The Vizier's suspicion didn't waver; if anything, it hardened like setting concrete. He merely raised a single, skeptical eyebrow. The Princess, however, beamed with a radiant smile, while Kaser offered a tentative, hopeful grin.
"I told you," the Princess said, waving a hand dismissively in the air. "He is simply disoriented. He needs rest. He has returned from death, or a coma, or whatever state held him. Stop pressuring him, Vizier, or you will see a side of me you will not like."
Yamen looked at her from the corner of his eye, his jaw tight. He swallowed his anger and sighed.
"Very well. But I will watch him until I am certain of his truth."
Malik rose from the chair. The food had done its work; energy hummed through his limbs, chasing away the numbness of the grave. He looked at each of them in turn, then fixed his gaze on the Princess.
"Tell me," he said, his voice steady. "How much time has passed while I slept? Update me on the world."
The Princess cleared her throat, her expression faltering slightly.
"It pains me to tell you this... but a hundred years have passed."
Malik's eyes widened. He couldn't stop the exclamation that burst from his lips.
"A hundred years! A hundred... but... how?"
A hundred years asleep, Malik thought, his mind racing. That is terrifying. Yet, I am not an old man. The laws of this world are fundamentally different from my own. But... this means the Supreme Lord is undoubtedly dead. Or so I hope. A century is a long time for anyone.
Relief washed over him. I can breathe now. Controlling this world will be simple without that monster in the way. It will take years, and exhausting effort, but it is possible. Step by step.
A malicious laugh bubbled in his throat, threatening to spill out and warp his features, but he crushed it down just in time.
"It felt like a thousand years to us," Kaser said with deep reverence. "Calamity followed calamity until our spirits wore thin and we lost our best men. But we clung to hope, passing it from generation to generation. I cannot believe I am of the lucky generation destined to see your return and fight by your side, Blessed Lord."
The Vizier rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
The Princess continued, her voice overflowing with enthusiasm. "All our worries have vanished as if they never existed. Your return has resurrected our souls."
You poor, naive fools, Malik laughed internally. I will use you well. Loyalty to religious figures in this world is unparalleled. In my old life, a brother or son might stab you in the back for a coin. But to be the 'Awaited Savior'? That places you on a celestial pedestal, untouchable. Anyone who dares harm such a figure earns the eternal hatred of the masses. This suits me perfectly. Everything is falling into place. Except for that Vizier... he is dangerous.
"A hundred years or a thousand, it does not matter," Malik said aloud, waving his hand. "I returned to you by my own will. I fought a bitter struggle to come back so we might fix the mistakes of the past. Now, tell me of the condition of the world."
The Princess's face fell, crumbling into profound sadness. Kaser looked at the floor, unsure which tragedy to recount first. The Vizier simply crossed his arms and let out a sharp exhale that only Malik noticed.
Kaser finally looked up, his eyes heavy with grief.
"We do not know much, save for what we hear from the merchants who trade with us in secret for coin. The world you knew has changed. Ruin has spread to every corner. After the Kings and Emperors united to defeat us, they quickly turned on one another, as is their nature. Everyone competes for expansion and influence. They burdened the people with taxes, levies, and tithes. They increased the torture of slaves to make them an example for anyone thinking of rebellion. They hunted down anyone who believed in you or preached of the Age of Dreams and Freedom. There were horrific purges, public executions of thousands."
Kaser licked his dry lips and continued. "Seventy years after your... death... the Crimson Plague broke out. It has claimed five million lives so far and is still spreading. We are lucky to be isolated here. But now, the situation is at its peak. The wars have reached a zenith of madness."
"Civil wars, regional conflicts, wars between neighbors and distant kingdoms," Kaser listed. "Capitals have fallen. Entire cities have burned. Evil has become the strongest currency of this world. Perhaps your century of slumber has made you forget the currents of Power in this realm. The balance is absolute: when the percentage of Evil in the world exceeds the percentage of Good, those who follow Demonic or Tyrannical Paths become stronger, their energy vast. When Good prevails, the Monastics, the Ascetics, and the Pious gain power."
The Princess interrupted Kaser, her voice grim.
"And because the ratio of Evil has reached 98%, it is now customary for anyone seeking power, glory, or wealth to follow the Demonic and Tyrannical Paths. Advancement in them is easier; refining their power is faster. That is why our world is now ruled by monsters, with rare exceptions. If we want to win, we would have to become monsters ourselves, which we refuse to do. That is why we isolated ourselves, waiting for a glimmer of hope."
Malik lowered his head, pretending to mourn, while his mind whirred with delight.
So, being a savior of the people will only make me weaker, he realized. I must choose the Tyrant's Path. That suits me far better. The situation is better than I expected. Is this why the Supreme Lord killed me? Because he saw that I was capable of reaching his level of darkness, perhaps even surpassing it? He feared me not as Nebras the Hero, but as Malik the Tyrant.
He broke the silence with a crucial question.
"What was the ratio of Good and Evil in the battle a hundred years ago?"
The Vizier answered, his voice booming and accusatory.
"It was 51% for Evil and 49% for Good. If you were the real Nebras, you would know this. You were the one who reduced the Evil to that degree."