Malik stopped mid-stretch, his arm frozen halfway over his head.
Slowly—very slowly—with eyes that could melt the North, he turned to look at Sinbad, like he was trying to see into his soul.
"......What?"
The boy shrank a little, his hands flailing in panic.
"I-I know what a Seeker is! I'm just saying we didn't meet any yesterday! Honest!"
"..."
"..."
"...Fine. But just wondering. You know any Rafiqs?"
"No...?"
Malik squinted at him for a long, awkward second before letting out a flat:
"I see."
He turned back to face the outside of the cave, his expression blank as if he were trying to process the world's dumbest riddle.
The same daybreak light was filtering in.
The same faint screeches echoed behind them.
Huda stirred nearby, still sleeping.
Malik closed his eyes and a smile made it on his face.
"Sinbad, how long we've been here?"
"Um... seven days."
He nodded his head...
"Yeah."
And his lips trembled a little.
"Did I... did I ever ask you what you wanna do when we get outta here?"
Sinbad raised a brow, internally wondering what brought this up.
"Huh? Not really, no."
Malik scratched the back of his neck.
"Well... can you tell me?"
Still lost, Sinbad shrugged but answered anyway:
"I dunno... Never really had any goals or anything before meeting you... but now, I-I want to become a Seeker... A-Adventuring is fun~!"
Malik nodded again, like he was filing that away.
"Thanks for telling me."
Sinbad tilted his head.
"W-What about you, big bro?"
"Me? Uh... well, aside from, y'know, staying alive, I guess I wanna open up a shop in Suq Al-Khamis. Maybe even expand later, hit the road, and do the whole traveling merchant thing."
Sinbad blinked, surprised for half a second before it clicked.
"Oh, dude, that sounds awesome!"
***
{Outside The Projection}
While the two continued to talk, the hall remained silent, until one brave man in the crowd announced what was on everyone's mind:
"...Rafiq killed him in his sleep."
The second the world blinked, everyone watching pieced it together.
It was obvious. Painfully so.
But Malik?
He'd been out cold, completely missing that weird flicker of reality.
Now instead of showing surprise at his death, the crowd was pissed.
They'd been gearing up for some clash—their Sultan versus some Seeker.
A malnourished kid against a calculated hunter.
Instead, they got... well, this.
"Seriously? Killing a kid in his sleep? What a coward."
"I get that Seekers are all about being careful, but come on. Was this really necessary?"
"You think he was after Lady Huda and Sinbad?"
"Obviously. What other reason could he have to take out the Sultan like this?"
"Yeah, no way it's a coincidence."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall and the chatter grew louder.
"And here I was thinking Seekers had some standards. Guess I was wrong."
"Hah, standards? From them? The moment they smell profit, they're worse than monsters."
"Is that so? Well, fuck you too."
"Of course you naive golden spoons will complain!"
"Fuckers thinking they're better than us!"
While those younger groups fought with each other, a dumbass decided that it was his turn to speak:
"It's still crazy to think he pulled this off while the Sultan was right there. I mean—come on, he didn't wake up for any of that?"
A frustrated groan was then heard loud and clear:
"He's twelve! What do you want him to do, develop some snake radar?!"
During all that, the 'named' stayed silent, both body and mind—intently watching as the projection hung on Malik's still form, curled up like a weight was pressing down on his back.
And though no one dared say it aloud, a single thought loomed over them:
Will their Sultan finally claim his first blood?
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik's mind pieced together the fragments of déjà vu.
The same question. The same sequence of events. The same everything.
He hadn't survived the night. Somehow, he'd died. And now, he was back.
Again.
The seventh day was his new "checkpoint."
And it didn't take him long to figure out how death claimed him.
Rafiq.
That snake of a Seeker hadn't just stumbled onto them by chance.
He'd come here for Sinbad and Huda, knowing exactly who they were.
The kind smile, the easygoing attitude—it was all a front.
Malik clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms.
He wanted to scream, to rage, but there was no time for that.
Sinbad needed to be safe. Huda needed to be protected.
"You're staying here."
Sinbad frowned, his confusion plastered all over his face.
"W-Why? What's wrong? D-D-Did I do something?"
"Nothing."
Malik forced a grin—it looked about as natural as a rock trying to smile.
"Just gotta make sure we're all set for the night."
Sinbad didn't argue, though his lips twisted like he wanted to say more.
In the end, he just flopped back down next to his sister, watching Malik like a worried puppy.
Malik ruffled the kid's hair—half affection, half to shut him up—then knelt next to Huda.
She was curled up in a little ball, her tiny breaths steady and soft.
"I'll be gone for a bit, kiddo."
He brushed the hair from her forehead, pressing a quick kiss there.
Huda stirred, muttering a sleepy little, "Mhmm…" before settling back into dreamland.
It was almost enough to make him stay. Almost.
"I won't take long."
Malik murmured as he stood up and turned to the exit.
"Be careful."
He glanced back, catching the kid's big, worried eyes.
"I will."
The second he stepped outside the cave, though, any semblance of emotion fell off his face like it had never been there in the first place.
It was just blank, hollow.
The Malik inside the cave?
The older brother, the smartass, the tired kid cracking jokes?
That guy stayed behind.
This Malik was different. Entirely different.
His steps were silent as he walked, eyes narrowed and fixed ahead.
'...Kid's sharper than I gave him credit for.'
Sinbad had noticed.
Maybe not what, exactly, but the kid could feel something was off.
And he, unfortunately for everyone involved, wasn't wrong.
...
A few minutes later, Malik could be seen trudging up a hill, hands clasped behind his back, seemingly not in any kind of rush.
By the time he reached the top, he flopped down cross-legged like it was his throne, letting out a quiet sigh as the cool breeze hit him.
The grass around him rippled like waves in the wind, but he didn't even blink at it.
His eyes were glued to the sky, waiting...
Waiting for his prey.
And he didn't have to wait long.
Just like last time, Rafiq came gliding down, that weird Holy Relic of his spreading out behind him.
Then came the shriek.
Out of nowhere, the "Skybastard"—or if you're fancy, the Roc—dove in, faster than either of them could blink.
Its massive talons tore right through Rafiq's chest, leaving a burst of blood in the air.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
His scream ripped through the silence, and before the Roc could finish him off, his body got yanked into an Aether pocket.
When he came out the other side, gravity did the rest, dropping him into the ground, his body crumpling on impact.
'Hm.'
Malik didn't move.
He stayed perched on the hill, watching.
Waiting.
Only when the bird flapped away did he rise to his feet, brushing dirt off his pants like this was just another day.
With a lazy stretch and a yawn, he started making his way down the hill.
By the time he got close enough to see Rafiq, the guy was already a good ten percent of the way through patching himself up.
Crunch... Crunch...
Hearing the sound of crushed grass, the Seeker looked up, startled at first, but quickly masked it with a wary smile.
"What the hell's a kid like you doing out here?!"
Malik shrugged like it was no big deal.
"Ah, you know how it is for beggars. Couldn't take it anymore, so I figured I'd off myself. Joke's on me though—I survived."
Rafiq snorted, half-amused, half-exhausted.
"You're one lucky bastard."
"Guess so."
Malik crouched a few feet away, staying casual but giving Rafiq a once-over.
The guy was a mess—sluggish movements, bandages that looked like a five-year-old wrapped them—but what really attracted his eye?
The Shamshir hanging off his belt.
"You look like you're on the wrong side of lucky though."
Malik kept his tone light.
"Need a hand or something?"
Rafiq shook his head, already tired of the conversation.
"Nah, I'm good. Just part of the job."
"Uh-huh... But, like, you sure?"
Malik asked again, that grin of his sticking around.
"You look like you really, really need some help, man."
Rafiq forced a weak chuckle, but the tension in his voice was obvious.
"Like I said. I'm. GOOD."
He pointed in the direction of the river.
"How about you go dip for a bit? Water's quite refreshing."
His words came out steady like he hadn't noticed a thing—but Malik wasn't buying it for a second.
Rafiq's eyes were narrowing now, his posture a little too stiff.
Yeah, he'd caught Malik's gaze darting down to his waist, to that shamshir strapped there.
Malik wasn't exactly being subtle—a flick of his eyes here, a quick glance there—short, sure, but that was more than enough.
And it was to be expected. Rafiq wasn't all that dumb.
The Seeker shifted ever so slightly, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his blade.
Muscles tensed under his torn, bloody shirt, ready to act.
But Malik didn't wait.
Without warning, he lunged, going straight for Rafiq's belt like a wild animal.
"DIE!"