Nothing could move, absolutely nothing.
Not Malik, not Zafir, not Huda, not Noor, not Roya, not Safira… not even the planet’s sun.
A star so massive that it baked Devil Maw’s surface like an oven would a candle was paused, its heat unfelt.
Then, all of a sudden, Malik began to shift, not his body but his soul, moving bit by bit as if he were a stone statue coming back to life.
Tick Tock…
The sound of a clock resounded, and Malik’s soul had finally gotten out of its confines, leaving his body a hollow husk.
‘Fuck just happened?!’
He looked around, quickly realizing that he was now floating a small distance above his body, just where a king’s throne was placed.
Malik tried to fly away, thinking of inhabiting a less… controversial body, but noticed that even now, in his soul form, he was trapped.
Two ethereal chains bound him to his body, locked around his feet.
‘Huh, my soul looks like his now.’
Only then, when he looked down on his body, did he notice an obvious difference.
He was no longer a floating speck of light, but an actual humanoid with an appearance similar to that of the Original Malik.
‘Nice… I’m a handsome bastard at least.’
With those thoughts, he began to experiment, and soon, came to a few conclusions.
Though he was now free to fly about, he couldn’t get far as the chains attached to him had a limit—about ten meters, give or take.
And honestly? He wasn’t in the mood to find out what kind of cosmic paintrain would hit if he yanked on it too hard.
Still, the chain wasn’t what really interested him.
The whole time-freeze thing was way more interesting—and freaky.
Everything around him was stuck in place, frozen mid-motion, like someone had hit the “pause” button on the universe, leaving him the only one moving.
And then there was the whole “out-of-body” thing.
It was wild.
Floating there, untethered except for the chain, Malik felt like he’d accidentally wandered into some bizarre VR game.
He could see himself from the outside, like he was in third-person mode, but it was still him. Trippy.
‘Like I’m some kinda God or something…’
That thought made him pause.
However long ago, he wasn’t even a Celestial, but now, he said things like that with a straight face.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but then he shook his head quickly.
‘Nope, not going there.’
That was how bad ideas snowballed into worse ones.
‘Focus.’
Malik looked around again, waiting for something—anything—to happen.
And…
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
‘Hm… maybe I should—’
He decided on what to do, or rather say, mid-thought:
‘Bassorāh.’
Ding~!
A somehow familiar sound resounded in his mind, and a Script appeared once more.
{Embodiment System has been bound… Malik, you are hereby pronounced as a Blessed Magi of the Lady Of Time.}
Blessed? Magi? Lady Of Time?
Malik didn’t know what any of that meant, though that didn’t stop him from guessing.
The first was easy; he had been Blessed by whoever brought his soul here, and that likely gave him the system in some way or another.
Magi sounded like what people called Celestials in this land; now whether it was just a faraway planet or a whole different universe, he didn’t yet know.
The last was obviously the perpetrator, at least the one that didn’t mind ‘Her’ name being known, as the one truly in charge was likely hidden behind the scenes, a puppeteer stringing this play along.
As if it had been waiting for his thoughts to settle, the Script continued to write just as he reached a conclusion:
{Your life is now in your hands… The more you embody Malik, the stronger you become, reaching the heights you once flew.]
‘Wait, we’ve got the same—’
{Malik…}
The Script had joined the trend as well.
{They’ll see your truth. They’ll see everything you’ve done for them. They’ll see how you’ve become a “villain,” the death you’ve endured. Many of them will cry, beg, and scream; some might laugh it off, and a few others would act indifferent, cringe at your sacrifice, but you… I need you to remain strong. Don’t run away from it. Don’t falter like he did.}
His face turned serious, almost blank, and he looked up, straightening his legs and bowing deeply.
“Lady of Time… thank you for this second chance. Whatever you’re after, I promise I won’t disappoint.”
{…We’ll see.}
The Script crumbled and then disappeared as if it had never existed.
And just like that, everything clicked.
Malik didn’t need to overthink it anymore.
No need to strategize or dissect this so-called “system” of his, or whatever other fancy name it went by.
It was simple now—painfully simple.
All he had to do was embody the memories of the original Malik.
Live through them, survive them, and somehow claw his way back out with his sanity still intact.
His survival beyond the Promised Day—the day after his scheduled execution—hinged entirely on this.
And while it sounded straightforward when one said it like that, anyone with half a brain would know it was anything but.
‘Figures… I wasn’t wrong in my assumptions; two are right. A devil swallowed me whole, and now I’m stuck in hell.’
He smiled.
‘Bassorāh.’
The world had returned to truth, and soon, a Sultan’s life would be on display for all to see.