Chapter 155: In This Life
A torch's light shone, blinding him.
Only for it to disappear in the next second.
What replaced it was a miserable-looking room lined with bunk beds.
Before those bunk beds stood two children.
One he immediately recognized as Huda, seeming somewhat sickly.
The other was... Sinbad.
A little boy, not a bird.
Malik looked down and realized he too was a young boy, far too frail and malnourished.
This was when he first met his family.
Before they were forced to flee to the Abyss, for whatever reason.
"Big brother, what's wrong?"
"D-Do you regret taking us with you?"
Malik softly smiled at the two little ones and held out his pinky.
This was a memory of his promise to them.
But just before they could seal it, he froze.
His ears caught the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing outside the room, and his smile dropped instantly.
The reason for their escape had arrived.
"Shhhh..."
He whispered, quickly pulling the blanket over them and pushing the two into the bed furthest from the room's entrance.
Malik held the seemingly sick Huda close, covering her mouth with a firm but gentle hand.
She didn't at all understand what was going on... not that she needed to.
Perhaps thinking that he wanted her to sleep, she let tiredness claim her.
That left Malik and Sinbad to deal with the threat.
The door creaked open.
"Can't get used to this place..."
"Shit's barely holdin' on."
"Eh, the Abyss won't take us.
Three men with an unsteady gait and slurred speech stumbled in.
Malik's stomach twisted as he eyed them.
Damned drunkards.
Slave traders, dangerous and desperate ones at that.
They were on their last legs, clearly out of options.
He couldn't have them see the kids.
"Still smells like piss."
One of them laughed, kicking a hole through the wooden wall just for fun.
"Ain't it just. Hey, where's the little rat? He owes us."
Malik sat up slightly, ready to put his body between the men and the children at a moment's notice.
"Already paid my dues for last week. You were supposed to come tomorrow for the next."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah, and I ain't got shit today, so get the fuck out and let me sleep."
The first man squinted at him, stepping closer.
"What's with the blanket, then? Hiding food again?"
Malik forced a laugh.
"Learned my lesson last time, didn't I? No food. Just me trying to stay warm."
The man stared for a moment longer, then burst into loud, obnoxious laughter.
"Good. Be that way if you don't want your legs fucked up again!"
The second man joined in, and Malik held his breath, hoping they'd leave.
But just as they were about to step out, a small sound made it through his bony hand.
A soft, sleepy grumble.
Huda.
'...Fuck.'
Malik's blood ran cold.
The men froze, their heads snapping back towards him.
"You lied~."
They had heard her loud and clear.
"Probably a rat. Now FUCK. OFF."
Malik gave him the bird and laid back down on the bed.
His acting was natural, award-worthy even, but unfortunately, the first of them wasn't convinced.
"A rat, huh?"
The slaver's face twisted into a sick grin.
"Sounded more like... a cute little fuckable mouse."
Something in Malik snapped.
"Sinbad."
He hissed under his breath, his eyes locked on the boy's terrified gaze.
"Take her. Now. Go."
Sinbad stared, frozen.
"NOW!"
Malik barked, louder this time, enough to jolt Sinbad into action.
The boy scrambled to his feet, scooping up Huda in obvious panic.
She stirred slightly but didn't wake, her small body limp against his back.
Malik didn't wait to see what happened next.
He lunged for his makeshift cane, a withered stick barely strong enough to support his weight, and gripped it tight.
The drunkards laughed as he limped toward them, not seeing an inkling of a threat in him.
"Oh, what's this? The little rat's got some fight in him!"
"Who're you pokin' with that?"
"Better put that stick down before you hurt yourself, boy."
Their insults came one after the other, intent on breaking him down.
But Malik wasn't affected, not in the least.
"DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
His response was a raging scream as he stabbed the stick forward with all his might, aiming for the closest man's privates.
"Urghh—FUCK!"
The impact was solid, a disgusting pop that made the man howl in pain and crumple to the floor.
"Sinbad, RUN! Show me that I wasn't wrong in naming you after him!"
Malik's shout echoed, giving them at least a chance to survive.
Thankfully, it was unneeded.
Sinbad didn't hesitate this time.
He'd already thrown open the window between the bunk beds and climbed up, now standing outside on the protruding limestone.
"O-O-Oh..."
Malik heard a whimpering sound but didn't dare risk a glance.
The boy was out; that was enough.
His job was over.
Whatever happened to them next rested on Sinbad now, more than it did on him.
That, in one strange way or another, gave him a flicker of relief.
"Crippled rat!"
But the moment was short-lived.
The second man charged at him like a bull, aiming to smash him into the ground.
Malik paused a beat, then stepped to the side and jabbed the stick forward, piercing the soft flesh of his gut.
"Gah—!"
Doubling over with a wheeze, the man stumbled past him and crashed into the beds, knocking himself down.
He wasn't getting back up, not for the next ten seconds, but Malik didn't stop.
Pivoting on his left, he kicked the man square in the head, then continued the motion, slamming his stick into the back of the first man's neck, hoping to keep him down.
Four hits.
Four solid hits.
That was all he could manage.
"Let's fuckin' stop this shit, eh?"
The final man, their leader, who'd stood back and watched the fight until now, finally stepped in, wrenching the stick from Malik's hands with a force that nearly dislocated his shoulder.
"You think you're tough, huh? Think you're a little hero?"
"Shut—ah!"
Malik didn't get a chance to respond before the first blow landed, a boot to his back that sent him sprawling onto the floor.
He hadn't seen it coming.
It wasn't the leader who'd attacked him, but the man with the crushed nutsack.
The stick hadn't been enough to keep him out of the fight after all.
"Ugh!"
The second kick came fast, then another.
Malik curled into himself, trying to shield his head and stomach, but the blows kept coming, kicking him around.
"Should've stayed down."
"Fuckin' rat!"
The two he'd injured were beyond furious now, doing their best to inflict the most pain possible.
But whatever focus Malik had left wasn't on them.
It was on their leader.
The one who'd heard Huda's grumble.
The one who'd taken his stick and condemned him to death.
"This rat gave us more trouble than I expected. The kids almost escaped. Good thing I had backup standing by."
Through the haze of pain, Malik heard every word, clear as if it had been said on purpose.
"A little girl... Been a while since I had a pretty little thing like that. Oh, she's gonna make me feel real gooood."
Whatever had snapped inside Malik earlier now fully erupted.
"YOU SICK BASTARD!"
His roar came out louder than any before it, and he struggled to stand with everything left in him, ignoring the searing pain.
"Stay down, you rat!"
It was no use.
One of the men slammed him back to the ground with a kick to his chest, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.
"Ugh!"
Malik wheezed, clutching his sides, and they kept going, enjoying every blow.
His vision blurred, the edges darkening, but he could still hear their laughter, haunting him, taking over his thoughts.
Soon the world tilted.
The pain dulled, but not because it stopped.
No. His body was simply too broken to register it anymore.
That was when they got bored.
No fun in playing with a broken toy.
"Let's go. We'll bury this trash later."
"Yeah, we need to catch the brats before they fuck up and get devoured."
Malik barely felt it when they stepped over him, their boots pressing into his bruised ribs as they walked away.
A much younger version of Malik lay on the wooden floor.
His body was broken beyond repair, his neck stuck staring at the ceiling.
'Get up...'
He could do nothing.
'Get up, get up, get up, GET UP!'
Nothing but a scream inside his own head.
'GET THE FUCK UP!'
'YOU HAVE A PURPOSE NOW! DON'T LOSE IT!'
'DON'T FUCKING LOSE IT!'
'YOU WASTE OF SPACE!'
'YOU HUMAN GARBAGE!'
'WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!'
'GET THE FUCK UP!'
Hot tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood and grime that covered him.
'I hate you… I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I ALWAYS HAVE!'
'You've never done anything but fail me!'
'Their hopes are pinned on us. ON US!'
'You decided to save them. They're your responsibility. And you. YOU'VE FAILED THEM!'
'Failed yourself. Again.'
'But it's fine. It's fine. You can still save them.'
'SO GET UP!'
His fingers twitched.
'Just... please...'
'Do something.'
'Anything.'
'...'
He didn't move.
'...How dare you?'
'HOW DARE YOU LIE HERE AND LET THEM GET CHAINED?!'
'S-She's going to get raped...'
'Please... for her... do it. Get up.'
'GET YOUR WORTHLESS ASS UP OFF THE GROUND!'
Despite his endless screaming, his body didn't listen.
It couldn't.
This wasn't a fantasy story. It was real life.
There was no miraculous surge of strength. No heroic second wind.
He was a malnourished child who'd been beaten black and blue. The fact that he'd survived this long was already a miracle.
Expecting more of him was pure idiocy.
'No... plea...s...e...'
Malik's head lolled to the side, and his breathing seized.
The world around him grew dimmer, his vision slowly devoured.
Then there was nothing.
Nothing but sweet dreams.
...
...
...
...but the world didn't stop there.
A scream sounded outside the room.
It belonged to a young girl.
Huda.
Blink.
A sharp gasp resounded.
Malik jolted awake, his chest heaving.
He stood on no ground; above him was no sky.
No longer was he in Hell.
This was a fake void.
A very familiar one.
And before he could even breathe—
'...did my previous Divine Kingdom send me back through death?'
Malik paused, only now catching up with his memories.
Memento Mori.
Remember, You Must Die.
Finally, Malik remembered his unspoken past.
A past more tragic than any other.
The reason why IT was so... interested in him.
Why IT despised him so much for taking his previous Divine Kingdom from its grasp.
Malik had truly died.
And yet, he lived once more.
Once, he could Return by Death.
Since Malik had remembered before with his dark flower, he didn't lose his mind over it.
So as the memory settled, instead of hurting, he smiled.
There was a very obvious reason for that.
No one could imagine what it was like.
The turmoil inflicted on a man living without a past.
Like a ship lost at sea, forever adrift with no shoreline ever in sight.
Only now, finally, he had a compass to steer by.
In this life.
His final one.
[End Of Volume Three: In This Life]