Misunderstood Villain Heroines Mourn My Death Chapter 75

[ … words ]

“Yo, Azeem, mind spilling the tea?”

Layla’s voice cut through the silence shared by their little masochist group.

“You’ve been around him the longest. Seen all sorts of wild stuff, right? This gotta ring a bell. Or should I ask Roya? Nah, scratch that—she’d probably charge me for the answer.”

Roya snorted softly at that, clearly unbothered, but Azeem?

He just stood there, staring at her, head in the clouds.

Then finally, with a sigh, he nodded, his face grim.

“I’d answer, but you gotta tell me this, what do you call the Fallen?”

“You mean us from the Dark Continent? Well, I’ve never been there long so I’m not sure, but I heard that it depends on the village. Yama’s Embraced, Drowning Lotuses… There are many others—didn’t bother remembering them though.”

“I see…”

He nodded once more.

“As you’ve seen in the note, its official term is Falling Into Depravity…”

His voice was lower than usual, like he subconsciously didn’t want the others to hear.

“Corruption.”

The moment that word dropped, it was like someone had detonated a bomb in the hall.

Azeem didn’t care, though, continuing to speak:

“But this shit?”

He gestured toward the projection with a quick jerk of his head.

“This exact case? Nope. Never seen it. Not in any records, not in any stories, not even documented rumors. Whatever this is, it’s been buried deep—a cover-up. And if I had to choose who…”

He let the sentence hang, but everyone caught the implication.

The Former Sultan.

Such a revelation would’ve sent the common Magi a doozy before today.

But after that little glimpse of the real Cyrus in the projection?

Shady everything was to be expected.

So no, their focus was on a more curious word.

Corruption.

That word was more than just a word.

It was a scarlet letter.

A loaded flintlock pistol.

A Goddamn death sentence for anyone unlucky enough to be connected to it.

And the crowd wasn’t exactly taking it well.

Some folks glanced around like the accusation alone might somehow infect them.

Others froze, their faces blank but their thoughts running a mile a minute.

Why?

Because Corruption wasn’t just some magical boogeyman.

It was history—bloody, horrific history.

Mass destruction. Massacres. Genocides.

Whole villages, cities even, were wiped off the map.

Wells were poisoned.

Farms were burned to ash.

Lands cursed so badly that no one dared step foot in them for generations.

Corruption wasn’t just scary—it was catastrophic.

And it wasn’t just the Corrupted that terrified people.

Oh no, the consequences were often way worse.

Wars had been started over it.

The balance of power was already as shaky as a drunk tightrope walker.

Sometimes, all it took was a single whisper—so-and-so’s camp is harboring a Corrupted Magi—and boom, armies were marching, innocent people were dying, and no one even stopped to check if it was true.

That’s how loaded the word was.

And now?

The crowd was terrified.

Most of them had never even seen Corruption up close.

Not a glimpse, not a hint.

The stories they knew were either centuries-old legends or stuff they overheard from Seekers passing through.

That told them two things, clear as day.

One: The Sultans of each era had been working overtime to keep Corruption on the down low, scrubbing it from history and locking it behind layers of secrecy.

And two?

Malik—their Sultan—had been especially good at it.

He buried the truth so deep it might as well have been in another dimension.

“Corruption? Don’t be ridiculous. Falling and being Corrupted are two separate things.”

Layla scoffed, undoubtedly feeling some fear herself.

“Corruption only happens to those at higher ranks. Jasmine was just a beginner Dune Guardian. It’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

Safira cut in.

“Is it really different? Don’t they both share the same symptoms?

Layla shook her head.

“No… Corruption makes Magis stronger. Even boosts their rank by one or two sub-ranks. Falling Into Depravity only ruins them, making them look like… that.”

Safira scoffed, a hint of sadness clear in her voice.

“It’s the same. You’re just repeating the propaganda each Sultan spews.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. The only difference is that Corrupted Magi had bodies that could handle the transition and Fallen didn’t.”

“But…”

“If you’re so sure you’re correct then explain what we just saw. Explain why she turned into that.”

Layla glanced at her husband and then looked back down.

“I don’t know… but it’s not Corruption. It can’t be. The conditions are so unfathomably far from being right. She needs to be a Malāk, studying the same Divine Laws as the True Sultan, or at least exposed to something tied to the Divine Laws—the same ones the ‘He’ governs. Only then would ‘His’ knowledge Corrupt her soul. It doesn’t just happen out of nowhere and certainly not from rotting corpses.”

“And yet, it clearly happened. To her. To others.”

Sighing at Safira’s quick rebuttal, Layla glanced at Azeem.

“Speak.”

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

“The reason? Can’t say. It’s a state secret. Only the Sultans know how Magi Fall Into Depravity.”

This revelation sparked a fresh wave of murmurs… though none reached the group.

“…But you should know some things at least, right?”

Azeem hesitated, then blinked, his red eyes calm once more.

“This isn’t random. Depravity targets Dune Guardians specifically. Always has.”

“I see that… but why?”

Layla demanded.

“The conditions aren’t met, so what makes them so special? Is it just their connection with ‘Him?’ It can’t be the simple, can it?”

“That…”

He raised his hands in surrender, his gold rings jingling.

“…Is the million-coin question.”

Safira piled in:

“Then what about Teacher? Why didn’t it affect him?”

That question made them pause.

All eyes turned to Azeem, who looked annoyed out of his mind.

“I don’t know…”

Clicking his tongue, he ruffled his hair, revealing all he knew and theorized:

“I don’t know why the Sultan wasn’t affected.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s because he’s a higher rank in the Divine Hierarchy.”

“Maybe his experience as a Dune Guardian gave him some kind of resistance.”

“Maybe it’s because of that black speck we saw after his first Return By Death.”

“Maybe it’s just a side-benefit of his curse…”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

Zafar, who had stayed quiet so far, keeping to himself, suddenly countered:

“Or maybe he just got lucky.”

“…”

Azeem ignored him.

“I don’t know why Magi Fall… but still, I do know that it’s incredibly rare. Whatever happened to Jasmine… high-chance it wasn’t random.”

Layla wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Then what? It was induced by the Corruption in the cave?”

“Fucking Hell! I said I don’t know!”

He snapped a little, his composure finally cracking.

“I wasn’t told anything about this! Whatever this is… it’s not in the archives. It’s not in the records. It’s… it’s a complete anomaly.”

He looked hurt by those words he uttered, as if betrayed, but no one commented on that.

“Damn it.”

Layla’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh wait… The barrier.”

“What?”

Safira asked, turning toward her.

“The note mentioned a barrier.”

Layla’s voice grew louder.

“It said it would unveil at 0800 hours. What if that kept the Corruption from spreading? It dissipated over time, sure, but some remained in the cave’s Aether. Jasmine had just unluckily taken that on when she went deep.”

Azeem, now calm again, turned to her.

“Plausible theory…”

Before he could continue, start another back and forth, Zafar spoke up, realizing something:

“Wait. Lady Safira… Do you remember this happening?”

All eyes turned to her, whose face turned pale, her green rubies wide and glassy.

“…No.”

When she finally spoke, her words were barely audible.

“I don’t… I don’t remember this… I don’t remember any of this.”

The hall fell silent again, the weight of her words sinking in.

If Safira didn’t remember this event?

Well, that meant one of the two things, and neither was good.

Either her memory had been altered, which was highly unlikely…

Or this simply wasn’t the end of their tragedy.

Malik had died once more.

He had not accepted the inevitable.

‘How…’

All couldn’t help but wonder…

‘How many times did he repeat her death?’

It truly seemed that there was no rest for the wicked.