Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 399: Who Wants To Be Sultan?

Chapter 399: Who Wants To Be Sultan?

***

I walked alone, where mortals sleep,

No banner flown, no wound to weep.

The crown recoiled from off my head—

So I wore a cloak of fire… and bled instead.

I stood alone, where only Lords Fell,

No light above, no star to name the Path ahead.

Yet death carved deep into what life could not—

A pillar of Hope born where I forgot.

The Golden Throne stood cold, alone,

It called my name… but not my own.

I left it there with Corruption and madness—

For I was made complete by death and darkness.

Carving my last truth, a Path reaching its end…

A Silent Requiem, a mass for the dead.

I spoke no word, yet hearts shook.

A name unwritten… faith to break.

Even the stars grew still in fear,

When I drew close, when I came near.

And when I Fell, no trumpet cried.

Only World…

She knelt, and sighed.

***

{Inside The Projection}

Like earlier, Malik was not given a break.

The Tenth Volume was upon him.

His Silent Requiem.

He had almost fully Embodied what was there to Embody.

Now, they were the same in appearance and mind.

Only the end remained to complete their bind.

But the end still felt to be far, so very far.

Malik, who currently sat on the Golden Throne, knew that very well.

He leaned his head on his right hand and stared down the hall.

His golden eyes had dominated everyone beneath him.

As did Sinbad’s, who sat on his left shoulder.

Pink eyes that gave them dread.

***

{Outside The Projection}

As it did to those outside the projection.

Though Malik wasn’t looking at them, the hall couldn’t help but freeze up.

Even those who were scurrying out of there, mainly Roya’s camp, each one carrying a few bleeding bodies of their own.

It almost made them feel like Malik had awakened.

Of course, he did not, but that didn’t matter to their minds.

The hall’s current appearance was nearly the same as it was back then, twisting real and fake, playing with them.

It felt really… weird seeing it.

And yeah, those Magi walking out were Roya’s. As everyone expected, they’d been easily defeated by the Lady, now forced to carry their master, both head and body, covered of course, out of the hall in shame, unable to do anything at all, for they were alive only due to the Lady’s mercy.

The hall had yet to react to her death; again, it was too sudden, and the projection suddenly resuming wasn’t helping either.

No one was exactly sad about her death, as ironic as that was, only shocked.

Those affected were mainly after her knowledge, the secrets she’d now take to her grave.

Because yes, though her story had concluded, there were still a few mysteries circling around her. The hall wasn’t given enough time, so their questions couldn’t be answered; many of them really wanting to know how she found out about certain things and whatnot.

But, well, it didn’t matter anymore.

It all had ended… even though it still didn’t feel believable to most.

They couldn’t comprehend how such a powerhouse could be so easily killed.

To some, it was so unbelievable that they believed she’d suddenly come back.

Perhaps claim that it was her puppet that died or something ridiculous and cliché like that.

Or maybe, judging by what they saw in her fight, she had a Holy Relic in preparation for this exact scenario hidden somewhere, one that would somehow bring her back to life.

Yeah… they just couldn’t believe it, and they likely wouldn’t for a long time.

So instead, they focused on the projection, knowing for certain that what’s coming was going to be incredible.

***

{Inside The Projection}

The tension in the Sultan’s Hall was unbearable, suffocating them all.

Every breath came out in a stutter, and every heart dared not beat too loud.

Malik kept completely still, slouched into the Golden Throne like it had grown out of his spine. Again, his right elbow dug into the armrest while his cheek rested against a clenched fist, those beyond-dead gold eyes casting judgment upon the people before him.

On his left shoulder was a black owl, Sinbad. He sat unnervingly still, watching just as his Elder Brother did, his pink eyes yet to blink even once.

No sound could be heard, though the hall wasn’t exactly quiet because of reverence.

It was quiet because no one could think right under their collective gaze.

But that silence didn’t last long.

One voice cracked.

“We—we can’t let him be the Sultan!”

It belonged to the same attendant who had looked at Malik with venom earlier.

The same one who thought his pride was bigger than his fear, though now he looked like he wanted to melt into the polished marble, already regretting the words that left his mouth.

“Y-Yes!”

Another voice joined, shriller.

“We don’t have to follow the Divine Law!”

“He’ll bring our Holy City to the ground!”

And just like that, the fever caught on as even more followed.

Ranks upon ranks, the crowd growing bold with numbers, stepping forward from their silence, palace scribes, attendants, stewards, high noblemen whose families had been entwined in the Court for centuries, advisors, once loyal to Cyrus, and even the Dīwān officials.

“He has no heart!”

“He’s no Sultan—he’s a monster!”

“An assassin! A demon walking in the skin of a man!”

“Step down! If you have any honor left, step down!”

That last one started a chant.

“Step down from the throne!”

“Step down from the throne!”

“Step down from the throne!”

One that picked up pretty quickly, only to…

“Step down from the—!”

End just as fast.

Malik had lifted his left hand.

He revealed his palm to them.

The entire hall froze.

One could hear a pin drop, even among thousands.

The fight died before it could even be born, as the light around them seemed to dim.

Malik’s eyes scanned the Sultanate structure before him, all of whom were still as well.

“Cease your recklessness.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com