SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
The Roc had its monstrous wings spread wide, casting a shadow over the landscape.
Even from such a distance, every beat sent storms of wind that whipped against them.
It forced Jasmine and Safira to their knees, the tree offering them little protection.
They put their hands above their heads and rolled into a ball against the ground.
Whether it’d be of help or not was questionable as they were up against that, but it still was way better than doing nothing.
Unlike them though, Malik didn’t bother to protect himself.
He didn’t need to.
With what little ‘protection prowess’ he had, the beast could snuff his life out in an instant.
So instead, he focused on what his Royal Sword style worked best with.
Evasion, feints, rapid movement.
And this time, he was ready for battle.
Fear no longer clouded his mind.
SKREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
It let out another ear-splitting screech and dove straight for him.
Last round, it played with its ‘meal’ a little, circling it, acting cocky; now, though?
The Roc was not messing around anymore.
It decided that its ‘meal’ was served up perfectly—nice and ready, standing proud on a silver plate, awaiting to be enjoyed.
Malik, of course, had other ideas.
“It won’t end the same!”
And just like that, his instincts took over before his brain processed what he was to do.
He blinked to the side, and in his place was the Roc.
Its beak slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the earth.
Dirt, rocks, and God knows what else exploded outward like shrapnel, pelting everything in the immediate area.
Malik skidded across the grass, nearly eating dirt before he managed to dig his heels in and stop himself.
His heart was hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears, and his brain was screaming a thousand different things—none of them helpful.
“Alright… Round two.”
But he ignored all of that.
No time for hesitation.
No time for doubts.
He launched himself at the Roc, attacking it before it could get its beak out of the ground.
“Scorched Grace.”
Flames erupted from his left hand as he jumped high, leaping onto its back.
Or at least he tried.
Reality was not so kind.
He missed. Badly.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
Malik ended up slammed into its side, scrambling for a grip on its massive feathers.
SKREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
Disliking his tickling, it let out a furious screech, twisting and bucking to fling him off.
But he managed to hold on, flames flickering dangerously close to scorching himself.
Eventually, the beast seemed to pause, if only to figure out what the Hell this annoying human thought he was doing.
Malik took the chance, letting go with one hand to reach for his shamshir.
“Gotcha now!”
Raising the blade high, with all his strength, he drove it back down—
CLANG.
Only for it to bounce off like he’d just whacked a steel wall.
Not even a scratch.
“Fuck!”
The Roc retaliated instantly, spinning midair in a move that defied its massive size.
“Shit—”
Malik’s grip on its feathers failed as centrifugal force did its thing, sending him flying like a ragdoll.
His body hit the ground with a bone-crushing thud, the impact stealing the air from his lungs and lighting every nerve in his body on fire.
Pain. Blinding, sharp, all-consuming pain.
Before he could even think to push himself up, a shadow grew large upon him.
Then—darkness.
Blink.
The world reset.
The crimson owl cooed softly as it passed overhead, its feathers catching the light.
Jasmine and Safira stood behind him, their expressions confused.
Malik didn’t hesitate.
“Back. Now.”
“…Teach, what’s going on?”
Safira’s voice was obviously frustrated, but Jasmine pulled her back.
Again.
Something in his tone cut through whatever doubt she had.
“Good.”
He turned, his eyes already scanning the skies.
The hum of the Roc’s approach vibrated in his chest, and he gritted his teeth.
“Let’s try this again.”
This time, when the Roc dove, Malik didn’t just dodge.
He countered.
“Scorched Flames.”
Flames roared to life in his palm, and with a sharp thrust, he hurled a blast directly at its face.
“…”
Yet nothing much happened.
No explosion, no satisfying screech of pain—nothing.
His fire blast looked like a mosquito bumping into a human’s hand.
It fizzled on impact, a pathetic ember against its massive frame.
The size difference was just that humiliating.
But Malik wasn’t stupid—he knew his attack wasn’t going to hurt it.
That wasn’t its purpose.
The fire was a distraction, a smokescreen to mask his real attack.
Just as the flames fizzled out, he emerged from behind them.
Now, he was directly in front of the monster, just a few meters below it.
And unlike last time, instead of dodging to the side, he continued forward and charged underneath it.
The Roc, not expecting such a move, tore through the air above him, too fast to slow down.
That gave Malik all the freedom he would’ve liked.
Planting his feet deep, he raised his shamshir high up, letting it scrape against its underbelly as it went by, the blade trailing feathers.
‘Where?…’
His eyes narrowed, searching, feeling for any soft spot, any sign of weakness in the seemingly impenetrable armor of feathers.
In a second, the Roc almost fully went past, its talons nearing him.
And at that point, Malik had yet to find anything.
The realization hit hard, but he didn’t stop.
If there was no weakness, he’d just have to make one.
Sssssst!
The Roc’s talons had now reached him, slicing through the air like scythes of death.
He wasn’t fast enough to dodge; he knew that, so instead…
“RAAAAAAH!”
He took a stance, shifting his blade to the left while loosening up his feet.
A beat passed, then, CLANG!
Their weapons connected.
Sparks flying like fireworks.
Not for long, though.
Malik was sent tumbling to the right, the force behind its attack proving too powerful.
A jagged fracture snaked up the steel before the shamshir shattered in his hands.
Yet, he barely had time to mourn the loss of his blade.
Malik’s own end was announced a second later.
Before he could get up, a shadow of its wings darkened all that was around him.
Whoosh!
He looked up and saw a blur of feathers.
SPLAT!
Darkness.
Blink.
Crimson feathers.
Uneasy glances.
The faint coo of the owl.
“Move. Now.”
Malik ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
He didn’t look back to see if they obeyed.
His focus was entirely on the horizon, on the Roc that would come for him again.
But he didn’t need to check on them.
Jasmine nodded, pulling Safira with her toward the tree.
The girl could easily pick up on his mood shifts, it seemed.
“Hoohhh…”
Malik inhaled deeply, his mind already cycling through strategies.
Fire distracted it for a moment but didn’t even slow it down a smidge.
His shamshir couldn’t cut through its skin, and not even its underbelly.
He could use its force against it, plunge his blade like a stake, but it wouldn’t go deeply enough to matter.
…This gargantuan beast might not have an exploitable weakness.
At least none that were the least bit accessible.
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
The Roc appeared, its shadow swallowing the light.
Again, Malik didn’t wait for it to strike first.
“Scorched Grace.”
He sprinted forward, flames trailing from his left hand as he launched another blast.
This time his aim was better, going after its eyes.
SKREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAW!
The Roc screeched, twisting midair to avoid the attack.
He used the opening to leap onto its wing, his shamshir slashing at the joints.
Nothing.
Just a repetitive clack! Clack! Clack! Was heard.
Not even its joints were steelbound.
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!
Malik’s grip suddenly slipped as it flipped, spun, and bucked, dislodging him outright.
On the way down, he repeatedly stabbed his blade into its flesh.
Yet, again, not one time did he succeed.
He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming.
The Roc’s talons descended like a guillotine.
Darkness.
Blink.
Over and over, the cycle repeated.
Each time, Malik learned something new.
He learned how the Roc moved.
How it anticipated his attacks.
How it used its massive size to its advantage.
He learned the rhythm of its strikes.
The timing of its devastating flips.
But each time, it wasn’t enough.
He died, again and again, crushed, impaled, torn apart.
Each death was brutal.
But like always… Malik didn’t stop.
It seemed that nothing in this world could stop him.
He might’ve been weak relative to his adversaries, but that spoke of his insane spirit.
Beyond determined.
Beyond indomitable.
Beyond insane.
By the tenth Blink, his movements became almost mechanical.
“Duck left. Fireball to the eye. It spins. Leap to its wing. Climb. Aim for the spine.”
The sequence burned into his mind.
Incredible progress for sure, but that wasn’t all.
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Malik had chosen to sacrifice his blade, knowing that victory without doing so was impossible.
What was that sacrifice exactly?
“Scorched Grace.”
It was simple.
The fire, instead of just leaving it burning his palms, he could infuse it into his shamshir.
Make the blade a fiery but strong mess.
He needed a way to pierce its defense, and this was the only way he knew of.
Attempts one to five were all busts, but he succeeded in his most previous blink.
And now, he did so as well.
A red flame made its way around the steel, charring it black, but not melting it.
Malik’s lips curled into a tiny smile.
This time, he would win.