispered it to him, like a secret only he could hear.
“…Jahannam.”