{Outside The Projection}
"Ohhh~, he wiped the floor with you all."
That was what basically everybody was thinking.
But not a single soul said it out loud.
Because those kids getting tossed like dolls in the projection?
Those were their leaders. Their nobles. Their best of the best.
Roya—THE information broker. Noor—the Emperor of Light. Leader of the strongest faction in the west. Zafar—the White-Haired Prince, Leader of the Coalition, the "Untouchable."
Well... he got touched.
One old man near the back couldn’t take it anymore.
"HAHAAHHAHA! He got folded like bread dough!"
It was the same troll that always clowned on Zafar.
His friend, the sandal-throwing troll, whispered back:
"He got uncle’d, brother. Just... CRACK!"
"Sent him flying—pfhahaha—"
The elders next to them glared.
But even they couldn’t pretend they weren’t shook up by it.
Because, for all their pride and position, they never once made Zafar bleed.
Even as he grew up amongst them, in their care, under their collective tutelage.
And now? They were seeing Malik ever so casually—
Every move of his had echoed in the hall, easily squashing any of theirs.
It was incredible, but their surprise hadn’t only come from the obvious disparity between them.
Now that they were watching this from Malik’s perspective? From his eyes? Eyes that belonged to someone so much more powerful. They realized just how dumb Zafar’s luck was.
"What the fuck is that?!"
"His luck’s busted, man!"
"You saw that curve??"
"He wasn’t even aiming!"
"That rune was pointed sideways, sideways! And it still hit!"
"That isn’t just luck! That’s like... fate saying, "Yes, Lord," every time he swings!"
"Uh... Ya’ll forget about his Fortune’s Wheel or some—"
And still, despite all that he had going for him, all he managed was one hit.
Sure, that hit was surprising for most, very, very surprising, but at the end of the day, it did nothing, absolutely nothing, not even pushing him back, and Malik successfully made sure that it never happened again.
Now, while the crowd went off, the front was relatively quiet.
Layla leaned back, a smug grin crawling up her face.
Safira was already chuckling.
"Ohohoho, look at Teach wrecking them like children."
Huda smiled the brightest, barely stopping herself from dancing in front of the two.
"Should’ve cleared the field~. Should’ve cleared the field~. Should’ve cleared the field~."
Their camps all looked at Noor and Roya, wanting to see how they’d react.
Everyone expected them to.
Frown maybe. Maybe say something.
But no. They stood like stone.
Noor’s face was blank.
Roya’s was blank too.
They didn’t flinch watching themselves get slapped around, didn’t twitch when Malik’s fire nearly singed their bones. Didn’t even blink when Zafar got cratered.
A man in a bright world did the same.
This was a memory they would rather pretend didn’t exist.
A memory that no one mentioned the meaning of.
For it confirmed one thing.
One thing that kept being brought up.
One thing that they all despised without exception.
One thing that stood in their faces, demanding to be acknowledged.
Malik’s literal request for death.
Out of context, it seemed like a somewhat extreme way of teaching, but with what they knew?...
With the context that was so repeatedly shoved in their minds?
It was a whole other beast.
{Inside The Projection}
The sky burned orange.
The last heat of the day clung to the walls.
Crickets chirped somewhere. Off in the distance, bells rang for prayer... or death.
But here, in this dueling arena tucked deep behind the Academy halls, no one was thinking of these sights and sounds.
Zafar stood in front of Malik.
Bloody lip. Sweat down his back. Hands clenched into fists that weren’t sure whether to punch or give up.
"You’re back up again..."
Malik’s voice came flat.
Zafar nodded with a smirk.
"I won’t stop until I get another hit in."
Malik stared at him unblinkingly, then said:
"Last week was a fluke. It won’t happen again."
Zafar didn’t say anything back and stepped forward, while Malik patted off his shoulders in response, standing straight.
The round started slow.
Zafar didn’t lunge in right away.
He circled. Measured his footwork. Tried to stay light, just like he’d seen Roya do.
Malik, like what seemed to be the usual between the two, didn’t move at all.
He waited, wanting to see improvement.
Zafar made his first move.
A quick jab of fire aimed for the solar plexus.
Malik parried it with the back of his wrist, then stepped forward, his body low.
Just as his foot landed, a brutal elbow shot into Zafar’s gut, sending him stumbling back.
He used no flame or Aether, just bone and muscle and technique.
Zafar coughed and wiped his mouth, eyes sharper now.
Malik’s golden orbs fell upon him.
"I don’t enjoy anything."
Then came another round.
Zafar tried again, weaving under Malik’s arm, aiming a kick toward his ribs.
He connected, or so he thought, as it was Malik’s knees, making him wince as if he had kicked a wall of something stronger than steel.
Malik grabbed the boy’s ankle, twisted, and brought him down.
Zafar groaned, his face pressed against the stone.
If Zafar had shown his face in the hall right then...
Everyone would’ve screamed the same damn thing:
This entire time, all that big talk, all that smug shit he used to say about how Malik was THE Villain, a tyrant, a butcher, a devil with no soul—
Zafar used to train with the man.
Get his ass whooped by him. VOLUNTARILY.
If it were a lesson like earlier, and he had no choice, they’d be fine with it. It was still weird knowing that Malik had taught his killers, on purpose, all a part of some grand plan, but whatever, it was acceptable.
No, it was a lot more.
And it told them a lot more.
This wasn’t some clean-cut hero vs. villain story.
This was way messier. Way deeper. And way more personal.
And if Zafar’s face was any indication, that was just the beginning of it.
{Outside The Projection}
The crowd could barely believe it.
Zafar had told half the story like a damn coward.
"Bastard left all the spicy shit out!"
"Man said he stood against a monster... Meanwhile, he was out here learning footwork from the same monster—"
Someone added, loud as Hell.
It was probably the old troll, but no one bothered to check.
They were too surprised to care. As were the two most despised "heroines."
Noor’s eye kept twitching. That tiny, rare tell that something had struck a nerve.
Meanwhile, Roya’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.
She was confused... or perhaps in realization.
Perhaps a piece of a puzzle had just slammed into place, and now the picture was starting to look... different.
Neither of them spoke.
But they were definitely watching closer now.
Because if this were true... and if this were a regular thing, not just some one-off lesson...
Then that meant a lot of what they’d been told was all lies.
It was Zafar who had lied to them.
The very man they claimed was useless.
Was he playing them all that time?
Was the "hero" lying to them about that, too?
Or did he think it wasn’t important, like the fact that he was fucking ADOPTED?
But IF that really was the case...
Then this whole damn war might’ve been built not only on misunderstandings and an unfathomable plan from Malik but also on Goddamned bullshit.
They didn’t know if this made it worse.
And they could do nothing but accept it.