NOVEL NEXT Chapter 394: Beneath The Olive Tree
***
{Inside The Projection}
Blink...
A slow one this time.
When Malik opened his eyes, it was like nothing had happened.
He was back in Hell, the same frozen fire beneath his feet, Zamharir, the same black skies above him.
Indeed, he was right where he left off.
In the Seventh Gate, in the same exact place...
Right before the True Zaqqūm.
No doubt that... nightmare...
That endless carousel of death, failure, and betrayal—it was supposed to shatter him.
A mental execution... or more accurately, a slaughter of his soul.
Well, it didn't work.
It didn't even scratch him.
Malik stood there, empty as ever.
Hollow as a man could be without being dead.
This journey's last obstacle had failed completely.
Once, Malik might've been affected, but now, such thoughts were...
Meaningless. Yeah, meaningless. He saw no need to think of them, and even if they were true, which he believed they were not, it wouldn't matter to him; he'd be selfish enough to stick to this timeline, to the one where his life wasn't lost, where the world hadn't moved on from him.
'Hm.'
His fingers began to lazily tap Spine Splitter's hilt as he stared at his prey.
That was what he had to end.
Finally, there were no more obstacles.
This was the moment.
Shink.
Spine Splitter slid free.
A weapon with no equal.
A blade carved from something that didn't even exist in this world.
Something bestowed upon him by IT—a being even Rukhs preferred to avoid.
Malik didn't understand why IT had given him this sword, nor what purpose IT served in helping him sever the link between realms of Hell and the mortal world, but he didn't care.
Damn the mind games; his people would be saved.
Taking his usual stance, his Royal Sword Style, Malik activated his Abilities.
When facing Theuban, he managed a Mithqal-level attack even though he was a Jinn.
So what about now, when he'd crossed to Mithqal and had gotten used to his abilities?
Well, there was no need to wait for the answer.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
With one step, Malik vanished.
His abilities went full force instantly, giving no warning.
Aether ignited under his feet, hooves slammed, shaking the realm.
He appeared far, far above the True Zaqqūm, momentarily looking down on it.
Malik didn't admire this curse given shape.
It was a thing that shouldn't exist.
And he would make sure of it.
His Spine Splitter tilted.
His body turned, and...
SHOOM.
He launched down, blade first.
Falling. Falling. Falling.
Faster than anyone his of Divine Rank should.
So fast that before light could catch up...
KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—
The tip of Spine Splitter kissed the root.
SHRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
It pierced.
Ivory flame followed.
And in no more than a moment...
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
The entire bottom part of the True Zaqqūm exploded.
Its roots snapped, and its bark shattered as Corruption—pure, physical, slimy Corruption—blasted upward like geysers, splashing against the ceiling of the Seventh Gate, staining the skies blacker than black.
The tree withered.
Parts of it dissipated like smoke, and it... screamed.
A scream not from the wood but from the souls trapped within.
Souls bound, eaten, and used as fuel for the Corruption that plagued the world above.
In moments, all of the souls were gone.
Malik stood there, sword lowered, his expression flat, calmly watching Corruption float.
It spread to the realm, dissolving in it, returning to where it had come from.
"...No more."
No more would this infection spill into his realm.
So, Malik's eyes kept tracking it, wanting to ensure its erasure.
The flow, the direction, the way the leaking Corruption went up.
His eyes noticed and documented everything.
And he... he began to notice a pattern.
What went high had gone east.
Corruption flew under the sky.
Never was it absorbed.
It wasn't like the rest.
The sky almost acted like a barrier...
It blocked Corruption from going up...
Yeah... earlier, it was stained with Corruption...
'Stained.' The 'sky...'
Malik's eyes narrowed.
...What sky?
Oh, this black wasn't a sky.
Only now did he notice the truth.
All of that above him was a... branch.
A branch likely belonging to the actual True Zaqqūm.
A tree so enormous it wasn't just part of this Gate—it was the entire structure of Hell itself.
A pillar that pierced through the Seventh Gate, the Sixth, the Fifth... straight to the First.
Maybe even further, there was no way to really tell where it ended.
So, what Malik destroyed...
It was no more than a sapling.
A twig of the true curse terrorizing them.
His lips didn't move, but there was a nod.
A simple tilt of the chin, as if to say, "...figures."
He wasn't shocked or mad; this was expected, really.
Rather, it was almost unusual how smooth it went; his luck never really allowed for that.
Stepping forward, boots breaking the frozen ground of Zamhareer, Malik followed the remnants of that twig's roots.
And he watched as...
'Hm.'
The rest of it began to regenerate.
Snapping back into place like nothing happened.
If left alone, there was no doubt it'd return stronger than ever.
...Malik had achieved nothing.
'Of course.'
The True Zaqqūm was connected to something far beyond him, beyond anything in this Gate, maybe beyond the very concept of Death itself, its lifeline bound directly to the True Sultan.
No wonder every Sultan before him only delayed the Fall.
This was... far, far above their and Malik's paygrade.
To even challenge that...
He'd have to be a Rukh, no, an Arraf.
A being whose existence sat above the very Laws of reality.
Attacking it was a lost cause.
But it didn't matter.
Malik didn't exactly need to kill the tree.
Just... cut the cord.
A simple solution.
After a few minutes of walking, he reached what seemed to be the main root.
The artery that tethered this tree to the monstrous horror above, which was still so very far.
Without hesitation, he brought Spine Splitter high, its edge glinting, and slammed it straight down.
SHHHHHHHHHHH-KRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT-CHKKKHHHHH.
The blade shrieked as it bit, vibrating the ground, sparks spitting from the wound.
...It had gotten stuck.
Malik snarled under his breath and shoved down harder.
GRRRRRNNNNNK—SKKKRRTTT!
It pierced through, sinking deeper, inch by inch, only to stop again.
Malik leaned forward, eyes locked on the quivering hilt.
One more push, harder this time.
Every muscle in his body was strained.
His Goliath's Fall was entirely maxed out.
KRRRRRAAAAAAANGHHHHHHH!
His Spine Splitter chewed into flesh-that-wasn't-flesh, tearing through something that didn't bleed yet didn't yield, expanding the crack on its edge, forcing it to pause for the third time.
"Huuuuuup—"
Unrelenting, Malik sucked in a breath, stepped in, and pressed his weight forward until his boots dug trenches into the ground. Smoke curled from his skin; heat roared off him in waves as his muscles swelled, veins nearly bursting.
He could not be stronger than this.
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
Spine Splitter began to scream a drawn-out, unnatural wail that seemed to tear the air apart.
It was trying to slice through a concept of reality itself, causing its existence as a Holy Relic to start breaking.
This was a sword that could slice through anything, as long as the wielder had the Will.
And Malik, despite all that happened, was able to summon every last drop of his Will.
Corruption fought back, resisting its ever-so-sharp edge, but—
KRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
It could not.
The root split like the cracking of the world's spine.
A shockwave tore outwards, WHHOOOMMMMM, lifting Corruption, tearing what stood for air, and rattling the horizon, or rather, the branch far above.
Its connection was severed.
The once rebuilding sapling spasmed, and then...
It went completely still, dead.
...Undone.
Malik's grip left the hilt.
He stepped back and looked down at his weapon.
The sword hummed low, a vibration that traveled into the bones of everything unlucky enough to still exist here.
Malik revealed a smile.
"You..."
Of course, a broken one.
"You've been a good sword."
It hummed again, bidding its owner goodbye.
His smile stuttered for a moment as he looked away.
Ah... wasn't he not going to sacrifice himself or anyone?
Didn't he vow that he'd do this without any damned losses?
He failed.
"Do not forgive me."
This journey had ended in complete failure.
"Goodbye."
Lowering his head, Malik turned around and walked away.
Yeah, and again, that was the sword that had been gifted to him by IT.
The same sword that pulled him out of more death loops than he cared to count.
A sword that might as well have been the only reason he ever made it this far.
Unfortunate but poetic... almost fitting.
Fitting that it went back...
{End Of Volume Nine: Beneath The Olive Tree}