Many thoughts were going through Malik’s mind at that mont, each one pulling him in a different direction.
Dunya had stepped away to give him space, understanding that he needed to decide without her hovering over his shoulder.
That left him standing alone in the middle of the burning settlent, ash drifting around him like dark snow.
First, was it even safe for him to go back to wherever "ho" was?
He assud so.
No one would dare try to assassinate THE Sultan, right?
To them, he was an Angel, for Heaven’s sake, a damned Angel!
But he understood that assumptions had a way of getting people killed.
Second, was returning really his best option right now? Especially since he would soon appear as a much frailer man once the last traces of Rukh left his body.
Again, he could not afford to have his weakness be known, not even by his closest people.
Dunya had co closest to figuring out the truth, but even she only seed to believe that he was going undercover, not that he was anything close to a weakling.
The absolute faith she showed in him revealed that much.
Third, and perhaps most importantly, was he even ready to et his supposed family?
Would they not figure out that he was different than the man they rembered?
Just a calm smile had made Dunya absolutely jump with joy...
What would happen when they realized he did not know their history together?
Technically speaking, he and the Sultan were currently one and the sa, their Souls rged through that painful process of transmigration and Ascension.
But unfortunately, their mories were out of sync, and he was in no way, shape, or form ready to take on the mantle and duties of a planetary ruler.
At least not now.
’Hm... maybe I should get the advice of my system.’
It was what had helped him survive this far, from the mont he woke up drowning in that lake to the mont he burned this heart farm to the ground.
If he were going to make a decision this important, he wanted its input.
And so, the system interface materialized before his eyes, black and gold.
—
╔════════╗
║Fear System║
╚════════╝
{Class: 12 (Bringer of Light)}
{Unlocking Class (11): 0/27}
{Fear Points: 6.5}
{Soul Glyphs: None}
{Invaders Fear}
[White Bear Faction (Class Eight) - 90% Increasing!]
{Runes}
{Traits}
{Quests}
{Shop}
[Soul Glyphs]
{Wheel Of Fortune}
[One Roll — 5 → 6 FP]
[Fate Points: None]
—
Malik studied the screen, his eyes lingering on the Wheel of Fortune tab.
The price had gone up from five Fear Points to six, which was annoying, but he still had enough to spin.
And what better way to get guidance than to let chance decide?
He had gotten lucky before; the Shifting Ground Glyphs had saved his life more than once.
Who could say? Maybe the Wheel would give him sothing useful again.
’One Roll.’
He focused his Will on the Wheel, and it appeared before his mind’s eye, spinning quickly with that familiar ticking sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—the wheel blurred with colors and symbols, and Malik watched it with a flat expression, waiting for it to slow.
Tick... tick... tick...
DING!
—
{Holy Relic — Stranger’s Ring}
—
’...huh.’
He had expected another Soul Glyph, or sothing similar.
Instead, the system had given him a ring.
Ding!
—
╔═══════════════════╗
║NEW HOLY RELIC ACQUIRED!║
╚═══════════════════╝
[Holy Relic — Stranger’s Ring]
[Description: Once worn by the Stranger of the Holy Palace. Able to store Rukh.]
—
’Damn... I’ve been given a solution.’
Malik stared at the description, his mind racing through the implications.
It was not a direct solution to his problem, but it was a solution nonetheless.
One had to understand, the main reason he lost his youthful appearance after his Rune closed up was that all the extra Rukh left his body at once, draining him of the energy that kept him looking like the Sultan his people rembered.
But if he had a way to store that Rukh outside his body and then return it rapidly at needed monts, stretching it out for as long as possible, then his youthful appearance would return.
Of course, that was not the ring’s intended purpose—its main function was to store Rukh and release it in a massive burst for a surprise attack or the like—but that did not matter.
A tool was a tool, and Malik was not above using one in a way its creators likely hadn’t imagined.
’Okay, I’ve gotten the item, but where is it?’
He scanned the system interface and spotted a new line that had not been there before.
—
╔════════╗
║Fear System║
╚════════╝
{Items}
[Holy Relic — Stranger’s Ring]
—
The Holy Relic sat under the ’Items’ tab.
Malik focused his Will on it, calling the ring forth.
A mont later, he felt sothing cool settle around his right pinky.
The ring was an etched silver that crowned a subtly sized erald. Its tal caught the firelight from the burning settlent and threw it back in dancing reflections.
’That looks nice.’
Contrary to what one might think from its na, the ring seed pretty luxurious.
Maybe that was on purpose, a way for the Stranger to move through high society without drawing suspicion.
Either way, it was beautiful, and more importantly, it was functional.
Thankfully, there was still a lot of Rukh leaking out of his body from his recent use of Ember’s Touch, so he pumped it into the ring, filling the erald with Rukh much, much faster than he could have otherwise.
He could feel the ring filling up and growing warm against his skin.
When the last of his excess Rukh had been transferred, he quickly recalled a single burst back.
Looking at his hands, he noticed that their subtle aging had suddenly paused.
’It works...’
If possible, he would have tried to make it a perpetual machine of sorts, where the burst he recalled from the ring would then be returned back to it only to be recalled again, and so on.
But unfortunately, the Rukh was all used up on his appearance, leaving him with nothing.
’I can go now.’
Malik turned to Dunya, who had been waiting patiently at the edge of the burning settlent.
He nodded at her, and she smiled sweetly, hesitantly putting her hand out for him to take.
Malik looked at her petite hand for a mont, then grabbed it without hesitation.
"Hehe."
She giggled softly, the sound strange and breathy coming from her scarred throat, and pulled him along towards a burnt body lying near the entrance of the cave.
A grave began to form beneath the corpse, the sand shifting and darkening.
Dunya stepped onto it with Malik right behind her.
Whiplash ca again, that sa sickening twist of Death, and when it passed, Malik found himself standing in an opulent room.
No, not a room, but a hall.
A golden hall with high ceilings and pillars carved to display Arcane beautifully.
At the far end of the hall sat a Golden Throne that seed to drink in the surrounding light.
Sniffle...
The brother and sister duo were not alone.
Kneeling next to the throne, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking, was a woman in dark mourning clothes.
The mont Dunya saw her, her purple eyes widened, and she disappeared.
Yes, she teleported away in a near instant, leaving Malik alone with the kneeling woman.
He recognized her imdiately, from the system’s earlier answer and the soldiers’ gossip.
She was no stranger, but rather soone he should have known very well:
An absolutely gorgeous dark-skinned woman with white, purple hair and purple eyes, her face marked by grief and sleepless nights.
It was his wife.
Layla.
Malik stared at her for a long while, not knowing what to say or what to do.
She did not seem to notice his arrival, still kneeling before the throne with her head bowed, her body trembling with small movents.
’...is she crying?’
Though Dunya had told him, he was still surprised to see that his wife had not heard of his return yet.
Did the people not want to tell her in case the news turned out to be false?
Perhaps. Or, rather, it was most expected.
The fact that she did not know showed just how cut off from the world she was, too lost in her sorrow.
His people couldn’t dare tell her only for it to be untrue.
That would be too cruel.
In any case, right now, he was not thinking about that.
Malik slowly stepped closer, not wanting to spook her.
"Husband..."
And as he approached, he could hear her mumbling to herself in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
"It’s ... it’s ... it’s ..."
She was calling out for him, repeating the sa words like they were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.
"I’m Layla... I’m Layla... I’m Layla..."
She so desperately hoped that her na would rouse him from his penance and return him to her.
It was a heartbreaking sight.
Malik stopped a small distance away, looking up at the trembling woman who had waited years for a husband she thought would never return.
He did not know what to feel.
He did not know what to say.
He did not know if he was ready for this, did not know if he would ever be ready, but he...
He knew that she was hurting and that, impossibly, he was the cause of that hurt and the cure for it all at once.
"I’m here... Husband."
And so, as she called out to him...
"It’s , my wife."
Malik called out to her.
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