Malin stirred, the weight of the rubble pressing down on him. His body ached, bruised from the collapse of the ancient temple. Blinking through the dust, he felt a warm, familiar weight atop him. Yellow, his loyal lizard, had shielded him with its own body, protecting him from the stone and debris. A pang of sorrow struck him as he gently touched his friend, knowing that the brave creature had sacrificed itself to keep him alive.
“Thank you, old friend,” he whispered, stroking Yellow's scales one last time. “I’ll never forget you.” Steeling himself, he pushed up through the rubble, crawling his way out and into the open air. As he emerged, he took in the chaos that awaited him.
The scene before him was one of pure desolation. He caught sight of Abel locked in fierce combat with Goliath, each blow resounding like thunder. Goliath’s massive figure moved with a ruthless, monstrous strength, while Abel, though weary, fought with a ferocity driven by loss and vengeance. But as Malin’s gaze shifted, his breath hitched at a twisted, heart-wrenching sight in the rubble.
Maya’s form lay broken and still, split asunder by Goliath’s merciless blow. A single tear rolled down Malin's cheek as he took in the heartbreaking sight of his fallen companion. She had given everything for this mission, for Abel, and for the hope that this journey promised.
But then, the Sword of Righteousness caught his eye, a golden glow radiating from it even amidst the darkness. As he looked upon it, the sword seemed to call to him, filling him with a sense of purpose and strength. Beyond the sword, he could see the army of ghoulish Lost in the distance, the twisted forms moving as one, marching toward him. And further off, the shadow of Ajax the dragon loomed, a sinister presence stirring from slumber, awakened by the clashing titans below.
Calming his nerves, Malin approached the sword. His hand gripped its hilt, and he braced himself, pulling with all his might. But the blade wouldn’t budge, its weight feeling as immovable as the mountain itself. Frustration and determination surged through him as he tried again, straining to lift the weapon that could save them all. But still, it remained rooted, bound to the ground by a force he couldn’t understand.
In the quiet of that moment, a gentle voice broke through his frustration, calm and steady.
“Malin.”
He turned, and there stood the Son, a serene smile on his face, a warm light seeming to radiate from him. His presence was calming, and the worry and doubt in Malin’s heart began to ease.
The Son walked forward, placing his hand gently over Malin’s, his touch infusing Malin with a new wave of strength and confidence. With effortless grace, the Son lifted the sword from the ground, as if it weighed nothing. Then, turning back to Malin, he extended the blade to him.
“This is your destiny, Malin. Take it, and Do not be Afraid!” the Son said, his words a promise and a blessing.
Malin took the sword, feeling its weight settle in his hands with a sense of familiarity and purpose. He looked up to thank the Son, but as he did, the Son was already fading, a faint smile lingering as he disappeared into the ether.
With renewed determination, Malin looked toward Abel, who was now on his last legs, every movement filled with exhaustion but unwavering resolve. His heart surged with the knowledge that this was his moment—the culmination of every trial he had faced and every sacrifice his friends had made.
He raised the sword high above his head. As he did, a blazing light shot forth from its blade, piercing the darkness and banishing the shadows. The sword shone like the sun, radiating warmth and light, filling the desolate night with a brilliance that made the ghouls recoil, their dark forms retreating from its purity. The monstrous army staggered, hissing as the sword’s light reached them, the sunlight seemingly manifesting from the weapon itself.
The darkness fled before him, and for the first time, hope illuminated the grim landscape.
Malin’s shout echoed across the desolate battlefield, cutting through the silence as he called to Abel. “Get behind me! Take Maya’s body with you!” His voice was strong, unyielding, filled with a new authority that seemed to resonate with the power of the sword he held.
Abel didn’t hesitate, moving quickly to gather Maya’s body, his movements heavy with both reverence and sorrow. Once he was safely behind Malin, Malin turned his attention back to the approaching army of ghouls. For the first time, he noticed something different in their demeanor. They weren’t singing that eerie, haunting song. Instead, they were silent—terrified, even. Their twisted, ghostly forms hesitated, recoiling from the light emanating from the Sword of Righteousness.
A realization struck him then, and a smile spread across his face. These creatures feared the light—no, they feared the sunlight, the very essence that the sword embodied. This was more than just a blade; it was a weapon of pure, unadulterated light, the sun itself manifest in his hands.
With a fierce grin, Malin raised the sword high, feeling its power hum through his muscles, and slashed it forward with all his might. The blade cut through the air, and a torrent of blazing sunlight erupted forth, a scorching wave that tore across the battlefield. More than a third of the ghoulish army was obliterated in an instant, their forms disintegrating, leaving nothing but a fading shadow in the sword’s wake. The ruins behind them were scorched clean, wiped away as if they had never existed.
“That’s one!” Malin shouted, his voice filled with triumph. He felt the energy pulsing through his body, unnatural and overwhelming, driving him to push further. He pivoted, focusing on the next group of ghouls. They hesitated, fear paralyzing them—but then, in desperation, some surged forward, realizing that standing still meant certain death.
But they were too slow. Malin’s second slash cut through them like a wildfire. Another swath of sunlight tore through their ranks, obliterating every ghoul caught within its searing path. Their anguished cries filled the air for a brief moment before silence reclaimed the ruins.
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“Two!” Malin counted, the thrill of victory surging through him as he turned to the last group. These were the ones who had turned and run, desperate to escape the deadly light. Malin could feel the power building within him, an intensity that drove him forward, faster than he’d ever moved in his life. With a burst of speed that defied human limits, he closed the distance in mere seconds, crossing nearly a mile in the blink of an eye.
With a final, powerful slash, he brought the sword down, releasing a blinding arc of light that swept through the last of the ghoulish army. The sound of the sword’s impact reverberated across the field, a crackling, radiant explosion that left nothing in its path but ash. The last of the dark beings faded, their presence erased entirely, leaving a stillness in the air that felt almost sacred.
Breathing heavily, Malin straightened, feeling a deep, satisfying weariness settle into his bones. He had done it. The ghouls were gone, the ruins cleansed by the sword’s might. But just as he thought the worst was over, a thunderous roar shattered the silence.
Above, the sky darkened as the massive, fearsome form of Ajax the dragon soared into view, his enormous wings casting a shadow across the battlefield. The dragon’s roar was a declaration of rage and vengeance, a promise of death to anyone who dared stand before it.
Malin looked up at the approaching beast, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His grip tightened on the sword, the sunlight still blazing fiercely from its blade. He let out a laugh, a sound filled with both defiance and exhilaration. This was it—the final enemy, the last challenge.
He raised the sword, the light intensifying, ready to face whatever came next.
As Ajax descended, its talons scraping against the rocky terrain, it let out a shrill, nasally laugh that echoed across the mountains. “Ajax sees a mere mortal standing before him with foolish courage! Ha! No mortal can face Ajax and live!”
Malin tightened his grip on the Sword of Righteousness, its radiant light spilling out like the dawn itself. He looked up at the colossal beast, his expression unshaken. “Well, this mortal seems to be doing just fine, Ajax. Maybe it’s you who should be worried.”
Ajax hissed, his serpentine tongue flickering with annoyance as he spat, “Ajax fears no mortal! The mighty Ajax is ruler of these skies, conqueror of men, devourer of heroes! You dare mock him?”
“Oh, I’m not mocking you,” Malin replied, his tone calm but sharp. “I’m just saying… if you’re so invincible, why are you still here, breathing fire and fury at someone like me?”
With a roar that shook the very ground, Ajax launched himself forward, wings spread wide and talons bared. But Malin didn’t flinch. With a swift, powerful leap, he propelled himself into the air, the sword blazing with an almost celestial brilliance. Their clash in mid-air was a burst of blinding light and sound, the sword meeting Ajax’s hardened scales in a violent clash of power.
The impact sent Ajax hurtling backward, a shocked screech ripping from his throat as he crashed into the mountainside. Rocks and debris tumbled around him as he staggered, his scales singed where Malin’s blade had struck. Ajax blinked, dazed, struggling to process what had just happened. “Impossible!” he croaked, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Ajax is… the immortal one! No mortal can… can…”
Malin landed gracefully, walking toward the downed dragon with a confident stride, his voice steady as he called out, “Are you done? Or do you need another taste to understand who’s really in charge here?”
The great beast’s glowing eyes shifted nervously. Ajax, proud and arrogant, had never faced a force like this before. He watched Malin approach, the sword’s light casting a golden glow over the ruins and broken stones around them. Malin stopped just a few steps away, his gaze unwavering as he asked, “Well? Do you yield, or do I have to end this?”
For a long, tense moment, Ajax stared at the figure before him. Then, slowly, he lowered his massive head, his neck bending in submission. His voice was softer, almost a whimper, as he said, “Ajax… yields. Mighty Ajax bows to… his new master.” He kept his head lowered, a look of resentful obedience on his scaled face, accepting the undeniable power Malin wielded.
From the sidelines, Abel watched in astonishment, barely able to process what he was seeing. The humble baker had not only wielded the legendary Sword of Righteousness but had also brought a dragon to its knees.
As the dust settled and the golden light of the sword filled the mountains with an aura of peace, Abel’s mouth dropped open, amazement in his voice. “All this… by a baker.”
Malin glanced back at Abel, a small grin on his face as he held the sword high, its light marking the end of their journey. The Sword of Righteousness had been claimed, the final battle won.
Malin approached the towering dragon, Ajax, his voice steady but softened by the weight of the journey behind him. “Ajax,” he began, “I need you to take me to Bulsi-Jan. It’s time for me to fulfil my promise… to become Sultan.”
Ajax, with his head lowered, raised his eyes to meet Malin’s, a strange respect glinting within them. “Master wishes to go to Bulsi-Jan?” he replied, his voice almost reverent. “Yes… of course, Ajax shall obey. A master so powerful, so worthy…” He trailed off, clearly captivated by the thought. “Ajax would be honoured to carry such a master across the skies.”
Malin nodded, smiling slightly. “Thank you. Once you drop us off, you’re free to return here, back to the mountains, unless I call on you again.”
Ajax straightened, his immense form casting a long shadow in the early dawn light. “Ajax will wait, master. No distance is too far when the call of the Sword is heard.” His gaze softened, a rare moment of vulnerability from the formidable beast. “And when Ajax is summoned, he shall come with all the fury of the skies.”
With a deep breath, Malin turned to Abel, who was gently wrapping Maya’s body in any spare cloth they could find, a solemn expression on his face. The grief in his eyes was raw, yet determination was still evident as he lifted her in his arms. Despite the victory they’d fought for, Maya’s loss weighed heavily on them both, and the silence was thick with unspoken sorrow.
Once Maya’s body was secured, Abel joined Malin at Ajax’s side, his steps slow and burdened with grief. Together, they boarded the dragon’s back, Malin helping Abel secure Maya’s form as best they could. They took their seats atop Ajax, each lost in thought, the reality of their journey settling in.
Ajax raised his head, feeling the presence of his new master and the weight of the fallen warrior upon his back. “Hold tight, mighty ones,” he announced, a touch of reverence in his voice. “Ajax shall deliver you with the speed of a storm.”
With a powerful beat of his wings, Ajax rose into the sky, his massive frame cutting through the air as they soared over the desert, mountains fading into the distance behind them. The wind roared around them, but Malin and Abel held on, silent but resolute, hearts weighed down by loss yet lifted by the knowledge of their accomplishment.
Victory and grief, side by side, as they journeyed toward their destiny.