Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

Chapter 327: The Beginning Of Your End

***

{Outside The Projection}

The hall was still split.

Even if the blades had been lowered, the lines were drawn.

Noor and Roya’s camp hadn’t moved back, nor had Azeem’s.

The air was so thick with leftover killing intent, one could chew on it.

No one said it, but everyone felt it over and over, a thought that didn’t leave them for a second—war had been a blink away. One bad breath, one twitch too fast, and they’d have been stepping over each other’s corpses.

Sinbad, only he kept it from boiling over.

Only him.

Even now, he didn’t say a single word.

Yet, and again, he didn’t need to. That look was enough.

A silent message from someone who knew too much and could break too many.

“Try it. I dare you.”

So they didn’t try.

But they didn’t forget either.

One could see it in the way the sides still avoided eye contact.

The way the younger ones gripped their weapons just a bit too tight, even though nothing was happening. The way Safira’s foot kept tapping. The way Duban stood between her and Noor like some kind of human shield in case things exploded again.

Layla had her hand on Huda’s shoulder, probably just to calm her down, but it wasn’t working. Her eyes were locked, colder than even Roya’s.

And speaking of, Roya looked like she was planning at least five assassinations in her head. Maybe six. Possibly seven.

Sure, her daggers were sheathed, but her rage wasn’t.

Azeem had sat back down, going quiet again, and not because he regretted what he said—no, that bastard was proud of it—but because even he knew this wasn’t over.

All it needed was a second spark to light the fire.

But no one struck the flint.

They all just stood there.

Simmering.

Stewing.

Waiting.

Meanwhile, the projection rolled on.

And this time, not everyone was watching.

Again, most of the hall still kept side-eyes on their enemies, just in case someone was crazy enough to go for round two.

But a good few?

They were glued to the projection.

Because this wasn’t just any king.

This was the King of Noor. Of Light.

And all eyes naturally turned to Noor, who had her jaw clenched so hard her neck was trembling.

She was locked in.

That was her father up there.

The man who had called her useless. Who had ignored her for most of her life. Who sent her off to the Academy not as a gift of opportunity but as a polite banishment.

A pretty exile.

And now?

Now she saw him clapping for Malik like he was a prized warhound.

“You trained them well.”

“You turned them into true Magi.”

“You’ll give a speech, yes?”

Her father.

Applauding him.

The one won against her in every turn.

Who humiliated her all her life and saw her as a damn wolf to cage!

It was like being slapped across the soul, and the worst part…

He wasn’t even cruel about it.

Her father simply didn’t care.

He said all those things about Zafar. About Roya. But when it came to her, he didn’t even say her name. Just glossed over her like she didn’t matter, a background piece to Malik’s story, crediting him for her unnaturally rapid increase in talent, and calling her his failure.

For the first time since this whole vision-showing madness began…

Noor… smiled?

Yes, she revealed a normal smile.

It wasn’t out of pride or peace, but out of pure, burning, scalding hatred.

She enjoyed watching the projection now… in quite a different way.

It was because, well, she wanted it to get worse.

She wanted the world to see just how rotten the line of Al-Ayan really was.

She wanted the crowd to feel what she had been feeling her entire life.

And she wanted all of that to fall before them. Be utterly destroyed.

Noor knew that her want would be fulfilled, so even as her fists stayed tight on her sides…

Her smile never left.

***

{Inside The Projection}

The moonlight was silver.

Twelve moons in the sky, all full and watching.

The Upper District Square of Al-Ayan was packed shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, noble to beggar.

Thousands had gathered, spilling out from the paved terraces into the flower-coated streets.

Soldiers stood in polished formations around the perimeter, dressed in their ceremonial armor, their blades raised high.

Horns had long gone quiet. Cheers had died out. All that remained was breath and heartbeat and torchlight and…

Malik.

He stood alone on a podium.

It housed no banners or flags, only him.

The crowd had gone still the moment he appeared.

His arrival came with no announcement or fanfare.

No one even knew when he’d arrived.

But there he was.

His face was blank as usual.

His robes and cloak were the same black with orange trims.

His golden hair was shoulder-length and tied back into a rat tail that reached his ankles.

An undeniably handsome man.

Malik scanned them.

His eyes were unblinking and unhurried.

He saw the Chancellor off to the side, arms behind his back.

He saw the king watching from his flying palanquin high above, flanked by two of his wives and sipping from a silver cup.

He saw Zafar, Noor, and Roya seated on the raised benches reserved for the honored.

Each of them was dressed in formal Academy robes, having decided to stay and not join their fellow students’ pilgrimage send-off earlier that day.

Perhaps Roya told them of what was coming.

But they didn’t know what was coming.

No one did.

Except for him and his people.

But so very soon, they all would.

“For those who don’t know me…”

The torches flickered.

“I’m Malik. A Senior Professor at Nourzadah.”

The square carried his voice to every corner perfectly.

“I’ve been here for fifteen years.”

A small shift took hold in the crowd.

He let it settle before continuing.

“And I’m proud to announce that all of my students have graduated. Nearly all of them are now well on their way to becoming Jinns.”

The crowd stirred a little again.

Some smiles, some applause, a few people clapping politely, not quite sure how to react.

They’ve been celebrating this miracle of an achievement all day, so hearing it again now didn’t excite them all that much anymore… it was confusing.

Malik didn’t wait for them to decide how to celebrate, however.

“Thanks to your sendoff earlier today, their hopes are sky high.”

Something in his voice faintly changed.

“And I’m sure all of them will come back ready to… show off.”

It was colder and sharper.

“But unfortunately…”

People didn’t notice at first.

“For them…”

The nobles kept smiling.

“And for you…”

The younger students leaned forward.

“There will be no place they could show off to.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

The crowd fell silent.

A breeze moved between the torches, but none of them flickered.

Malik raised his right hand, which held his sheathed Spine Splitter, and pointed it at the palanquin.

“This is the beginning of your end.”

And then he dropped it, making it hit the podium with a deafening THUMP.

All at once, twelve massive flames erupted from the outer edges of the kingdom.

Pillars of fire.

Each shot skyward, cracking stone and rending clouds as they rose.

They met in the center of the heavens with a soundless pulse, sealing the entire kingdom under a dome of fire and golden light.

Aether twisted. The very sky shimmered with heat.

Then came the screams.

Dozens.

Then hundreds.

Thousands.

People pushed and shoved.

Yelled at each other.

Children wailed.

Mothers screamed for their sons.

Husbands screamed for their wives.

Soldiers dropped their spears.

Malik stood motionless in the middle of it all.

He watched all he did, memorized it, and then, with a final look…

“Do not resist if you wish to live.”

He ended his “little speech.”

“Thank you for listening.”

Ever so casually, he put his sword in his belt, and turned his back to them.

He walked, no longer using what was once his cane.

Behind him, the king’s palanquin was nowhere to be seen.

In his place came Malik’s people, those of the Silent Crescent, surrounding the entire square.

“You have made us choose between two choices!”

Their voices rose as did their blades.

“Between battle and humiliation!”

Al-Ayan loyalists, soldiers who sold their souls, began to group up.

“And how impossible is humiliation for us!”

The rebels met them in battle.

GHOOOOOAAAAN!

Warhorns resounded…

And the kingdom fell into chaos.

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