Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 453

Chapter 453: A Joint Attack

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{Outside The Projection}

Sing me to sleep~…

That appeared to be something quite… common.

An act so commonplace that the hall felt like they were intruding.

The very same emotion they felt not too long ago about the Sultan’s marriage.

Dunya was way too sweet and pure for a world like theirs.

Again, that sweetness didn’t come from naivety.

Rather, it had originated from her lack of it.

Like Sinbad, she was a constant in Malik’s life.

Yes… Dunya was acceptance, wordless mercy, and touch.

Layla, however, was accusations, misunderstandings, and bitterness.

Malik sat in between them, hollow but still needing both.

There was nothing the hall could say to that.

It felt like their wind had been knocked clean out.

This truly was the end, an ‘end’ that Malik had expected.

It was the ‘end’ everyone had expected to come, terrible in its predictability.

He had always walked toward it, and now the projection simply gave them further proof, a cold confirmation. A tragic but inevitable ‘end’ that brought them all to something way beyond shame.

Because while his nightmare had come to life once more, it had brought beauty along with it.

Even now, after years and years of their fights and her grudges, Malik refused to ruin his image of Layla; he would not see her as Corrupted… never again.

He would keep her pure in the story he allowed others to tell.

That was true gentleness… twisted as it was.

And Layla, watching the projection…

She loved that gentleness.

Caring not for the misunderstanding it caused, she felt the rush of it.

This feeling, she remembered it clearly, even back then, when she thought he’d be divorcing her, barely glancing her way, her love was still in her hate, the backbone of what they had.

Indeed, it was what their messy relationship was built upon, alongside a thousand misunderstandings.

Love and hate, though, and again, only one-sided.

One-sided… but so very real.

Malik’s love for Layla was very vague.

Perhaps he felt responsibility more than anything.

Or perhaps it was a love that had sprouted from that.

Either way, Layla didn’t mind that, not at all.

Rather, it confirmed what she had just realized.

Again, mere minutes ago, she believed that Malik wasn’t abandoned by someone he loved.

That, yeah… if there was any mercy in her neutrality, her standing aside, it was that.

A comfort in times when there weren’t any… a knife that twisted her heart now.

And oh, did it twist, twist, and damn twist.

Anyone else would’ve collapsed by now.

But no… she saw that as an escape.

She’d never look the other way.

Never again.

So, after wiping away the remnants of her tears, she glanced at Huda, who was still nearly embracing her, and straightened up.

Leaving the poor girl’s reluctant hold, she walked forward, nearing the pain zone once more.

There, she whispered something under her breath, unheard by all.

Suddenly, death began to materialize around her.

There was no questioning it.

She was preparing an attack, her most ultimate one.

Following her lead, Huda took a deep breath and straightened up as well.

Though her legs continued to wobble, she still managed to stand and do the same with her wind.

Azeem materialized next to Layla, nine of his ten rings glowing, each a different color.

Glancing wide-eyed at them, many in the hall began to do the same as well.

There was no need for them to talk; like his ‘end,’ this too was inevitable.

Every single ‘volume’ that passed them had led to this.

The first of them were a grey-haired man, a scared woman, a familiar old man, an old troll, and their kin, followed by the rest, nearly all copying their leaders.

Dunya watched that scene with a smile.

Sinbad, of course, frowned, as did Scheherazade.

All their threats seemed to have finally lost their fear.

Perhaps somewhere deep, the crowd all believed that those two wouldn’t harm them if there were so many joining the attack, and they were right in thinking so, as not even they would kill this many high-ranking Magi.

It’d be sending Fam Iblis to commit suicide.

Besides, right now, Sinbad couldn’t even control his kin, never mind the entire hall.

And yes, his ‘kin,’ for Dunya left Sinbad’s fluff and pulled on one of his feathers.

“Hee!”

She gestured for him to move down from the Golden Throne’s dais to join the others, to at least stand away from their attacks, and unsurprisingly, he did do just that, not finding it in himself to reject her request.

Both brothers struggled quite a bit with that.

And so, following her down, they joined the rest below the Golden Throne.

Everyone watching understood Sinbad’s leaving of his Elder Brother’s side as him subtly permitting them to prepare their attacks, despite his trepidation, and save their Sultan.

He could always stop them before their attacks shot forth; there was no harm in their preparing while waiting for Safira and her expedition’s arrival.

With that, the hall no longer focused on the projection.

They were done with watching.

Now, it was only their present Sultan, not the past.

The Sultan that was alive.

Damn it all, they were going to save him.

Roya’s moans about this Ten Commandment’s Flaw faded into the corner.

It, whatever Flaw it was, could go to Hell where it belonged.

They cared not for it anymore.

Tonight, they decided it was a problem to be beaten.

The unspoken plan was obvious in its simplicity: compress and condense.

Using the short time remaining, they would pack their strongest spells, their sharpest strikes, and their heaviest weapons and slam them all into it at once in the best possible moment.

A joint attack so dense the Flaw wouldn’t be able to unfurl quickly enough to strike back at them, the Holy Relic too busy trying to save itself to care about anything else, essentially breaking it.

That was the plan, and that was what they were going to do.

Scheherazade, who, like Sinbad, didn’t join them in preparation, watched from the sidelines.

She saw it all, as nearly every Magi who had hesitated, too afraid, found themselves swept along; even the ones who never believed they’d ever fight for a man who killed their loved ones felt the pull of the hall.

Again, they knew the price.

They knew the possibility of death.

They also knew what it meant to watch the man who’d scarred the world keep scarring himself for their sake.

Rage, loyalty, and grief; those things braided into a single, furious compassion.

For the first time since the beginning of this showing, the hall’s petty rivalries collapsed into a single, terrible goal:

‘I WILL SAVE THE SULTAN!’

They would give everything—their very lives—to save their Lord.