Malik had activated a single-use Shifting Ground Soul Glyph earlier to deal with a bunch of nobodies, leaving him with only one left, but, unfortunately, he saw that as necessary.

Sure, his people had undying trust in him, but not all of them. Some might’ve been influenced, even if only by a fraction. He simply couldn’t have that ’fraction’ exist.

And so, he did what he did.

To make things worse, his Fear Gain had slowed down greatly instead of the rapid increase he expected.

—

╔════════╗

║FEAR GAIN!║

╚════════╝

[Fear Points: 20 → 24]

—

He barely had gotten twenty-four Fear Points, which was only enough for single-use Soul Glyphs and one Scorpion’s Sting Peak Soul Glyph, which seemed to be only a supporting Rune, not something to be used alone.

Especially not when facing an entire army.

It wasn’t all that surprising; perhaps rumors of his "weakness" had spread amongst his enemies, lowering his Fear Point output, perhaps even decreasing it. After all, his earlier "insurrection" shutdown should’ve gained him a large boost!

His enemies needed another reminder.

They needed to see his might.

—

[Soul Glyphs]

[Embers Touch — 4 FP (Single) | 32 FP (Peak)]

[Goliath’s Fall — 8 FP (Single) | 32 FP (Peak)]

[Scorpion’s Sting — 8 FP (Single) | 16 FP (Peak)]

[Devil’s Footsteps — 16 FP (Single) | 32 FP (Peak)]

[Zephyr’s Kiss — 32 FP (Single) | 64 FP (Peak)]

[Shifting Ground — 64 FP (Single) | 128 FP (Peak)]

[Eternal Life — 128 FP (Single) | 256 FP (Peak)]

[Thirst’s Quench — 256 FP (Single) | 512 FP (Peak)]

[Dust to Stone — 512 FP (Single) | 1024 FP (Peak)]

—

’Hm, I need to buy a couple.’

And so, that was what he did.

—

╔══════════════════╗

║SOUL GLYPH PURCHASED!║

╚══════════════════╝

[Ember’s Touch — Single: 4, 8 FP]

[Goliath’s Fall — Single: 8 FP]

{Fear Points: 24 → 4}

—

’Hm.’

—

╔════════╗

║Fear System║

╚════════╝

{Class: 10 (Sword of Guidance)}

{Unlocking Class (9): 0 / 660}

{Fear Points: 4}

{Soul Glyphs: Ember’s Touch (Single) x 2, Goliath’s Fall (Single) x 1, Shifting Ground (Single) x 1}

—

’It should be doable with this.’

Malik dismissed the system and looked up. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

A massive battlefield stretched before him.

He stood on a raised platform at the edge of the Last Stronghold’s outer wall. Even up there, the wind carried the smell of blood and rot.

In the distance, a dust cloud rose high as a hill—the enemy army marching.

There were tens of thousands of them, maybe more.

The cloud stretched across the horizon, kicked up by boots and wagon wheels.

Following them, a low rumble reached his ears, drums, and the galloping of horses.

"Sinbad, send the traitorous dogs to the first rank. They claim themselves ready, so let’s see if they can back up that claim."

The crimson owl on his shoulder tilted his cute little head.

"Will you let them fight alone, Elder Brother?"

Malik nodded.

"They should consider it a punishment for being misled and going against their Sultan. Those who survive will be forgiven and fall under my protection once more."

Sinbad’s eyes all but smiled.

"Merciful as always, Elder Brother."

With that, he flew off, reaching the generals assembling the defense lines in the distance.

Malik, meanwhile, looked to the side, where a throne awaited him.

’I will watch for a time.’

***

The enemy attacked without any preamble.

One second, they marched; the next, they ran.

A tide of bodies surged forward, banners from a dozen different factions flapping in the wind, most too weak to be named, each a different enemy who had come to test the Sultan’s strength.

These invaders had thrown everything into this assault, fully believing the rumor that Malik was weak or that his power was a trick.

They had come to claim his head, to prove that the Sultan of Blood and Fire was nothing more than a dead legend.

Malik’s army met them head-on.

As ordered, the first rank held the armies of the traitors.

They wore plain grey tunics now, stripped of their banners and carrying the most basic of weapons, undeserving of anything greater.

Unsurprisingly, they fought hard.

Desperation drove them forward, the simple instinct not to die.

They knew what awaited them if they ran—the Sultan’s justice, the guillotine, and the end of their bloodlines.

So they were left with the hope that if they survived, Malik would keep his word, forgive them, and bring them back under his protection.

The enemy crashed into them like a wave against a cliff.

Steel rang against steel. Shields against shields. Men screamed, dying men, wounded men, men who had lost their courage and found it again too late.

The traitors dug in their heels and pushed back.

They weren’t winning. Blood ran down their faces, their ranks thinned with every passing minute, and the bodies piled up around their feet. But surprisingly, they held, forming a wall of flesh and steel that the enemy could not break, not yet, and not so easily.

Behind them, Malik’s true army waited in formation.

Archers drew their bows and released, sending clouds of arrows raining down on the enemy ranks.

Spearmen braced their weapons, ready to advance, while spell-focused Magi stood at the rear, their staffs glowing with gathered Rukh, waiting for the moment to unleash.

They rained Hell on the invaders.

Fireballs arced over the traitors’ heads, exploding in the enemy’s midst.

Lightning bolts crackled down from the sky, charring bodies where they stood. Spikes of earth erupted from the ground, impaling horses and riders alike. The invaders fell by the hundreds, their advance stalling as they struggled to push through the hail of death.

Meanwhile, the sky erupted.

Class Eight Magi and above had risen into the air.

They left the ground behind, their battle waged where they could unleash their full power without killing their own.

Sinbad led them.

He had abandoned his small form.

No longer was he the cute crimson owl who perched on Aladdin’s shoulder or nestled against Malik’s neck.

His wingspan now stretched wider than a house, his feathers glowing with incredible power.

The crimson owl flew through the enemy’s ranks like a scythe. Wind answered his call, blade after blade of compressed air being shot at anyone who dared stand in his path.

Enemy Magi fell from the sky in pieces. Ten, twenty, thirty, making the invaders below look up in horror as their betters were carved apart by a single bird.

But that wasn’t the case for much longer.

The enemy had brought their own ’strong.’

A woman with lightning crackling around her fists shot towards Sinbad. A man with skin like stone followed, swinging a hammer that glowed. Three more circled him—a Fire Magi, a Water Magi, and a living Shadow.

Sinbad dove straight into them.

Feathers, wind, and the elements collided.

The sky became a storm of blood and light.