"Now," Zayran said, his voice calm, almost amused. "Let's kill each other."
Rayan, Malrick, and Orien stared in disbelief, their hearts pounding as one.
"How is he still alive?" Orien whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling air.
Zayran turned his gaze to them, eyes gleaming with an eerie calm. "Because I'm stronger than you think."
Darkness began to coil around him like a living thing, thick, shifting shadows that bled into the ground and sky. It was not mere nightfall, but something far older and hungrier. The darkness twisted and expanded, taking shape: creatures without names, a realm born of void and silence, as if Zayran carried an entire world of emptiness within him.
And that world had just awakened.
Zayran unleashed a fearsome attack, his aura crackling with dark intensity as he summoned a colossal serpent from the very shadows beneath his feet. The monstrous snake slithered forward with terrifying speed, its eyes glowing like molten coals as it locked onto Rayan and Orien. Fangs bared and tongue flicking, it lunged. Silent as death, swift as vengeance.
But before the beast could reach them, a figure stepped between the serpent and its prey. Malrick.
He moved without hesitation, his cloak billowing like smoke in the wind, his hand raised not in fear, but in defiance. The ground trembled beneath his boots, yet he stood unshaken, a wall of will against the tide of darkness. His eyes burned with the fire of something ancient, something unyielding. And in that breathless moment, it was not a man who faced the snake, but a storm bound in flesh.
In the blink of an eye, the serpent struck.
Its fangs, long as daggers and glistening with venom, sank deep into Malrick's flesh. The sound was sickening. A wet, brutal crunch that echoed in the stillness, followed by the hiss of triumph from the beast. Its jaws clamped down with merciless precision, burying themselves in his side, just beneath the ribs. Blood welled up instantly, dark and thick, soaking into his tunic and trailing down his body in crimson rivulets.
Malrick staggered, but did not fall.
His eyes widened, not with fear, but with the raw force of pain, and perhaps something else. An ancient resolve that pulsed brighter than agony. He clenched his teeth, his breath ragged, and forced himself to remain standing, as if sheer will could deny the venom coursing into his veins.
And behind him, Rayan and Orien stood frozen, paralyzed not by the threat, but by disbelief.
It was as though the world had stopped spinning. The wind itself seemed to hold its breath. They watched, helpless, as Malrick bore the full fury of the creature meant for them. Their minds refused to accept what their eyes could see: that the one who had always stood tall, who had never known defeat, now stood wounded, pierced by the fangs of a monstrous serpent.
Orien's lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Rayan's fists clenched at his sides, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. Neither of them moved, not because they were cowards, but because the moment was too vast, too surreal. too heavy with the weight of sacrifice.