Chapter 310: Inside Man
***
{Outside The Projection}
Unsurprisingly, the crowd didn’t have much to say about this chancellor.
Except for the old Magi and a few of their leaders, most weren’t exactly familiar with him, seeing him now for the first time ever.
His knowing of Malik was expected; he wouldn’t have remained in that position otherwise.
Malik was his enemy, the enemy of all of Al-Ayan; it was his job to know.
Or perhaps he was special, having certain… interests in Malik.
Either way, yeah, that didn’t surprise them.
What did, however, was the Nourzadah Academy itself.
It had them all just standing there… blinking.
Their eyes weren’t on Malik or that creepy-looking Chancellor.
No… Their eyes were on the palace.
It wasn’t just a building.
It was NOURZADAH.
Once, it was a legend among nobles.
A legend that was burned to the ground.
A legend now tainted by the less fortunate.
Its name spoke of its creator’s intentions.
{Nour}, which was {light}, and {Zadah}, which meant {born of} or {descendant} in Old Tongue. Combined, Nourzadah meant {Born of Light} or {Descendants of Light.}
A place devoted to the pursuit of wisdom and enlightenment.
“…Was that really it?”
“No way—it’s the Academy?!”
“It looks so different.”
“I-It doesn’t look real.”
“The towers… they’re floating.”
“Look at the runes! It’s breathing Aether!”
“That’s not even architecture; that’s—what do you even call that?!”
“Divine craftsmanship.”
An old man muttered under his breath, fingers twitching.
“It’s older than any kingdom we know… comparable to the ziggurats of the East.”
One noble scoffed, adjusting his gold-threaded sash, but even he couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“I always thought it was exaggerated. I was wrong.”
“Yeah… you and the rest of us.”
Because here was the thing: most of them had never seen Nourzadah.
Didn’t matter if they were Lords, generals, or high-ranking Magi.
Back then, that place?
That place wasn’t for them.
It was for the chosen.
For the top bloodlines, the elite of the elite.
Even the Sons of Solomon struggled to find a place here.
The future of the world was raised behind those very walls.
To see it now, like this, through Malik’s eyes? It was like being handed a forbidden fruit… just to watch someone crush it in his palm.
“It’s a whole city.”
A young boy whispered, enamored by the view.
“And those stairs…”
The scarred woman completed his thoughts:
“High chance the same Arcanist built the Well of Eternity.”
The silver-bearded man next to her nodded his head in agreement.
“Maybe it’s even older… it was a bit lacking compared to the Well.”
The old man standing before them turned to the projection.
“Hmm… I wouldn’t say ’lacking’ when describing that, but yes, perhaps it was a first draft.”
“Yes. They didn’t exactly sing for him.”
“Heh, they groaned.”
The scarred woman revealed a weird sort of smile.
“For whom the bell tolls… huh? It was pretty poetic.”
More murmurs rose, some amused, some confused, but all laced with familiar awe.
“Can someone explain that mirror bit?”
“It was likely a defense system…”
“Reflections, illusions.”
“Every student saw glory in theirs. And his—”
“An hourglass.”
“And it shattered.”
A heavy silence followed that one.
Then someone exhaled.
“…Brother. It realized the Sultan’s end.”
“What he sees as the end, at least.”
“Yeah… Time’s up.”
No one mentioned the Chancellor.
Because honestly, and again, no one gave a damn about him.
He looked freaky. Sure. Strong? Probably. Stronger than Malik? Definitely not. But he didn’t move. Didn’t threaten. Just sat there like a lizard in a robe smiling at a Roc.
The real star was the Academy. And the real shock was that this “stranger,” this walking curse of a man, was inside it.
And no one dared stop him.
No one could.
At least not without agreeing to war.
For war was coming, and they could only delay it.
***
{Inside The Projection}
“…”
Acting as usual, Malik replied with silence.
But the lizard didn’t seem to mind.
He only repeated himself.
“So… The Stranger comes to learn?”
“…”
“No?”
“…”
“I thought so… you’re too strong for that. Even if you’re lacking an ability or two. Perhaps an upgrade even.”
“…”
“Then you’re here to teach?”
“…”
For the fifth time, Malik didn’t reply; he just stared.
The Chancellor chuckled.
“You know, I’ve… read your story. The whole thing. From beggar boy to abyss survivor. From dungeon escapee to thorn in our side. To the man who humiliated us on the battlefield and crushed the hundreds of bandits we sent to retrieve Duban, the new Nasir. The man who led terrorists to victory.”
“…”
Still, still, and still, Malik said nothing.
“You’re not very talkative.”
The Chancellor smiled.
“I like that.”
He stood. Walked around his desk. Hand behind his back, pacing.
“You suffered greatly. We, and the world, tried to kill you more times than I can count. And yet… you survived. Al-Fawra changed you. Whatever happened to you down there made you into… something else. Perhaps it was a lucky encounter. Mind sharing? I wouldn’t mind some of that luck.”
“…”
Malik blinked. Slowly. Still nothing.
“I admire you, Lord Malik. So let’s skip the lies.”
The Chancellor stopped.
“Make me your inside man.”
***
{Outside The Projection}
The moment stretched.
Malik’s silence stretched with it.
And out in the hall, the crowd was stunned.
Not only by the words, but also by how calm he was.
They whispered, wide-eyed:
“Does the Sultan not know who that is…?”
“No, he knows. He definitely knows this bastard.”
“That fucker’s responsible for half his pain—he must’ve overseen the bandits.”
“He might’ve even sent that mortal who got his heart ripped out by the Sultan.”
“The assassins… high chance he had his hands in that too.”
“And the Sultan’s just… standing there.”
Malik revealed no twitch, raised voice, or sword.
He just stared, cold and unbothered.
That was the part that made everyone uneasy.
The silence wasn’t peace.
It was power.
But then…
“Make me your inside man.”
The Chancellor spoke again.
That line hit like a punch.
The crowd all shifted. Eyes wide. Mouths open.
“HUH?!”
“Did he just say—?”
“He wants to defect? Just like that?”
“Is he mad? Or is this a setup?”
“Oh, it’s a trap. Has to be.”
“That was too easy.”
“Way too easy.”
“How the Hell does he just walk into Nourzadah and suddenly have a mole?”
“No, no—who the hell is this Chancellor?”
“Seriously. We just met this guy, and now he wants to betray his masters?”
“Why then? Why the Sultan? Is he banking on how strong he is?”
A few of the older Magi leaned in, grim-faced.
“I don’t like it.”
“He talks too much.”
“No one like that is honest.”
That last line shut a lot of people up.
Because, well, nobody could tell.
Was this luck?
Malik’s luck?
They didn’t think so.
Luck and Malik were as far apart as life was from death.
Or… was this just another step in a much bigger plan?
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