Chapter 40: The Bodyguard's Comet
The swirling dust settled, revealing not the towering, three-eyed visage Wukong expected, but a figure of lean, coiled power. Clad in dark, form-fitting armor that seemed to drink the light, the man stood calmly. His eyes, sharp and cold as obsidian shards, held none of the Generals' alien arrogance, only a lethal, professional focus.
"You mistake me, Monkey King," the figure stated, his voice a low rasp that cut through the battlefield's din. "I am Gayle Sambell. The *personal* bodyguard of the Three Eyes Generals. Their shadow. Their blade."
Wukong grinned, the familiar thrill of a true challenge igniting his blood. "A shadow? Then step into the light, shadow-man! Let's see if you bite!" He hefted his staff, the *Ruyi Jingu Bang* humming with power.
Gayle Sambell didn't flinch. He raised a single hand, fingers tracing a complex, invisible sigil in the air. The very atmosphere around him thickened, growing heavy and oppressive. Shadows deepened unnaturally, even under the harsh sun. A low, subsonic thrum vibrated through the ground, setting Wukong's teeth on edge.
"The Foreboding Comet," Gayle intoned, the words resonating with chilling finality.
He thrust his hand forward. Not a beam, not a blast, but a *tear* in reality itself. From the rip plummeted a streak of absolute darkness, trailing not light, but a chilling void that sucked the warmth and sound from the air. It wasn't fire; it was the *absence* of everything – heat, light, hope. It struck Wukong not with physical force, but with a wave of pure, soul-crushing dread and entropy.
Wukong roared, a sound of defiance that turned into a gasp of agony. The dark comet *passed through* him. His golden fur sizzled and blackened where it touched, not burned, but *unmade*. A deep, unnatural chill seared his bones, a cold that felt older than the mountains. His staff vibrated violently in his grip, the divine metal groaning under the assault of entropy. Blood, dark and strangely cold, welled from cracks appearing on his skin, not red like lifeblood, but a dull, lifeless grey. He staggered, one knee slamming into the cracked earth, the impact sending up a spray of dust.
The pain was immense, a cold fire in his veins, the weight of oblivion pressing down. His vision blurred at the edges, the world seeming to drain of color and sound. The arrogant grin was gone, replaced by a grimace of pure, animalistic pain.
But the Monkey King did not fall. He did not yield.
With a guttural snarl that ripped from the depths of his immortal spirit, Wukong *pushed back*. He slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, the earth shattering further, using the recoil to force himself upright. The grey blood smeared across his fur, but his eyes, though clouded with pain, blazed with undimmed, furious light. He raised the *Ruyi Jingu Bang*, its hum now a pained whine, but steady.
Gayle Sambell watched, the faintest flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. The Monkey King stood, broken but unbroken, radiating defiance like a wounded star. The battlefield held its breath, the dust hanging suspended. The shadow of the Generals' bodyguard faced the indomitable spirit of the Stone Monkey, the air crackling with the promise of violence yet to come.
Wukong took a single, labored step forward, the grey blood dripping from his chin, his staff held high. The fight was far from over.