Chapter 121 A Man's Failure

Words : 868 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

*** {Inside The Projection} The bandits were coming in from the front in a file-like manner. Malik needed to care of them just as they arrived, otherwise, he'd be overwhelmed. "Die!"@@@@ Their first swung at him with an axe, heavy, reckless. Malik sidestepped. His curved sword flashed once before it was painted red. The bandit's charge never finished. He stumbled past Malik, his legs buckling, eyes confused—until his throat split open, spilling a dark, wet gasp onto the dirt. The second tried to grab him, reaching—mistake. Malik twisted, used their own momentum to yank them forward, and his steel bit spine. A shudder. A strangled grunt. The body slumped. But there was no time to watch them fall. Another was already coming. A spear lunging for his heart. Malik spun. His blade cut the air in an arc—sparks screamed as their weapons met. Then—a snap. The spear's shaft broke in two. Before the wielder could blink, Malik drove his sword through their gut and ripped it free, flame bursting from the wound. Three dead. The fourth swung a sword the size of a cleaver. A bad swing. Too much strength, not enough control. Malik ducked. The weapon whooshed overhead. He punished the mistake. A low sweep, his curved blade carving through the bandit's thigh—tendon severed, bone scraped. "AHHHHHHHHH!" A scream. Malik rose, sword wreathed in fire, and plunged it through their chest. 'Four.' A dagger whipped toward him from the side. Malik barely tilted his head, and it missed by a hair. He caught the wrist, twisted, and heard a snap. Then shoved the same dagger into their eye. 'Five.' A club crashed down. Malik raised his sword, one hand bracing the flat, catching the blow like an iron pillar. Surprisingly, the sheer force sent shockwaves through his arms. But he did not falter, driving his knee into the bastard's ribs. He heard the crunch. Felt the breath rush from their lungs. Then he stepped forward and slammed his blade through their collarbone, splitting muscle from bone. 'Six.' More came. A blade whipped at his ribs. Malik leaned back, arcing just beyond its reach—then drove his elbow into the attacker's face, smashing their nose into ruin. One clean stroke. Their head tumbled from their shoulders. 'Seven.' A shield bashed toward him—fast. Malik had no time to dodge. Instead, he took the hit. Let it push him backward—but not before he flicked his wrist. A thin, blazing arc followed. The shield-bearer staggered. Blinked. Then his throat spilled open. 'Eight.' Malik twisted, ignoring the pain, and drove his sword backward—a sickening crunch. The bandit choked, a blade buried through his ribs, then slumped, dead. "Piece of sh—" Interrupting his words was a cold pain that erupted in his left thigh. His breath hitched, eyes snapping down—an icicle, buried deep, frost creeping along the torn flesh. The burn of it was worse than fire. His leg buckled. 'No.' He caught himself, forcing weight onto his good leg, fingers already wrapping around the icy intruder. His grip was iron, his expression feral. With a sharp yank— Shhk! The icicle tore free, dragging a spray of blood with it, hot against the frozen wound. Malik barely flinched. Just clicked his tongue, irritation flashing behind his wild eyes. With no time to breathe, he dodged the incoming icicles, his fingers tightening around his sword. Heat rippled through the blade as he thrust forward, fire erupting in an explosive burst. It was a snarling tongue of flame that licked through the air, melting every attack before searing straight through the bastard's skull. His head barely had time to melt before he hit the dirt. Whoosh! The next bandit rushed him stealthily as his mate, likely using some sort of camouflage ability. Malik parried—but he wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough, his wounds sapping his strength. A knee to his gut sent him staggering. Experience new tales on My Virtual Library Empire Another blow slammed into his side—a club, this time. He nearly dropped his sword. The tide was turning. Too many. Too fast. Too wounded. Then—just at the edge of his vision, by a rock in the distance... 'NO!' He saw it. The next part of their tragedy. Ali Baba stood before Layla, surrounded by ten bandits. He acted as a wall between her and death... but that wall... It wasn't impregnable... he was struck. A blade rammed into his gut. Malik's world slowed to a crawl. It seemed that he had forgotten whose daughter she was. This... it was his fault. He should've made sure that she'd never step foot out here. He should've made sure. He should've... but he failed. Ali Baba had trusted him. Completely, fully. Handed over the most precious thing in his life with nothing but faith that Malik would protect her. And now? Malik could only watch. Watch as Ali Baba's fingers loosened around his staff, grip failing him. Watch as realization dawned in his eyes, shock sinking deep, deeper than the blade in his stomach. Watch as his legs buckled beneath him, strength giving out, his body folding. '...' '...' '...' Ali Baba fell.

Chapter 121 A Man's Failure

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