After hundreds of deaths, Malik broke it.
And now... he awaited the walls ahead.
He was sure they were coming.
Cyrus was strong.
Really damned strong.
Their fight was just beginning.
It was only going to get tougher from here.
But hey, at least this wall was destroyed.
...Or was it?
Malik lunged in, capitalizing on Cyrus's stumble.
A clean slash, his golden fire arcing like a scythe made of the Shams itself.
But the moment Spine Splitter got close, hitting silk—
SHRRRRRK—!!
Wind interfered.
A veil.
Cyrus's air slipped under the edge of the blade, lifting it, turning it, and redirecting it.
Malik's own momentum betrayed him; his blade slid clean off, barely scraping cloth, never flesh.
BOOM.
Cyrus countered.
MaIik deflected.
This repeated ten times under a second.
Until the twelfth clash... for it was a direct hit.
A spear of air, a staff like a battering ram.
Right to the ribs.
Malik's bones cracked.
His heart burned.
Blink.
