NOVGO.NET Chapter 343: ALL HAIL!
Chapter 343: ALL HAIL!
The execution ground trembled.
People felt their knees weaken.
And Thueban had it the worst.
But he remained standing.
Spreading his arms wide, he called upon his element.
Poison.
Thueban’s fingers trembled from release.
Indeed, he had been preparing this.
Since the first day Malik ever stepped foot onto this land, or perhaps even earlier, ever since the first noble under him fell to the guillotine. A plan Z in case everything went wrong… and now, everything had indeed gone wrong.
He faced a man he shouldn’t have.
All that was left for him was to open the gates.
“Seyr-e-Ezhdehâ-ye Sammîn.”
He muttered a name, one not fit for mortal tongues.
It spoke of a march, the March of the Venomous Serpent.
The execution platform shivered.
Poison answered.
It slithered from the ground beneath his feet, both black and green, bubbling and breathing, curling like smoke but heavier, hungrier, ready to devour. It bled from the walls, from the etched marble, and from the veins of the stone itself.
Venom practically spilled from everywhere.
The guillotine itself had groaned.
It cracked open at its center, the blade dripping with thick bile that hissed against the air. Even the clouds above darkened to a deep green, and from them, a slow rain began to fall.
Every drop was poison.
This wasn’t just a woven spell or concentrated element.
This was Thueban’s very soul, his last testament to a world he hated.
The crowd screamed, many of them fleeing.
Others dropped to their knees, vomiting from the sheer toxicity in the air.
But other than the vomiting, those that remained were more or less unharmed.
Malik’s people made sure not a drop would land on any of them.
This was their first… outing since their rebellion began, and he was not about to scare them back into their hiding holes.
It was always uplifting to see a man fighting for his life…
A man about to be executed.
Yeah.
Anyhow, Malik didn’t move.
He watched, measured, and waited.
Because he knew exactly what this was.
A Mithqal-rank attack.
An attack beyond the ceiling of his Divine Rank.
An attack with just so much preparation that it completely broke through its boundaries.
One that squashed a Jinn’s existence. A singular miracle, unrepeatable.
Something that even the King of Noor could never hope to do.
But Malik… to survive, he had to replicate it. In moments. Repeat the unrepeatable.
Perform a miracle. Do what the snake bastard took at least fifteen years to do in just moments.
And, of course, it was not only that…
He had to make it stronger, enough to defeat the snake.
Enough to keep him alive.
{Zephyr’s Kiss}
The wind began to churn.
Sand materialized, subtle at first as it rolled along the ground, then it rose.
Higher, wider, and faster, forming a storm like that of the North.
A storm of insane force.
But this one was concentrated on Thueban.
{Sandveil} activated next, coiling around Malik like armor.
Each grain moved in complete sync with the other, ensuring not a single opening was left for the snake to target, for the snake bastard only needed a single touch to kill Malik.
Another layer thickened at his skin, entered his veins, and seeped into his muscles.
That was his {Goliath’s Fall}, growing his limbs heavier, denser, fueled by the sand. His bones humming with strength, a most extreme amount of it.
Beneath his feet, two glowing hoof-marks burned onto the stone, red and gold.
It was his {Devil’s Footsteps} at play.
Every step now held ruin.
Spine Splitter rose further.
Its white blade wavered then split open, revealing a mirage.
This mirage held not only heat but also venom.
A pin-sized fleck of {Scorpion’s Sting} hung at the edge of the blade like dew.
A venom that sizzled, for the blade itself began to blacken, darker than night, but from within where threads of gold crawled.
The air around him felt like Hell.
That was his {Ember’s Touch}.
A fire only he could hold.
And hold it he did.
Thueban’s attack had finished forming now.
A snake, both monstrous and divine, coiled from the combined bile of the land.
It hissed, or at least made the motion of it, but no sound came out.
Or maybe it did, but they just couldn’t hear it.
Their world was now only this ground.
This attack.
A “FALL.”
Malik didn’t need to announce anything.
He was ready, so he simply stepped forward.
The sound of his heel cracked the entirety of the execution ground.
Everything shattered behind him, entire sections of the station demolished at once.
Thueban pointed, and the serpent shot forth.
It met Malik’s lunge and thrust.
One clean motion.
From Spine Splitter’s tip came a beam of fire, sand, and poison.
It was a golden flame laced in death, every Ability fused into one impossible strike.
The fire hissed.
The snake shrieked.
They collided.
And the world went white.
The impact wasn’t felt at first.
Only light was in this kingdom.
Then there was a bloom of impossible color.
Both green and gold rippled outward and upward.
Then, and only then, came the sound.
It wasn’t exactly describable.
As if mountains were collapsing into each other.
But if one were pressed to describe it, then perhaps—
SKRAAAAAAAAAAAK-THOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!
Would be the answer.
A mushroom cloud unfurled above the station, turning the sky a toxic yellow.
The sandstorm ended all at once.
The wind screamed and ran.
Runes on the walls cracked, their glow sputtering out, only held by the frantic efforts of dozens of Magi in the distance—Kahins and Sahirs alike, hands raised, teeth clenched and bleeding, their cores overexerted.
The crowd was silent, and not because they chose to be, but because they couldn’t even try to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Time passed.
Minutes, maybe.
Then, when the smoke settled…
Only one man still stood.
…Malik.
His sword still burned.
His black cloak fluttered.
And before him stood what was left of Thueban.
His knees had given out, his body charred black from the blast, and his veins glowed green, bloated with his own poisonous divinity, or perhaps that was Malik’s.
Either way, he wasn’t breathing, even if his face seemed locked in agony.
His snake had died the worst kind of death: fire and poison.
Malik lowered his blade.
No words left his lips.
Again, it was just silence.
And behind that silence…
A nation watched.
What a death it was.
And what an attack this was.
The Light above them dimmed.
It went cold, rejecting Thueban’s plea.
Love for him was forgotten.
His past was forgotten.
Only Malik was left.
And it shone upon him.
It spoke for him.
The people knelt.
To him, to what he represented.
The weight of truth… a pillar of faith.
“ALL HAIL!”
“ALL HAIL!”
“ALL HAIL!”
“ALL HAIL!”
“ALL HAIL!”
A mantle heavier than any other.
“ALL HAIL!”
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