Malik sat on his Golden Throne, looking out at the many figures kneeling before him in the Sultan’s Hall.

The most important of Devil’s Maw were all currently pressing their foreheads onto the stone.

Magi who could level mountains and crush entire armies, Magi who were way stronger than Malik currently was, yet they would cut off their own limbs if it meant pleasing him.

And no, it was not entirely from respect, though there was plenty of that in most of them.

It was a cold terror that Malik could feel radiating off their trembling shoulders.

Malik enjoyed their terror.

He wasn’t a sadist, at least not entirely.

This enjoyment was mainly the result of him watching his Fear Points continuously rise on the system screen in the corner of his vision.

Soon, he would be able to unlock the next class in the Divine Hierarchy, to take another step toward reclaiming his true power.

But, unfortunately, he could not keep them kneeling until then. That would be excessive, even for a Sultan, so he finally allowed them to stand with a casual wave of his hand.

"Stand, you traitors!"

Azeem roared from his position beside the throne, and all of the kneeling figures instantly straightened up.

"Face your SULTAN!"

They did just that, hesitantly tilting their head to look at the Golden Throne.

Their Sultan did the same, leaning forward slightly to let his gaze sweep across their assembled faces.

A few looked guilty, their eyes darting away from his, but most looked proud, their chins held high, knowing that they had fulfilled their promise and their loyalty.

"I have seen what some of you have done in my absence. Or rather... what you have not done."

None of those he addressed dared to pipe up and make an excuse or defend themselves.

Thankfully for their own lives, they were not that dumb.

Meanwhile, those who had done their best—who had not abandoned the sultanate in its darkest hours—smiled even brighter, almost gloating at their less-fortunate peers.

"You are right to remain silent. It is not excusable. Did you think that my sultanate was immortal? That we could bear the weight of Devil’s Maw’s existence on our shoulders alone? That you would not be affected if we finally fell?"

He let the questions hang in the air for a moment, watching the traitors squirm.

"Just how selfish and stupid can you be?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

Again, none of them dared to say anything.

They simply took his demeaning words on the chin.

"Once you get back to your little rat holes..."

Malik leaned back against the throne.

"I need you to immediately compensate my sultanate for all you have denied it in all these years. Once that is done, renounce your position to someone worthy and renounce all your personal possessions to me."

His mercy was gone.

"Then, and only then, will I consider letting you live. Do you understand?"

His words shook them enough that, finally, a few of the more foolish ones dared to speak, their mouths opening to form pathetic excuses:

"I-I-I—"

"SILENCE BEFORE THE SULTAN!"

Sinbad and Azeem shouted in unison, cutting the man off before he could get a single coherent word out.

Immediately, all of the traitors’ heads were sent back to the ground, forced to prostrate themselves in a display of absolute submission.

"You have disappointed me greatly."

Malik waved his hand dismissively.

"Now off with you."

Following his Elder Brother’s words, Sinbad flicked a wing towards one of the large windows.

It swung open with a rush of wind.

At the same time, strong gusts of air flung the traitors out of the hall one by one, their bodies tumbling through the air before Azeem could get up and kill them himself.

Their screams faded into the distance, and the window slammed shut.

Meanwhile, the rest of the assembled leaders remained kneeling, awaiting their Sultan to finally address them.

There were far more of them than the traitors, highlighting that, despite how grim Devil’s Maw’s Fate seemed, many kept holding onto their pillar.

A pillar that they saw as larger than life.

"As for you who remained loyal..."

Malik’s voice softened.

"I give my thanks. It is thanks to you and those like you that Devil’s Maw has survived until the day of my return. Expect rewards to come in due time."

The lords all lowered their heads at once.

"Long live the Sultan!"

"Long live the Sultan!"

"Long live the Sultan!"

Their chant rose and filled the hall.

It was a chant that Malik grew used to by now, becoming more in line with his status.

Eventually, before their voices could give out, he nodded at them, sending them away.

And that they did, beginning to walk away without even turning their backs to the throne.

They walked backwards, their eyes fixed on their Sultan until the last possible moment.

Once they were gone and the massive gates had closed behind them, Malik turned to the man standing at his side.

"Azeem... my Right Hand."

With wide eyes, the flamboyant man rushed to the front of his Sultan and knelt, his fist pressed against his chest.

"Yes, my Sultan!"

Malik smiled warmly at him.

"I will trouble you longer."

Azeem took a deep breath, struggling to keep his emotions hidden.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes glistened, but he held himself together.

Finally, someone paused their tears upon reuniting with him.

How fitting that it happened to be his Right Hand.

"It is never trouble, my Sultan! Welcome home!"

"Hm. Now go escort them out."

"By your Will!"

After a quick bow that was almost too fast to follow, Azeem turned and jumped out of the same window that Sinbad had used.

He looked beyond ecstatic, like a man flying for the first time.

Malik turned to the crimson owl still perched on the arm of the throne.

"Little brother."

His owl brother did not kneel as Azeem had done—he was far too dignified and dear for that—but instead hopped onto Malik’s outstretched arm, his talons gentle.

"Yes, Elder Brother?"

"Tell my wife."

Malik looked out the window where the two Suns hung low in the sky.

"It is time to announce my return."