Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 72: Fall Into Depravity

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{Inside The Projection}

Seeing that the two girls would be fine without him, Malik left them to consolidate their newfound power and went deep into the cave.

He figured he’d scope it out, make sure there weren’t any nasty surprises waiting to ruin their little camping trip.

The place was like a mirror of the cave he’d holed up in before—a yawning maw, cloaked in an oppressive silence.

All the walls were slick with moisture, and the smell was horrendous, somehow worse than what he’d gone through with... yeah.

If there were awards for awful stenches, this place certainly would sweep the competition.

It got worse the deeper he got.

Like someone took the wet socks of a rotting corpse, infused them with shit, threw them into a swamp, let them marinate for ten years, baked them under the Shams for another few, and then set the thing on fire.

...It was that bad.

But Malik?

He just wrinkled his nose and kept moving like the reek didn’t even faze him.

After everything he’d been through, a little olfactory nightmare wasn’t about to knock him off his game.

Each footfall of his was cautious, eyes scanning for any sign of danger.

Malik wasn’t about to get caught slipping.

If there was one thing life had drilled into him, it was that quiet usually meant something was gearing up to hit the fan.

He deemed it an unspoken universal law, where calm always preceded calamity.

And he was sure that now... it wouldn’t be any different.

For a few minutes, it was just more of the same—empty corridors, the drip of water echoing in the stillness.

But then, just when he entered a large open space, the smell hit a level that could’ve dropped a lesser man.

Even Malik, who thought he’d smelled it all, found himself gagging.

"Ah..."

That was when he saw it.

A Hell had unveiled itself before him.

Corpses. Tens of them.

All scattered across the cavern floor like discarded meat puppets.

It wasn’t just the number—it was how wrong they looked.

Skin peeled back in strips, exposing raw muscle and bone.

Some bodies were so decomposed they were basically skeletons.

But others?

They looked freakishly fresh, almost preserved like they’d only just stopped breathing.

Malik, covering his nose and mouth, crouched beside one, forcing himself to take a closer look.

The injuries were… odd.

’I have to...’

Standing back up, he approached another corpse.

’Why?’

His thoughts didn’t change.

They only solidified.

He went to another.

’...Did they really?’

Still.

Then another.

And another.

Same deal.

The injuries just didn’t make sense.

Slashed wrists.

Deep gouges in their necks.

Perfectly precise, like someone had performed surgery.

And there were no signs of a struggle—no defensive wounds, no blood trails suggesting they’d tried to crawl away.

"They did this to themselves…"

His whisper was true.

Or was it?

Malik’s brow furrowed.

"Why would they…?"

It didn’t add up.

Why would so many people off themselves here?

And in the exact same way?

’Maybe they were knocked out?’

’Is that why there were no signs of struggle?’

’But really? Not even one person woke up? That’s hard to believe.’

He stood slowly, his boots nearly slipping in the blood-soaked stone.

Before his curiosity could grow any further, he quickly shook his head.

’I shouldn’t bother with this... curiosity killed the cat and all that.’

Whatever had driven these people to such desperation, he didn’t want to find out.

Malik knew where those paths usually ended up.

Besides, he didn’t want more responsibility than what he already had.

And yet...

Tip-tap, tip-tap.

The ’responsibility’ had come to him.

Instincts kicked in and his dagger was in his hand nearly in an instant.

He turned toward the source of the noise.

Taking a stance, he braced himself for an attack, muscles coiled like springs.

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But what emerged from the shadows wasn’t a monster.

No, far from it.

It was a beautiful little flower.

It was Jasmine.

She stopped a few feet away, her face pale, likely nauseated from the smell.

Malik’s grip on his weapon didn’t loosen.

"What are you doing here? Go back."

Jasmine slowly crossed her arms, her chin lifting stubbornly.

"N-N-N-No."

"This isn’t a debate. It’s dangerous. Go back."

"And... and leave you to face this alone? N-No way!"

Malik’s frustration boiled over.

"Why are you so stubborn?!"

She hesitated, her gaze softening.

"B-Because I’m worried about you! You act like a different man all of a sudden, ignoring us, not even answering a single question... I don’t know what’s bothering you... but at least... at least I want you to know that I’m here for you. You act like you have to carry everything on your own. You don’t. You shouldn’t."

Her words caught him off guard, a display of intellect that surprised him.

Just what kind of barely pubescent child talked like that?

"..."

Malik didn’t have the answer.

For a long moment, he just stared at her.

Jasmine.

Her name meant "a gift from God," and right now, it felt painfully apt.

A flower that wilted, yet still found the strength to bloom again.

"...Fine."

He finally spoke, his tone colder than he intended.

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It seemed that her arrival switched up his plans, making him no longer interested in retreat.

"It’s better if you stick with me anyway. Safer than going back alone."

Jasmine’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She fell into step beside him as they continued deeper into the cave.

The corpses grew more numerous, hundreds of them lining the cavern floor.

Each one told the same story of despair and self-destruction.

Jasmine’s stomach churned, but she pressed on, following her teacher with all that she had, her mind racing with questions that she didn’t want the answer to.

Then finally, and certainly not soon enough, they reached the end of the cave.

A sea of bodies welcomed them.

Yet that wasn’t all.

There, atop a protruding stone, a single note rested, its edges yellowed with age.

Malik jumped over the corpses and picked the parchment up carefully.

Going back to Jasmine, he began to read the faded words:

"To all staff, I regret to inform you that our worst fears have been realized.

We’ve Fallen till our last man. This camp will be gone in a day.

As I’m sure you understand, exfiltration transport is not available.

We are out of Holy Relics and are so far from the South.

If you wish to abandon the camp and try your luck on foot, you may do so.

I have neither the power nor the will to stop you.

The barrier will unveil at 0800 hours and remain so for 15 minutes.

Godspeed.

For those who’d rather not Fall Into Depravity, there will be a gathering in the community room at 0777 hours, and Nurse Ghadeer will make multiple means for an end available.

I want to underscore how proud I am of each and every person who decided to stay.

Our choice is the right one.

I just hope... that makes this a little easier."

Malik’s brow tightened as his eyes scanned the note again, his mind working overtime.

The thing was packed with way too much info to absorb in one go.

Still, one line stood out, nagging at him like a pebble in his shoe.

"Fall Into Depravity..."

"What the hell does that even mean? Fallen? In what way exactly?"

Though he didn’t know the meaning, the words left a sour taste in his mouth.

He turned to Jasmine, intending to ask if she could make sense of it.

"Hey, do you—"

But the question died on his lips when he saw her face.