Chapter 81: How Could I?
Malik didn’t even see the invader before the sword hacked into his forearm.
The blow came from his blind side; he couldn’t do anything but feel the sickening crunch of bone and the tearing of tendons, the way his fingers suddenly weren’t... there anymore.
His right hand fell into the mud.
Malik stared at the stump where his hand used to be.
Blood pumped from the wound in rhythmic spurts.
He knew he had to cauterize it, do anything to keep himself alive.
But he didn’t have time.
This invader had been targeting him, biding his time, and now that this opportunity presented itself, he wasn’t going to lose it.
And so, the invader lunged again, striking Malik in the back of the head.
Thankfully, Malik had leaned forward in the last moment, causing only the dagger’s hilt to connect with his skull.
A strike that dazed him, nearly making him fall unconscious. Only for him to stomp his foot into the ground and...
"RAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Scream himself awake.
Immediately after, Malik slammed his stump into the invader’s throat.
The impact was weaker without a fist, but the exposed bone at the end of his arm still did damage, gagging the invader, making him fly his hands to his crushed windpipe.
Malik lunged forward and smashed his knee into the invader’s gut, doubling him over. Malik brought his elbow down on the back of the invader’s neck, cracking his spine, but still...
"GAAAAAH!"
He didn’t fall.
"DIE YOU BASTARD!"
Rushing forth with barely working legs, the invader tackled Malik.
They crashed into the blood-soaked mud together, rolling through it.
Malik came out on top and quickly bit into the invader’s neck, flesh tearing between his teeth.
The invader thrashed wildly, trying to push him off but to no avail.
Malik held on.
"AHHHHHH!"
He bit down harder until his teeth met.
Finally, the screaming invader went limp...
Dead.
There was no one left.
This time for certain.
Many dozens of bodies lay around him in a wide circle. Some whole, most not. The mud had turned to red paste while the air smelled of very heavy blood and... voided bowels.
Malik stood alone.
Alone with his rage.
’Rage’ that was directed at himself.
He could’ve used the Soul Glyph at any point...
He could’ve done it and saved many of his soldiers...
Yet never once did he truly consider doing so.
Not only to guarantee his life, but also to ensure that if any high-class Magi came through, he was ready to deal with them.
Malik did the right thing; he knew that very well, sacrificing a few to save many, but a big part of him wanted to act on his feelings, not his logic.
It was both hypocritical and stupid, but he didn’t care.
The Sultan just didn’t want his people to die...
’Dammit.’
His legs gave out.
He collapsed onto his back, staring up at the sky.
The clouds kept moving slowly overhead, indifferent to the carnage he caused and witnessed.
His chest heaved, and blood bubbled from his lips with each exhale, most likely due to a punctured lung, while his severed hand lay in the mud a few feet away.
Malik couldn’t feel the stump anymore.
The blood loss had numbed everything.
He reached out with his left hand—his only hand now—and picked up the severed one by the wrist.
Holding it against his chest, he felt how cold the pale skin was and smiled.
’Is this how I die?’
It had started so simply, just another day, another matter he had to address, but everything came crashing down so quickly.
"Haaa..."
The setting Suns were before him, showing just how long he’d spent fighting.
Beneath, and far in the distance, almost glowing in their light, was a camel.
It seemed to be looking directly at him.
Whether lost from his army or the enemies’ ranks, Malik didn’t have enough mind to care.
He would’ve called it a beautiful sight if not for... well, the absolute massacre around him.
’Still, if these are my last moments, it is not so bad.’
But of course, this cruel world wasn’t going to allow that.
Soldiers, likely his own, threw more dead bodies onto the pile around him.
The corpses landed close, with some still... groaning.
Not all of them were dead yet.
Malik tried to call out his soldiers, the reinforcements that he had waited so long for, but he was only able to let out an unintelligible sound.
All the biting and tearing ruined his throat.
And, as if it hadn’t been enough, something tiny began to crawl out of the ground.
Many of them... perhaps thousands.
They were red bugs native to this region.
Quickly, they swarmed over the bodies, crawling into wounds, burrowing through flesh, devouring away.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The invaders that were still alive screamed as the bugs found their orifices—eyes, ears, mouths, noses—and ate their way inside.
They weren’t going to be alive for long.
It was why his soldiers threw them here.
They knew of the bugs.
Only Malik did not.
’How could I?’
How could he have let it reach this point?
In his quest for efficiency, was such a sacrifice necessary?
Could he not have been greedier?
Could he not save himself and others without having to choose?
There had to be something he could have done. A solution that would have solved all of his problems. Anything that would have resulted in something other than whatever this was!
He was the damned Sultan, for Hell’s sake!
His life should have been one of ease and luxury.
A life better than any Sultan that came before him.
...not this.
Pain and suffering.
Well, the world didn’t care for any of that.
The bugs approached the ’Sultan’ as well.
He saw them crawling across the mud, climbing over corpses, skittering toward his body.
Their legs made soft tapping sounds against the wet earth, and their antennae twitched, tasting his blood through the air.
Malik lay still.
Perhaps this was his Fate.
It was too late to use Shifting Ground now.
He was beyond whatever healing it’d give.
Even a protective cocoon wouldn’t save him.
His sand wouldn’t outlast the insects.
The insects would find their orifices.
He didn’t have the strength to stop them.
Malik could barely keep his eyes open.
But...
’How could I?’
...how could he give up?
