Chapter 179: Battle Of Angels

Malik found himself staring at a Ghoul the size of a small mountain.

Its skin was gray, stretched tight over bones that jutted out at wrong angles, flesh hanging loose in places like fabric that had never quite fit the body it was draped over.

A dozen mouths lined its torso, each one lined with uneven teeth, all of them opening and closing in a slow, asynchronous rhythm that made Malik’s skin crawl just watching it.

No eyes that he could find anywhere on its massive frame, just those mouths, endlessly chewing at nothing, tasting the air like it was hunting by scent alone.

The smell hit him a half-second later.

Rot, thick and cloying, worse than anything he’d encountered even in the Sixth Layer’s meat-sea.

This thing... Angel had been dead a long time before whatever force had reanimated it, and the decay hadn’t stopped just because something had decided to keep it moving.

He didn’t wait around to admire the view.

Spine Splitter moved before his conscious mind had even finished processing the threat, a clean diagonal slash aimed straight at the creature’s exposed throat, a blow that should have severed heads from shoulders without the slightest resistance.

He’d cut through a root connecting an entire Zaqqum sapling to the world beneath Hell itself.

A single Ghoul, however massive, should have been nothing in comparison.

The blade bounced off.

Malik blinked.

’...what?’

Spine Splitter was supposed to cut through everything.

Concepts. Reality itself, if he had enough Will behind the swing.

He’d watched it tear through the root of the sapling Zaqqum, felt it strain against the very fabric of existence and win. He’d seen this sword chew through a Venerable’s limbs, through the Abyssal King’s flesh, through things that should have been far beyond its reach.

It had never simply bounced off something before.

He adjusted his grip and struck again, aiming lower this time, targeting what looked like a weak point along the creature’s ribcage, a gap between two jutting bones where the flesh had split open on its own, exposing something dark and wet beneath.

Same result.

The blade skidded uselessly across gray flesh, not even leaving a mark, and the Ghoul didn’t so much as flinch at the attempt.

No reaction at all, like the strike had happened to someone else entirely.

It was as if Spine Splitter had simply ceased to exist the moment it made contact.

Malik backed off a step, reassessing.

His sword could theoretically cut through anything, given enough conviction behind the swing.

The fact that it had failed meant something else entirely was going on here, some mechanism actively preventing damage rather than the creature simply having tough skin or thick bone.

’It is being protected.’

He narrowed his eyes, searching the surrounding battlefield for anything that might explain it.

And sure enough...

’There you are.’

Four smaller figures stood scattered around the Ghoul’s massive form, robed and hooded, forming a wide circle, their hands raised in unison, each one tracing patterns in the air.

Rukh moved between them in visible threads, golden-white lines weaving together into something that wrapped around the Ghoul like a protective shroud, nearly invisible unless you knew exactly what you were looking for.

Followers.

Of course there were followers.

Nothing in this war had ever been simple enough to involve just a single enemy standing alone.

Every faction worth terminating had layers, backup plans woven into backup plans, and whoever sent this Ghoul Angel clearly understood that sheer brute strength wouldn’t be enough against a Sultan who’d already proven capable of erasing Angels wholesale.

"Split up!"

Malik’s command carried across the battlefield despite the chaos still raging around him.

"Kill the ones casting the shield; I’ll handle the Angel!"

His commanders, already scattered across their own individual fights, caught the order through sheer battlefield instinct rather than direct communication.

Years of fighting side by side had built something close to a shared language; every soldier under his command could read the shift in his tone and know exactly what it meant.

Sinbad peeled off from his current opponent first, crimson wings cutting hard toward the nearest hooded figure, talons already extending, pink eyes narrowed with focus despite the obvious exhaustion dragging at every beat of his wings.

Zafar followed a half-second later, elements already crackling along his arms as he abandoned his own skirmish and closed the distance toward a second Follower positioned near the Ghoul’s left flank, his white hair whipping wild in the wind kicked up by the ongoing battle.

That left two.

Azeem and Duban exchanged a quick glance before breaking towards the remaining pair.

The Right Hand’s rings glowed with gathered elemental force, while Duban’s blade was angled low.

That left Kabir to hold the main line against the Ghoul’s attention alongside Malik.

"GGGGGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The Ghoul roared.

From all mouths at once, vibrating through Malik’s chest and rattled loose stones across the battlefield.

The sound alone felt like a weapon, pressure building behind Malik’s eyes.

He didn’t flinch.

’If I can’t cut him, I need to buy time until the shield drops.’

Malik dodged sideways as one massive arm swept towards him, the limb moving with surprising speed for something so large, close enough that he felt the wind of its passing ruffle his robes and tug at his hair.

He countered with a burst of fire from Ember’s Touch, not expecting it to actually damage the creature, but hoping it might at least distract it, buy a half-second of confusion he could exploit.

The flame splashed harmlessly across gray skin, same as his sword had.

Of course.

If physical attacks bounced off, spells probably did too.

The shield wasn’t selective.

It simply refused all forms of harm equally, an indiscriminate wall between the Ghoul and anything that might hurt it, however that damage was delivered.

Kabir roared beside him, swinging his massive blade in a wide arc that connected solidly with the Ghoul’s leg, muscles straining with the full force of the blow behind it.

Nothing happened.

The weapon bounced clean off, same as everything else, the impact sending a jarring shock back up Kabir’s arms hard enough to make him stumble.

"This thing’s too tough!"

Kabir shouted, sweat already running freely down his face despite the cold wind sweeping across the battlefield.

"No, it’s merely..."

Malik ducked under another swipe, his boots skidding across loose earth as he regained his footing.

"A puzzle."

He glanced towards Sinbad, now locked in combat with the first Follower, wind and talons tearing at the hooded figure’s defenses, feathers scattering with every exchanged blow.

The Follower held firm for now, their Rukh-weaving hands never pausing despite the assault, blood already staining the edges of their torn robes.

This was going to take time.

Time they might not have, given how long this entire war had already stretched on, given how exhausted every single one of his commanders clearly was after days without proper rest.

He could see it in the way Sinbad’s wingbeats had started growing uneven, in the slight tremor running through Kabir’s shoulders with every swing of his blade.

Malik gritted his teeth and threw himself back into the fight, dodging, weaving, buying seconds any way he could manage, waiting for the moment the shield finally cracked.

His movements, alongside the Ghoul’s, had increased in speed, enough so that Kabir could no longer directly interfere, as it had become a battle of Angels.