Chapter 181: On My Own

All of it, from the moment the darkness swallowed Malik to Sinbad’s collapse, had taken less than forty seconds.

Forty seconds, and already one of his commanders lay unconscious on the battlefield, another kneeling beside him instead of finishing the fight he’d been winning only moments before.

Malik felt the shift the instant it happened.

There was a subtle disturbance in the flow of Rukh across the battlefield.

He knew that disturbance full well… dreaded it. The signature of a soldier’s strength suddenly, completely extinguished. He’d felt that same sensation too many times across too many wars to mistake it for anything else.

Sinbad.

Malik didn’t have time to process grief or worry, not in the middle of combat, with a Ghoul still thrashing beside him and a Follower’s shield flickering unpredictably with every surge of renewed concentration.

But a cold settled into his gut regardless, an added weight on his shoulders that he filed away for later, promising himself that he’d deal with it properly once this fight was actually over.

He shoved the feeling down and refocused entirely on the chaos unfolding in front of him.

Azeem and Duban had managed to finish off the second Follower moments earlier, their combined assault finally breaking through the figure’s defenses in a coordinated strike that left the hooded body motionless on the churned earth.

Azeem’s rings still glowed faintly from the exertion, elemental force spent in a decisive combination that Duban had capitalized on.

That left one Follower still active.

The same one Zafar and Sinbad had been pursuing, now too occupied maintaining their own concentration to properly reinforce the shield on their own.

With three of their fellow casters dead and only their own fading strength left to draw from, the burden of protecting the Ghoul had fallen entirely onto a single, exhausted set of shoulders.

The barrier around the Ghoul kept flickering.

It was weakened.

Malik felt it the moment it happened, Spine Splitter suddenly meeting less resistance as he swung toward the creature’s arm, the blade actually biting into flesh for the first time since this fight began.

The sensation was almost disorienting after so many failed strikes, the sword finally doing what it was supposed to do, cutting clean instead of bouncing harmlessly away.

Black blood sprayed from the wound, both hot and foul-smelling, splattering across Malik’s robes and the ground beneath his feet.

‘There.’

He didn’t hesitate.

Malik pressed the advantage immediately, Devil’s Footsteps igniting beneath his boots as he circled the Ghoul at incredible speed, golden fire trailing behind him in overlapping arcs.

He struck again and again, carving deep gashes across every surface he could reach while the shield remained compromised, Spine Splitter singing through the air with each pass, finding purchase where moments earlier there had been nothing but useless resistance.

“GGGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

The creature roared in genuine pain this time, all twelve mouths screaming in discordant unison.

It was a sound so loud and layered it felt like a physical force pressing against Malik’s eardrums.

The Ghoul thrashed wildly, its massive limbs swinging in uncoordinated arcs, trying desperately to dislodge the attacker now actually capable of hurting it.

Malik didn’t let up.

He went harder than he’d gone in this entire fight, pouring every scrap of remaining strength into each strike, Goliath’s Fall swelling his frame, muscles bulging beneath his robes as his body expanded to match the sheer scale of his enemy.

Ember’s Touch scorched every wound he opened, golden flame eating into exposed flesh, widening gashes that had already begun bleeding freely.

Any ordinary sword would have shattered under the strain he was putting into each swing, the sheer force behind every strike enough to crack the strongest steel and splinter bone.

Spine Splitter held, same as always, same as it had held through every impossible battle Malik had dragged it through even before lodging it in the root of a Zaqqum.

But even as damage accumulated across the Ghoul’s body…

Something shifted in the distance.

The last remaining Follower, pushed to their absolute limit by Kabir, Duban, and Azeem, face pale and drenched in sweat, hands shaking visibly even as they maintained their desperate pattern, finally managed to complete whatever ritual they’d been building towards.

Malik saw it happen from the corner of his eye.

A concentrated pulse of Rukh gathered around the figure’s outstretched fingers.

The shield snapped back into place.

Instantly, every wound Malik had carved into the creature’s flesh simply stopped mattering, the protection reasserting itself across the Ghoul’s entire body at once.

The black blood still pooled on the ground, the gashes still visibly present, but Malik’s next strike told him everything he needed to know about whether they actually mattered anymore.

Thump!

Malik’s next strike bounced off clean, same as his very first attempt.

He stared at the creature, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his jaw and stinging in his eyes.

Devil’s Footsteps had burned through a significant portion of whatever remained of his Rukh reserves in those few desperate seconds, Goliath’s Fall still straining his frame, every muscle in his body screaming from the intensity of the assault he’d just thrown.

The invisibility, the resistance to harm, all of it had returned in full, the window he’d fought so hard to exploit slamming shut before he could finish what he’d started.

He’d had his window.

Had done real damage in those brief seconds the shield had faltered, proven definitively that the creature wasn’t truly invincible, only protected.

It hadn’t been enough.

Malik glanced towards Zafar, still kneeling beside Sinbad’s motionless form, and felt that cold weight in his gut harden into something closer to grim resolve.

‘I can’t rely on them finishing this.’

Despite their exhaustion and all he commanded them to do…

They had successfully done their job, the last Follower no different than dead.

Whatever came next, he was going to have to find the answer on his own.

There was no other way.

‘As always…’

Malik took a stance.

‘On my own.’