Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 48: Live. Absorb. Die. Repeat.

***

{Outside The Projection}

"The Sultan seems to have always had talent in combat."

"Was this the ’hidden skill’ the Former Sultan mentioned?"

"Sure looks like it."

"But I think it’s tied to something bigger than just skill."

"Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that—skill—but not the full scope of it."

"He hasn’t shown us everything, that’s for sure."

"True. But what if it’s more about his understanding speed?"

"Mhm. The fact that he activated Ember’s Touch on his first try says a lot."

"Even with a Grimoire guiding him, that’s unheard of."

"Even our most talented youngsters, the ones raised in cultivation, haven’t achieved that."

Though the projection didn’t pause, skipping to the next day, the crowd continued to converse between themselves.

It was clear that their earlier tense mood had been relieved—slightly.

Or more likely this was just a collective attempt to forcefully move past what they’d seen, unwilling or unable to confront it fully.

Their beliefs, their mental states, and their fragile coalition standing demanded a certain level of denial.

"He’s still kind, though..."

One of the crowd commented, almost reluctantly.

"He had to know those Qirds would come back for revenge if he let them go..."

"But he still did it."

"Was Sinbad’s death not the thing that broke him?"

"No, it did. Though whether his mind has already begun to fix itself, or if it’s just delaying the inevitable collapse... we can’t say for sure."

"It takes time to process something like that. And with those hallucinations... He’s got a long road ahead of him."

"Indeed."

Listening quietly, Safira nodded to herself.

She didn’t need the crowd’s speculations to remind her of the Malik she once knew.

She remembered their first meeting as if it had happened yesterday.

He was different then—quiet, yes, guarded, of course—but there had been warmth.

Humor, even.

Malik wasn’t this hollow shell of a man she saw before Sinbad’s grave.

And yet... change had come so suddenly.

Barely a day after their meeting, his smile disappeared.

His personality did nearly a one-eighty-degree flip.

Did she or Jasmine do something? Was it not only Huda that broke him?

Have they contributed to his ruin as well?

That possibility haunted her... and unlike the "coward" that left, she wanted to know.

’Malik... Tell me... what happened?’

***

{Inside The Projection}

Malik sat cross-legged in the damp cave, the faint glow of the Qird’s Aether Core in his hand.

The thing pulsed like a heartbeat, almost as if it were communicating with him.

He couldn’t help but stare at it, a cocktail of fear and anticipation brewing in his chest.

This was it—his ticket to Al-Saif.

No waiting around for years to leech power out of it like some timid novice.

No, he wasn’t about to play it safe.

Malik was going all in or would die trying.

Though, if he were being honest with himself, he was sure it’d be the latter.

"Alright..."

Malik rolled his shoulders as if preparing for a fistfight.

"...Jahannam, don’t let me down."

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, then shoved the Aether Core into his own.

Instantly, his body jerked as his core—his Divine Essence—reacted.

It pulsed, almost like it knew what he wanted, and he shivered.

Aether rushed into him, warm at first, comforting.

But as he pulled more, that warmth turned to fire, searing and white-hot.

His whole body felt tight, like it was too small for the energy surging through him.

It was.

But he kept at it.

He had to do it.

More.

More. More.

He needed more!

’MORE!’

Aether surged, so strong it almost knocked him out then and there.

But still, he didn’t stop.

Malik NEEDED this.

The Aether was addictive, feeding a hunger that had gnawed at him for years.

He could feel it filling every inch of him, overflowing, the heat turning into a scorching pain that made his skin feel like it was splitting apart.

The cave exploded with light, the Aether Core shining so bright, like a second Shams.

It was too much, maybe, but he shoved that thought aside.

But then, all of a sudden... something shifted.

Something that proved his previous thought right.

A sharp pain shot through his chest, making him gasp.

His core felt like it was tearing apart.

And worst of all, the Aether wasn’t stopping.

It kept coming, wild and too much, simply out of control.

He tried to pull the core away, but it was stuck to his chest.

Deeming it a lost cause, he focused on the inside instead of using what little remained of his strength.

Malik tried to push it back, to contain it, to stop it, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche with his bare hands.

The Core on his chest fractured, lines crawling across its surface.

"Ha—ha—ha..."

He couldn’t breathe; his chest felt like it was splitting open, and the pain—

WHHHHIIIINNNNEEEEEE!

But before he could even process that, a sudden sound resounded.

Like a machine straining against an impossible load, it intensified in a second and reached a fever pitch.

This, according to Rafiq’s book, was a major sign of an Aether core implosion.

Both the birth of an Anomaly and its destruction in one horrifying sequence.

It all went down way fast. Too fast.

First, a blinding light swallowed him whole, making the world disappear.

Then, just between his chest and the core, a tiny Aether vortex took shape, instantly pulling all the ambient Aether in the area like it was some insatiable black hole.

The ground shook, and he heard the splintering of rock as cracks split across the cave.

Everything collapsed inward, compacting into a single, terrifying point.

An anomaly was born—a living catastrophe, moments from going nuclear.

This caused a deafening silence to fall upon the world.

Not a single sound.

And then...

Crack—BOOOOOOM!

Destruction.

It imploded, unleashing absolute energy.

Everything, everywhere—all at once, in an instant too quick to comprehend.

And in that fleeting, final moment, Malik knew.

Death had claimed him.

Just like that.

It was over.

Blink.

***

{Outside The Projection}

While Malik couldn’t grasp the exact details of what had occurred in those final moments, the ones watching saw everything with horrifying clarity.

After his Aether core imploded, his body contorted unnaturally, twisting into itself as if forced by invisible hands.

Flames didn’t just burn him; they devoured him from the inside, an inferno of Aether tearing him apart.

It was absolute.

Total. Complete. Utter annihilation.

Then nothing.

The world blinked, his existence snuffed out like a candle in a storm, erased.

Such a sight brought many a feeling of disgust... repulsion.

Stomachs turned, some straight-up puked, others just froze, while many just stared at the spot where Malik used to be.

What they saw was beyond insane, sure, but it wasn’t the most surprising.

...Malik knew.

He knew his luck. He knew that this was going to be the end of him.

Knew it was going to tear him apart, making him feel pain like never before, and still...

He went ahead with it.

The thought hit everyone, resulting in one single, unanimous conclusion:

’He’s not human.’

***

{Inside The Projection}

"Haaah—!"

Malik gasped awake like he’d just surfaced from drowning.

He shot upright, clutching at his chest, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

Wide, frantic eyes darted around the dim space, searching for... something?

’...A Cave.’

The sight of the stone walls surrounding him brought relief for just a moment before an unstoppable feeling of frustration replaced it.

"Goddammit!"

He slammed his fist into the rocky ground.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

Though he knew that succeeding on the first attempt was impossible, a part of him, somewhere deep down, truly hoped for that.

Malik had hoped.

Hoped that maybe he was different.

Hoped that he was stronger, faster, more talented than the rest.

Hoped that he’d rise above the odds, like some kind of destined hero.

But no.

Reality had other plans, ripping apart his naive aspirations, stomping on them without mercy, and throwing them to the hounds.

A cruel world, indeed.

Yet it wasn’t entirely unforgiving.

His "checkpoint" had been updated.

If his slightly rested body was any indication, it had been forwarded to when he slept in the cave.

Of course, the core was still there, sitting a few feet away, pulsing like nothing had happened.

Malik stared at it for a moment, then sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"Alright... round two."

He sat in a lotus position.

No rest, no time to waste.

If this was his life now, he wasn’t going to spend it whining.

He picked it up and shoved the core in again, this time bracing himself.

And yet... nothing changed—the whine, the heat, the implosion. Death.

Blink.

Rather, it was arguably worse.

Malik didn’t even last half as long as last time.

He groaned, slumping against the wall as his frustration resurfaced.

"Damn you... stupid thing..."

He glared at the core, wanting to punch the shit out of it.

But he’d only hurt himself, so he stopped.

Besides, there was no turning back now.

"Round three..."

Malik brought the core to his chest and tried again.

Blink.

And again.

Blink.

And again.

Blink.

The cycle repeated endlessly.

Every failure brought a new explosion, a new round of pain.

His core would whine, protest, and then shatter, taking him with it.

Each time, he’d wake up gasping, the taste of ash in his mouth, the core sitting there like some smug little devil.

He’d live. Absorb. Die. Repeat.

And there seemed to be no end to that in sight.