Chapter 323: His Vengeance
Roya, who had spent the first few months throwing barbed insults and attempts at sharp sarcasm, had grown quieter. Not entirely compliant, never that, but curious.
Of course, it was mostly in private, so the students didn’t exactly see Roya do a complete 180, but yeah, she was no longer a thorn that always lashed out but a professor’s pet.
One that watched. Always.
One that kept sneaking into his office.
Malik always let her; it didn’t really matter.
But then one night he decided to do something about it.
Skip a few nights later, he found her standing at his desk once more, finger pressed against the map he’d marked.
One might think he’d finally approach and scare the daylights out of her, but he didn’t.
Instead, he did what he always did: stayed hidden, quiet, and waited until she left.
And yet that night wasn’t like any other night.
That map was planted… and not only that map.
Most of what she saw was something he allowed her to see.
A few glimpses at his grand plan. Some real, but most fake, scenarios that might or might not happen.
Whatever she was planning, he’d be in control of it, awaiting her arrival.
So when the day of revenge came, and she reached for his head, he’d be sure it wasn’t going to ruin any of his many plans.
Everything he did… everything was for that day.
And so, in the month after month that passed…
Every class was the same.
They’d line up at the edge of the training field before dawn, even when it rained, and he’d already be there, right on time, waiting.
Always.
Never late or tired.
He’d stand. Only that.
Sometimes in the shadows.
Sometimes with blood on his robes from whatever insane thing he’d been doing overnight.
His eyes would scroll over their faces, and after a moment, he’d say one thing:
“Start.”
And that was it.
The rest of the day would be pain.
He ran them through mentally degrading obstacle drills. Made them fight each other while holding poisoned blades. Had them channel Aether while balancing on splintered pillars in the dark.
Zafar punched a wall once and screamed:
“Do you even care if we die?!”
Malik blinked.
“No.”
Then turned away.
That was the thing.
He didn’t even pretend to be human.
Again, he gave them no encouragement, celebration, or even rage.
Just that same dead stare, like they were air, something to be walked through.
The seasons turned. Leaves shifted. New students came.
Most left. Unable to handle it.
But the strong?
Or, well, the strong-er?
They stayed.
Trained.
Fought.
And kept coming back.
Every time he told them that they were weak—
They stayed.
Every time he said they’d die like felines—
They stayed.
Because by then?
It wasn’t just training anymore.
It was proving him wrong.
Even if they had to bleed for it.
Even if it destroyed them.
Because deep down, in the middle of all that hate and undeniable respect—
They realized one very obvious fact.
They needed him.
He was the only thing in their world that never lied.
Always constant, always what they expected… the unexpected.
It was tough, very, very, very tough, but the students soldiered through.
Eventually, however, as the years passed, they learned to stop looking for approval.
Once they thought him stingy, but not later on… no, not really.
There simply wasn’t any for him to give.
They gave up on following his insane ideals.
Zafar stopped cultivating entirely, too caught up in his popularity.
Noor left her nest and began to expand outward, cultivating less and less while somehow still gaining strength.
Roya being Roya remained the same, static as all Hell, or so she made it seem.
Besides her constant behind-the-scenes planning, her… visits to Malik’s chambers slowed down, and her hate of Malik continued to increase.
It was to be expected, as she saw her killer nearly every day, acting like he did nothing.
Technically, he didn’t do anything, not yet at least, but logic wasn’t exactly in play here.
So that wasn’t strange; what was strange was how much they needed him.
Or so Malik thought in relation to himself.
He didn’t expect this, but apparently, despite all his communication issues and insane mind, he was quite a good professor.
Zafar’s inflated ego was a direct result of that, because if it wasn’t for Malik, he wouldn’t have never reached such a level in such a short period of time.
But he wasn’t the only one, as Malik’s teachings also made major changes in the others.
Noor rewrote her entire cultivation timings in an attempt to mimic his Aether flow, despite not even understanding the half of it, as it was, at times, and only seemingly, too… unsystematic.
Roya neared Noor’s level of control, now able to use shadows much more fluently.
By the end of the fifteen years, they all reached the starting line and stood awaiting his command to ascend. To be reborn, to become a Jinn, a Divine Demon.
But Malik had them delay their Arba’in pilgrimage.
And that only made them hate him more.
God, they hated him.
There were whole evenings they’d gather in an empty hall and just vent. About how he didn’t care. About how he didn’t see them. About how he treated them like replaceable weights in his routine.
And yet?
They stayed.
Every single one of the complaining bastards stayed.
Because there was something about the way he stood there, shoulders square, spine straight, eyes dead, like the world had already ended for him.
And somehow, that made them want to prove him wrong.
Just once.
Make him feel something.
But he never did.
So they cursed him.
And the cycle repeated.
Yet while they cursed him…
He sat alone in his chamber, bleeding from the mouth, golden veins throbbing, breath shallow, mind splitting open.
Malik didn’t care.
Not about them.
Not about the Chancellor.
Not even about the Academy.
The plan was soon to be completed.
His path was almost clear.
It wasn’t going to be much longer before he’d stretch his hand towards the sky and let it fall.
Tear down everything he despised.
His vengeance.
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