—

╔════════╗

║OVERFLOW!║

╚════════╝

[Your Fear Spreads...]

[Fear Points: 169 → 578]

[You Have Stepped Closer To Your Truth.]

—

Malik sat on his throne, resting his head on his right fist.

His golden eyes were stuck staring at the system before him. More accurately, on the numbers... the Fear Points he received.

’What a boost.’

Four hundred and nine Fear Points from a single speech.

The previous battle had given him two hundred, while the walk through the Western streets had given him twenty-nine. And now this.

He wasn’t going to deny that all of his previous actions had compounded and helped in this result.

The battle, the executions, and the rumors spreading through every corner of Devil’s Maw.

But his speech had certainly boosted it.

His words had reached the planet.

Ding!

Yet, of course, that didn’t seem to be all.

—

╔═══════════════╗

║YOUR FEAR SPREADS...║

╚═══════════════╝

[Order (Class One) — 15 → 16 % Increasing!]

[Southern Cross (Class Three) — 20 → 22 % Increasing!]

[Owls Faction (Class Five) — 36 → 38 % Increasing!]

[Walkers Faction (Class Six) — 42 → 45 % Increasing!]

[Maharajah Faction (Class Seven) — 47 → 49 % Increasing!]

[White Bear Faction (Class Eight) — 95 → 100 % Terminated!]

—

Indeed, his fear had spread across every faction.

The Order had crept up another point.

The Southern Cross, a faction he had barely noticed, was climbing steadily, while the Owls, the Walkers, and the Maharajah were all edging closer to the breaking point.

But Malik’s focus was on one faction alone.

White Bear.

They had finally reached one hundred percent.

He had officially driven off the first-named faction out of Devil’s Maw!

Ding!

Sure enough, the system was keen to celebrate that.

—

╔═══════════════╗

║FACTION TERMINATED║

╚═══════════════╝

[White Bear Faction (Class Eight) — Terminated]

[Reward: 100 Fear Points!]

[Fear Points: 578 → 678]

—

’...Hm.’

Malik was stunned.

The reward depended on the strength of the faction he had driven off, a fact that he instinctively knew.

A Class Eight faction wasn’t exactly dangerous. Mid-tier, annoying enough to terrorize cities, weak enough to be crushed in a few hours.

So one hundred Fear Points for them?

It seemed way more than appropriate!

’That’s good, very good.’

Were things finally turning around?

Had he finally reached the point where he didn’t need to be so cautious all the time?

Could he finally breathe a little?

Malik already knew the answer to those questions.

The Order was still out there, watching and waiting.

The Demons were still pouring out of the East.

The invaders were still landing on his land.

One faction fleeing meant nothing in the grand scheme of the war.

But it was something.

A small victory that led to a minuscule crack in this gargantuan wall before him.

What he didn’t know, however, and was now actively thinking about...

Where did Fear Points even come from?

Not from whom; he already knew that.

No, this number floating in his vision.

Six hundred and seventy-eight.

A number able to push him closer to whatever waited at the end of this path.

What was it, really? Behind the system’s... simplification and the notifications, what was happening?

How was he unlocking his strength from fear?

How was he getting fear from places that he wasn’t consciously aware of?

The speech had been deliberate; he had known it would spread fear, and naturally, his system did too.

But some small rumor in a faraway village?

Little things that added up over time?

How were they counted?

Of course, he understood that it was his Blessing and his Divine Kingdom.

The system was an extension of himself, a tool that he had crafted and grown into.

But the mechanics of it... how did they work exactly? Or was it simply beyond the current him to understand?

’Hm... it must be like I’ve made a conversion chamber of sorts. It detects fear directed at me, absorbs it, and changes its makeup, using it as fuel for the system. In turn, that allows me to do as I like within this system, as long as I have the required fuel.’

It was very clever.

The more he used it, the more he thought so.

And no, it wasn’t because he liked to compliment himself—though that certainly helped.

Anyhow, Malik had gained the required Fear Points to rank up.

He had needed six hundred and sixty, and he currently had more than enough.

So, without thinking too much about it, he...

—

╔════════╗ 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

║Fear System║

╚════════╝

{Class: 10 (Sword of Guidance)}

{Unlocking Class (9): 660 / 660}

—

Inputted his Fear Points!

***

Azeem walked through the corridors of the Holy Palace with servants bowing and guards saluting as he passed.

The Suns had risen fully now, flooding the hallways with golden light, making it a beautiful sight.

Azeem didn’t stop to admire it; however, he had urgent news to report!

Reaching the gates of the Sultan’s Hall, he paused.

Two figures stood outside, both wearing all black.

Their uniforms were identical to Malik’s shadows, the Guard of the Fifth. A people that bore no insignia or indication of rank.

They were a most hidden blade.

"Hey, Tarek."

Azeem nodded at the shadow on the left.

"Is the Sultan in the hall still? There’s something urgent I need to report."

Tarek turned his head, his face hidden behind a black mask.

"Yes, he is. But it seems that he’s—"

Bang!

A wave of fiery Will exploded out of the hall.

Azeem didn’t have time to activate his rings!

The pressure was a mountain that collapsed on his chest. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard.

Beside him, Tarek and the other shadow fell too.

They lay there, pressed flat, unable to move or even breathe.

The pressure continued to push down on them, heavy and relentless.

He tried to push himself up with trembling muscles.

Eventually, and only barely, he managed to lift his head a few inches off the ground—just enough to see the gates and feel the heat radiating from the hall beyond.

Azeem was close to Class Five, Balancer of Scales, one of the strongest Magi in Devil’s Maw!

And he had fallen to a mere wave of Will.

None of them thought that the Sultan was in danger. No, not now.

Azeem had felt the Sultan’s Will many times before: in battle and in training, but this was different.

The Sultan was doing something impossible.

Something that required every ounce of his power.

’...just w-what impossibility is he planning?’