Chapter 134
Zhulumat gave an opportunity, gave space, gave permission for Apathy to voice whatever had brought him here this time, to deliver whatever news had made his expression so serious, to reveal whatever intent had driven him back to the meeting location for the third time in the same night.
Buuuk!
Buuuk!!
Without lingering, without wasting even a second on unnecessary matters, Apathy's hand moved with a speed that showed all of this had been prepared before he even set foot into the room.
His strong hand, his slender yet firm fingers, reached into the folds of his robe at the chest, slipping between fabrics that were never washed too clean, searching for something he had guarded with his entire body and soul throughout the journey here.
And when that hand finally emerged again, when those fingers appeared in the open space visible to everyone, in his grasp was a letter—a neatly folded sheet of paper, a fragment of information that might change everything they had known about the situation they were facing.
Without hesitation, without the slightest doubt in his eyes, Apathy handed the letter directly to Shaqar, to his superior seated not far from where he stood, to the captain who had been his shelter and protection for years amidst the harshness of the battlefield.
Shaqar received the letter with a slightly trembling hand, a tremor whose source was unclear—whether from his advancing age or from the sudden sense of foreboding that gripped his heart.
He stared at the letter for a moment, at the folds of paper that hinted at a long journey, at the intact seal that signaled no one had opened it before it reached his hands.
Yet he did not open it immediately, did not read it, did not delve into whatever was written inside.
He simply held it tightly, feeling the texture of the paper at his fingertips, sensing a weight that perhaps existed only in his own mind, while his eyes remained fixed on Apathy, who had not yet finished his duty that night.
After the letter changed hands, after the small yet meaningful object was now in Shaqar's grasp, Apathy once again did something that had become a part of him, something ingrained through years of being a soldier.
He assumed a salute once more, this time firmer, more perfect, more filled with the awareness that this might be his final gesture of respect tonight before returning to his duties outside.
His right hand rose, placed upon his chest with an open palm facing inward—toward the heart, toward the center of life he had long risked for a belief he did not always fully understand.
And that salute was not directed to Shaqar, not to the other High Officers, not to the captains seated within the circle, but directly to Zhulumat Katamtum—the supreme leader who had been sitting motionless at the center, his gaze never losing its sharpness.
The salute was given with full conviction, with the awareness that he was the one most deserving of it, with the hope that what he had just done today would be recorded as something meaningful in the long journey of the satanist faction against the darkness that threatened from all directions.
When his right hand slowly lowered from his chest, when the salute ended and nothing more needed to be added, Apathy moved.
Not a backward step as soldiers usually did after reporting, not a cautious retreat filled with deference, but a turn—a motion of rotating his body, of turning away, as if he no longer needed to look back to know what would happen next.
He turned firmly, steadily, with the certainty that his duty tonight was complete and that it was time to return to where he belonged.
The sound of his footsteps began to echo, a faint rustle against the dusty floor, a sound that gradually faded, softer and softer as he moved away from the center of the circle.
He walked forward, leaving the meeting area behind, leaving Zhulumat and the High Satanist Officers under the Banner of Zhulumat, leaving each captain of Team Xirkushkartum still seated in their respective places.
"Do not keep its contents to yourself."
Silence once again ruled the room after Apathy's footsteps had completely vanished, after the faint rustling had been swallowed by the darkness outside, after an unseen door seemed to close behind the departing soldier.
A different silence than before—not one filled with tension awaiting something to come, but one filled with anticipation toward something already present in the room, something now in Shaqar's grasp, something that might change everything they had discussed throughout the night.
All eyes were fixed upon the letter, upon the still-intact folds, upon the unbroken seal, upon the small yet meaningful object that had suddenly become the center of attention in the stifling room.
The High Satanist Officers under the Banner of Zhulumat could not hide their curiosity, their gazes locked onto the letter as if they could read its contents simply by staring long enough.
The other captains of Team Xirkushkartum, including Onigakure and Makakushi who had nearly engaged in a heated argument earlier, now sat with their bodies slightly leaning forward, breaths held, with an unspoken hope that the letter would bring clarity amidst the chaos of information they had faced.
And in that thickening silence, as everyone remained absorbed in their own thoughts, Zhulumat's voice finally broke the stillness.
It was no louder than a whisper, yet it carried a penetrating force that made everyone in the room feel as though the words were spoken right beside their ears.
Zhulumat spoke to Shaqar, questioning the contents of the letter he had just received from Apathy, what was written within the folds still tightly held in the old captain's hand.
But the question was not an ordinary one, not merely a sudden curiosity.
Behind those words lay a deeper meaning—one understood by everyone present in the room.
Zhulumat was not only asking; he was also granting permission, giving space, giving Shaqar the opportunity to open the letter and read its contents aloud before everyone.
Before Zhulumat himself, before the High Satanist Officers under the Banner of Zhulumat who were part of this mission, before each captain of Team Xirkushkartum who had been silently following the meeting from the beginning until this very moment.
A permission that did not need to be explicitly spoken, because everyone in the room had been together far too long not to understand the meaning behind every word spoken by their supreme leader.
'If not for my oath, if not for this responsibility, I would have thrown this letter right in front of his face!'
To be continued…