No hesitation, no second-guessing—just raw instinct.
“What the fuck?!”
Rafiq twisted away on reflex, his hand shooting for the blade.
But Malik was already on him, crashing into him with all the force of someone who didn’t care if he lived or died.
The two of them hit the dirt, hard, rolling and grappling in a messy tangle of limbs.
Malik’s knees dug into Rafiq’s ribs, his hands clawing at whatever he could grab: his arm, his shirt, his hair—anything.
It wasn’t pretty, but it didn’t need to be.
Rafiq fought back just as dirty, throwing an elbow that caught Malik’s jaw, sending his head snapping to the side.
“Ugh…”
Malik grunted, his vision swimming for a second, but he wasn’t letting go.
Adrenaline drowned out the pain, his focus locked on one thing—killing this bastard.
His legs hooked around Rafiq’s, trying to pin him down, while his hands scrambled to grab the hilt of the blade that was just barely out of reach.
“Fuck. Off!”
Rafiq shoved at Malik’s chest with one hand but Malik held on, pulling him down with him.
Dirt flew everywhere as they rolled again, Malik somehow ending up on top.
He pressed his full weight down on Rafiq, pinning him hard.
“Stay. The fuck. Down!”
But Rafiq wasn’t having it—he bucked hard, nearly tossing him off like some pissed-off draft monster.
Yet again, Malik held on, though barely, and Rafiq tried once more.
“Get the fuck off me!”
His free hand latched onto Malik’s robes and yanked him to the right, trying to use his own momentum to flip him over.
It was a valid attempt, but Malik wasn’t about to let that happen.
His legs locked down on the ground like iron clamps keeping himself steady.
He then quickly shoved his forearm into Rafiq’s throat, leaning all his weight into it.
Rafiq choked, his face turning red, but the bastard wasn’t close to being done yet.
His knee came up hard, smashing into Malik’s side, earning a loud, wheezing grunt:
“FUCK!”
But instead of pulling back, Malik doubled down, using the pain as fuel.
He elbowed Rafiq’s head with his left while his right tried to pry the blade free.
Rafiq gritted his teeth and his other hand came up, aiming for Malik’s face.
Malik jerked his head to the side just in time to dodge a thumb aimed straight for his eye.
Close call—too close—but again, instead of backing off, it only made him go even harder.
Pulling his right knee back like a loaded spring, he paused just long enough to aim, then slammed it forward, right into Rafiq’s ribs
“Hhhhsss…”
The bastard hissed through gritted teeth, the pain slowing him down.
It was just enough for Malik to press the advantage.
Noticing that, Rafiq tried to stop him, but all he could do was threaten:
“Stop this you little shit! You’ll regret this!”
Malik wasn’t listening to any of his barking.
His whole world had narrowed down to that Shamshir, and he almost dove towards it, his legs kicking out to keep Rafiq off balance.
But just before he could pick it up—
“Fuck off you damn rat!”
Rafiq shoved his back, sending him sprawling to the side in a coughing fit.
It was incredibly painful, but still, Malik wasn’t done, not even close.
“Die!”
Like a mad dog, he growled and launched himself right back at Rafiq, allowing him not a second alone.
And this time, he aimed real dirty.
His elbow smashed into Rafiq’s chest—right where the Roc had ripped into him earlier.
“YOU BASTAAAARD!”
Rafiq’s scream tore through the air as his body folded in on itself from the pain.
It was all the opening Malik needed.
With all the swiftness of a drunkard, he snatched the Shamshir from its sheath, the weight of the blade finally in his hands.
But just as he threw himself backward, trying to put space between them, Rafiq grabbed onto his arm and yanked him forward.
Crack!
Their skulls smashed together blood spraying between them as Malik’s head snapped back.
His vision went white, stars bursting and spinning in every direction.
The next thing he knew, the ground slammed into him, and the blade slipped from his grasp, just out of reach.
Through the haze, Malik caught a glimpse of Rafiq scrambling over him, picking up the weapon.
“Gotcha, you little—”
Whatever Rafiq was about to say turned into a strangled grunt as Malik’s legs shot out like pistons, both heels slamming into his lower back.
“AHHHH!”
He crumpled face-first into the dirt with a heavy thud, the blade skittering from his grasp.
And then… stillness.
For a time, neither moved.
Both just lay there, chests heaving, battered and bruised, minds dazed.
But ‘rest’ wasn’t in the cards.
Neither was ready to quit.
A few seconds passed, and the fight resumed.
“RAAAH!”
“DIEEEE!”
It turned downright feral, somehow even more desperate than before.
They twisted, rolled, clawed, and grappled for the blade.
Malik’s thin hands darted in like vipers, but Rafiq’s grip was iron-clad, unyielding.
It should’ve been a recipe for failure.
Malik didn’t even come close to matching Rafiq’s strength, and his only advantage was negligible.
But he wasn’t banking on that.
He knew exactly where to hit.
All that mattered was the gaping wound in Rafiq’s chest.
Malik hadn’t forgotten it—not for a second.
He only needed the opportunity.
“STAY DOWN!”
His fist shot out like a hammer, crashing into Rafiq’s wound with everything he had.
“GAH!”
Rafiq gasped, his defense faltering for just a second—but again, that second was more than enough.
Though that second wasn’t for the blade, no, it was to ensure victory.
Another punch followed.
Then another.
And another.
Each one slammed directly into the gash.
“AHH—! FUCK YOU! DIE! Y—”
Malik didn’t let him finish his strangled cries, shoving his knee straight into Rafiq’s groin.
“HAAAH!”
Rafiq crumpled in on himself, gasping for air, completely wide open.
Deeming it the perfect moment, Malik snatched up the Shamshir without a second thought, gripping it with both hands.
This time? No way in Hell he was letting go.
His entire body shook with rage, adrenaline, and pure exhaustion as he reversed his grip and raised it, pointing it down like it was a thunderbolt.
“DIE!”
He brought it down with every ounce of strength he had left.
Squelch!
The blade dug into Rafiq’s thigh, and that sound—wet, disgusting—just made him go even harder.
“AAAAAHHHHH—! STOP! STOP, YOU SHIT! PLEASE!”
Rafiq’s tried to claw himself away, his hands scrambling in the dirt like a panicked animal.
Blood poured from his wound, staining the ground beneath them.
It was a sorry sight, one that could affect the hearts of many, but Malik wasn’t stopping.
“I SWEAR! YOU WON’T SEE ME AGAIN! I’LL DISAPPEAR!”
He didn’t blink at his begging.
“I SWEAR I WILL!”
Malik wordlessly dragged himself after Rafiq, each movement fueled by pure spite.
Then, with a loud snarl, he ripped the blade free and slammed it into Rafiq’s back, the impact knocking him flat onto his stomach.
“PLEASE! PLEASE… STOP! SPARE ME!”
Rafiq’s cries turned pitiful, his body convulsing as he struggled to push himself off the ground.
His hands continuously shook, slipping in the blood-soaked dirt.
“I… I… beg you…”
Malik’s face was blank—expressionless except for the fire blazing in his eyes.
Begging wasn’t going to work on him.
He yanked the blade free again, blood splattering across his arm, and raised it high.
His muscles burned, his whole damn body shaking, but he didn’t care.
This was it. This was the moment.
Rafiq was about to learn what real pain felt like.
But before Malik could swing down, before the blade could end it all—
‘…No.’
Everything went black.
No warning. No sound. Just… nothing.
One second, he was about to end it, and the next—darkness.