Chapter 388: In The Wake Of Sin

Words : 1136 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Chapter 388: In The Wake Of Sin *** {Outside The Projection} A pity indeed. One felt by all in the hall. They were now sure that their common knowledge of this man was intentional. Yes, he was special; he’d done something great, but most of their Sultans did. The reason why he was so popular was purely because of Malik. He made sure that he was remembered. Malik had truly learned. Rehan’s death... A promise forced upon him. That promise which made him a hypocrite. No longer did he break any after that. *** {Inside The Projection} Fifth Gate: Al-Jaheem. This was even worse. More fire. More Corruption The moment Malik landed, the world around him roared. It was no longer the same ground he grew familiar with, but a completely scorched, black crust that flaked like the charred surface of a damned coal. A planet-sized ember of slow death. The sky was replaced by a horizon made of ash. He didn’t hear the usual unending screams here. Actually, he didn’t even see one of the condemned. ...Perhaps this Gate was not for the body. Malik scanned his surroundings, his cracked skin still healing from the previous Gate. But just as he saw some sort of cave in the flat distance, a sudden pain hit. His skin didn’t peel off, and his mind didn’t break. No, this invisible enemy attacked his soul. He stumbled, barely catching himself from falling. His soul writhed, spasming as if being dragged toward something, torn thread by thread. It felt like hands had reached inside his ribcage and were peeling away every part of him that was him. Death was going to claim him. "Thirst’s Quench." It wasn’t going to be today, however. His eighth Ability. He never used it before now, waiting until the right moment to reveal it. It seemed that after all that had happened, all the near deaths, this was the moment, a moment that brought him to death’s embrace faster than any other. Thankfully for him, despite its disuse, it manifested instantly: a small oasis of pure silver light blooming beneath his feet. The coal cracked, hissed, and then something like steam rose. Where the light touched, the agony dulled. His soul mended, though barely. His Aether returned in trickles. The cold fire still hissed at him, wrapping him like a cloak, but the oasis—that tiny flicker of purity—was a shield. Now he fully understood. This place wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t simply a trial of self, nor one of endurance, of identity, of time. No, it was all of them combined, a trial tougher than all. And if he didn’t push through... He’d join the ones whose souls simply stopped. So Malik did what he had to do—the only thing he could do. He spammed the ability over and over, stepping forward as soon as a new oasis was generated and the old one had ceased, flicking them like beacons across the realm. One after the other. Steps of light on blackened land. He moved across the realm, barely losing speed, looking around the long-forgotten wastes, searching for a scroll, the obstacle, or the exit itself. Miles passed, then hundreds... years of stepping around. He saw others, here and there, Former Sultans, curled in fetal positions, their bodies whole, but something missing in the eyes—if they had eyes left at all. No scrolls sat beside them. They hadn’t had the time. He, of course, knew why. This was way, way worse than what came before. He was struggling badly, having to constantly rotate through thousands of Pathing tweaks just to maintain the Aether uptake and keep the damage at bay. Malik had to find it alone; no one could help him. And so, he never neglected his search. The whole place was scanned. Once. Twice. A third time. ...Nothing. There was no sign of a Gate, descent, or opening. Yes, he spotted a few caves, but those never went anywhere. They were quite shallow, making it seem more like a trench than a cave. The coal down there couldn’t be dug in either; it was nothing. It didn’t make sense. Unless... Malik’s eyes narrowed. A so very ridiculous thought popped up. What if the exit... was of the soul too? If the trial was to walk with pain... Then perhaps the exit would only appear when he became one with it. Without so much as a breath, he deactivated Thirst’s Quench. All his Oases vanished. All of them. BOOM. The fire hit him full force, ripping through every Aether circuit in his core, fraying his soul. He grit his teeth, body shaking, as his limbs moved faster than ever, using all his might as his soul got pummelled even harder with every micro movement, each step launching him a hundred miles forward. Pain became a constant. His silhouette flickered in and out of life. But still, he ran, unfazed by all the death. He marked all possible locations—ridges, ridgelines, oddly shaped burn craters, and long-worn paths left by other doomed Sultans. And now he was tearing through them. Each step would’ve killed a weaker man. That man was not Malik. He was immune. Symptoms of Corruption couldn’t show themselves. But still, he wasn’t a God... he was dying. A fact that he cared not for. He passed one. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. His fingers twitched, and his legs dragged. The edges of his soul started to burn black. It was about to be fully burned and Corrupted. "Ten..." A whisper came. It was his own voice. His soul had ten seconds. That was all. And yet, Malik didn’t give up. "Nine..." He shifted his direction slightly, moving eastward, his final hope. "Eight." The land twisted beneath him. "Seven." He ignored it. "Six." His vision blurred. "Five." His thoughts bled together. "Four..." Everything cracked inside him. "Three." Then... ’Here you are.’ He saw it, a torch before a cave. It wasn’t a real one, but something shining in the land, burning at the end of the world. Malik’s cracked eyes stared... it was too far. Thousands of miles away. "Two." His legs shook. He stepped. "One." He wouldn’t make it. "Zero." And then—as if some hidden part of his Corrupted mind came to life—Thirst’s Quench activated. Directly bequeath the torch. An oasis bloomed, silver and pure. His body, now falling apart, shot forth, crashing across the coals. He hit the edge of the oasis—sliding in just as the damage took over. Unconsciousness claimed him before his body could hit the ground. The moment his skin touched the light, the torch went dark. The coal cracked, and the land slowly, almost gently... Opened up. It swallowed him whole. ...Malik had done it. Now, he was in the wake of Sin.

Chapter 388: In The Wake Of Sin

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