The next day was blistering like any other, and something somewhere within Malik’s twisted brain had found that comforting.
His time had arrived.
Standing at the base of the scorched tree, he held up his shamshir, pointing it to the sky.
His blade was the only thing that stood between him and salvation or fiery death.
Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t dare move to wipe it.
Every ounce of his focus was on the Qird above him.
It was sprawled lazily across the branch, completely exposed, vulnerable.
Its flames were reduced to faint, flickering embers.
And its little fire spawns? Nowhere in sight.
Probably off learning how to burn something else alive.
Everything was lined up perfectly.
This was it—the moment he’d been waiting for.
Days spent tailing this flaming terror, learning every quirk and habit, were about to pay off.
Or they weren’t, and he’d get roasted alive, forced to repeat his hunt. No big deal.
‘Let’s just do this…’
Malik adjusted his stance, shifting his weight, every movement painstakingly slow.
The starlight caught the edge of his blade as he raised it further up.
It hovered just below the branch, aimed perfectly for its mark.
Now, he was no different than a coiled spring ready to explode into action.
Malik took a final breath, his world narrowing to a single point.
His muscles tensed, and then, with all the strength he could muster…
Whoosh!
He drove it upward in one clean, decisive thrust, piercing fur and fire.
It went deep, cutting through its muscle, but still, it seemed far from enough.
“KEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIK!”
Qird screeched, a high-pitched cry that echoed across the forest.
Malik winced from the sound but didn’t let up, yanking his blade out and stabbing again with all his strength.
This time though, the blade hit even deeper. Too deep.
It was lodged in its flaming body, stuck in bone or something equally unyielding.
Before he could adjust, the Qird twisted, its body writhing in pain.
Then, with a burst of flames, it kicked itself off the tree, dragging the blade with it.
“Fuck…”
Malik cursed under his breath, watching as it tumbled to the ground.
It hit the dirt hard but didn’t stop, frantically scrambling to its feet as it tried to run away.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Clapping his hands together, Malik shut his eyes tight and focused.
In his mind, he imagined a network of glowing lines, a web that mapped out the path his Aether needed to follow.
It was the only ability Rafiq’s dusty book had taught him.
His Aether Core—a tiny, pulsating point of light buried deep behind his sternum, right next to his heart—stirred to life.
He commanded it, willed it to follow the Pathing he’d laid out in his head.
The Aether rushed upward, moving like molten fire through the central artery.
It then split to both his shoulders, branching out to the subclavian arteries, before shooting down his arms, splitting into smaller vessels along his forearms.
Finally, it reached his hands, pooling at his fingertips, ready to ignite.
Malik clenched his fists, feeling the Aether coiling, and whispered the words that came from somewhere deeper than memory—straight from his soul:
“Ember’s Touch… Scorched Grace.”
Golden flames erupted around his hands, charring his forearms black.
Unlike before, the fire didn’t burn his entire body—it embraced only his arms, licking at the rest without leaving a single mark.
But damn, it was hot, rivaling that of the Qird.
Kiek!
Feeling his heat, it turned as it realized escape wasn’t on the table anymore.
Its glowing eyes locked onto him, and it charged, flames flaring brighter like never before.
“KIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!”
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Malik roared back, charging forward to meet it head-on.
The Qird lunged, both hands swinging down, aiming straight for his chest.
Malik ducked, the claws slicing through the air just inches above his head.
Mimicking a squat, his legs pushed back up, slamming his body into the creature.
“FALL!”
The force of the collision sent both of them crashing to the ground, a loud impact that kicked up a cloud of dust and ash.
“Ugh…”
Malik felt the flames bite into his skin, the searing pain spreading across his arms and chest.
But he didn’t let go, didn’t even flinch.
His hands, still wreathed in golden fire, clamped around the monkey’s neck, squeezing tight.
The Qird thrashed beneath him, clawing at everything.
Malik could see it clearly now—the primal will to survive burning in its gaze.
But ‘will’ was nothing in this world.
His grip tightened, his own fire consuming its.
Then, with a final, brutal twist, he snapped its neck.
The creature went limp, the fire in its eyes extinguished, literally.
Malik stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily, his hands still around its neck.
The heat faded, leaving only the scent of charred fur and blood in the air.
‘Huh, I actually pulled it off… thought it’d be harder. Guess all that scouting was overkill.’
Kieek… kieeek…
Not even a second later, he heard it—two faint, muffled cries from the left.
‘Ah… I should’ve just stayed quiet.’
His head snapped up, his body tensing as he turned to look.
There, just beyond the charred tree, stood two smaller Qirds.
Their flames were dimmer, their bodies smaller, but their features were the same.
“Damn it.”
Malik let go of the Qird’s body and rose to his feet, yanking his blade free from its flesh.
The red-hot metal hissed as it met the cooler air, its hilt nearing its melting point.
It was flaming, to say the least, though thankfully he saw no issue in that.
The smaller Qirds didn’t move, their tiny bodies trembling as they stared at him.
He sighed, raising his blade and pointing it at them.
“Go.”
They didn’t move.
They just kept staring, their small, glowing eyes filled with hatred.
He sighed again, deeper this time, and stepped forward.
That was all it took.
The little Qirds let out soft cries and turned, scampering off into the forest.
Their flames flickered as they disappeared into the distance, leaving Malik alone with the body of their parent.
“Great…”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“Now I’m the bad guy—”
“You are, though~.”
Malik glanced to his right.
…Sinbad.
Clicking his tongue, he looked away and knelt down beside the corpse.
“Whatever.”
His hands were steady as he began, the blade making quick work of the tough, charred skin.
He pulled it back to reveal the glowing red Aether Core nestled within.
It pulsed faintly, warm to the touch as he pried it free.
Malik held it up, turning it in his hand as he examined it.
The core was beautiful, its light dancing like liquid fire.
“Perfect.”
He stuffed it into his belt, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood.
Then, he scanned the area, his eyes landing on a dark spot in the distance—a cave.
“That’ll do.”
It was a place perfect for his cultivation.
He trudged toward it, and as soon as he passed the entrance…
“Haaaahh…”
Malik let go of his tough facade and dropped to the ground.
Slowly, he leaned back against the cool stone wall, letting it take some of the weight off.
His chest rose and fell, every breath a reminder of how much his body hated him right now.
And his eyes slipped shut as the weight of the past few days finally caught up to him.
The red Aether Core pulsed faintly in his belt, its warmth just enough to lull him into a comfortable sleep.
It wasn’t just a trophy—it was proof.
Proof of what he’d done and all the crap that still lay ahead.
Malik’s lips twitched into a tired, bitter smile.
“One step closer.”
With that, and the sound of the wind howling outside, he let himself rest.