Chapter 297: Ten Jinn
***
{Inside The Projection}
The air burned hot.
Malik’s mere presence had stuffed a forge into the sky and left the coals to rot.
Thick smoke drifted through the canyon, curling around his legs like a leash trying to drag him back into Hell.
He remained standing, blood dripping from his face, his black cloth doing no better.
The fire inside him was flickering low, but not out. Never out.
He breathed once. Deep. Like someone remembering how lungs worked.
And finally, fucking finally, across from him, they came.
Ten Jinn.
All Al-Wali, Demon Sovereigns, one sub-rank below his.
They were not artificial ones, wannabes, or half-trained bastards.
These were the real deal. Elite-bred. Freaks who probably hadn’t lost a fight since they first learned how to stand.
And they weren’t alone.
Behind the ten Jinn, far above them on the ridge of the hill, stood Shimr.
He had one leg propped on a rock like he thought he was some kind of war hero, grinning ear to ear.
“Pffff—you’ve got to be kidding me.”
When he spoke, his voice carried easily, loud as could be.
“Look at you! LOOK at you! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”
He started laughing. Actually laughing. A snorty, snot-nosed laugh like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Oh my god, you really are a dumb little beggar, huh?!”
“…”
Malik didn’t respond.
Shimr leaned forward, cupping his hands around his mouth dramatically.
“Hello? Fam Iblis to burnt little beggar man? You alive in there or just pretending?”
“…”
Still nothing.
Shimr grinned wider, like Malik’s silence was some kind of game he was winning.
“Well, shit! You did it, huh?”
He clapped his hands…
“All my guys! All thirty thousand of them! Boom. Gone. Just like that!”
And then raised them both like he was showing off a trick.
“Poof! Good job, beggar! You killed every last one! All my little meat slaves! Aaaaand look at you now.”
His tone shifted, mock-serious.
“Whew. You must be so proud. Except, uh… you kind of look like garbage, not going to lie.”
“…”
Malik still said nothing.
“Aw, come on.”
Shimr pouted.
“Still not talking? What, you mad? You tired? You finally run out of those big, heroic lines? The fire boy run outta fire?”
He smirked.
“Let me make it easier for you.”
The man-child stood up straighter, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder, then raised a single finger in the air.
“How about this?”
He pointed it at himself.
“Join me!”
He then spread his arms.
“Come on! Be my slave! Crawl over here and kiss my shoes, and maybe, maybe I’ll let your little camp of beggars live. How’s that sound?”
He leaned forward, squinting.
“Sound good? Hmm?”
“…”
Still. Not a word from Malik.
Shimr scowled.
“Tch. What, too good to beg now?”
He rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.
“Fine! Whatever! Don’t worry about the thirty thousand—I can always get more!”
He laughed again. Ugly. Loud.
“Y’know what? I’m bored.”
He turned his back to them, waving lazily over his shoulder.
“Kill him.”
And just like that, he walked away, disappearing into the ledge.
Following his words, his ten Jinn stepped closer.
Their eyes glowed with the colors of their Aether—blue, green, red, obsidian.
Like him, each of them was twisted by the element they’d mastered.
So much so, the air warped around them, clashing with his fire.
Each one standing here could tear apart cities. Elemental freakshows.
Each one stood at approximately fifty percent of Malik’s strength.
All of them together?
Now, when he was at his weakest?
It should be enough…
Right?
They sure hoped so.
Quietly, almost reverently, the ten formed a loose arc, mimicking a firing squad that didn’t want to get too close.
One had jagged obsidian claws and skin shielded by some type of condensed crust. Earth.
One was half-dark, constantly flickering. Void.
One dripped frost from her arms, the ground freezing with each step. Ice.
One hovered off the ground, a wind-devil in human shape. Air.
One walked barefoot, every step bursting into flowers and poison. Nature.
One glowed electric, sparks running through her braided hair. Lightning.
One breathed steam, skin leaking hot mist. Water.
One had a… horn, no eyes, and a constant aura of pain pulsing from him. Sound.
One had two swords—one silver, one black. Chaos.
And the last—the leader—stood with a spiked mace resting on his shoulder. His element? Metal.
He looked the simplest but felt the most dangerous.
“You’re out of Aether, boy.”
The metal Jinn called, taking a stance.
“Shouldn’t even be upright.”
“…”
As usual, Malik stared, not bothering to speak.
“I told you it was better to wait.”
Another one, the void Jinn, chuckled.
“Right… interrupting his ascension might’ve taken us along with him.”
His Chaos buddy agreed while the blind one nodded his head:
“And it looks like it did him more harm than good.”
The ice Jinn took a stance, continuing to talk like Malik wasn’t right in front of them:
“Let’s take him apart.”
Lighting Jinn did the same:
“Quick. Don’t want him pulling any martyr stunt.”
And with that, they moved.
All ten.
No restraint.
They knew better than to hold back.
Ten blurs of color and heat and sound rushed in, a tide of elemental death crashing toward a barely standing man.
Yet that man wasn’t defenseless.
Rather, he was from that.
It was all but an act.
BOOM.
Malik vanished.
The earth cracked under where he stood, a crater blooming in the stone.
He reappeared mid-air, above the ice Jinn, who was already weaving a massive attack.
Just as she noticed him, she immediately switched her attack to a glacial wall.
Even then, she was too late.
Malik dropped like a hammer, easily breaking through the ice with his Spine Splitter.
The impact froze his sword, momentarily dulling its attacking capability, yet Malik didn’t seem to care, knowing that his fist could easily get the killing blow.
And he was right.
His fist lit with a golden flicker.
It was relatively weak. But aimed right, it didn’t need to be strong.
That was proven to be true the moment his fist made contact with her chest.
Her spine instantly collapsed inward with a crunch, and she was dead before she hit the ground.
’One.’
But she didn’t leave the world without saying goodbye.
On the way down, frost caught his legs, ice splinters ripping into his thighs, spraying his blood onto the ground, painting it red.
Malik didn’t seem to care.
The air Jinn didn’t either.
He dashed in, trying to use his speed.
Malik waited for him, calm, then pivoted.
He caught the bastard by the wrist mid-swing. Twisted it.
Then threw him into the approaching void Jinn with a supersonic blast.
BOOM.
Both of them went down in a tangled heap of bone and shock.
Malik didn’t chase.
But even then, air blades caught his shoulder as the wind Jinn crashed into the ground.
His skin split.
…Shallow.
It didn’t give him pause.
His eyes looked up; four of the remaining nine were upon him.
One from each horizontal direction, each attack bigger than the last.
Malik couldn’t block that.
He needed to move.
BOOM.
Vanishing for a moment, he reappeared far above, overlooking the entire region.
But even up there, he wasn’t safe.
The lightning Jinn clapped her hands together.
A giant spear of raw lightning materialized and launched at him.
It moved at the same speed he did.
He couldn’t dodge it.
So, Malik did the only thing he could.
He caught it.
KRA-KOOM!
It fried his arms, tearing through his robes.
His skin blackened. Veins glowed. But he held it.
And then?
Using the momentum it generated, the spear’s own damned force, he spun and hurled it right back at her.
FWOOOM!
It cracked the air and slammed into her chest so hard her spine kissed the back of her skull.
She didn’t even manage to let out a scream—just got blasted off.
Straight into the hill behind her.
BOOM.
Dust, stone, death.
She didn’t get back up.
Malik didn’t blink.
’Two.’
His arms smoked. Fingers numb. Sparks jumped between his teeth.
The pain was incredible, racking the insides of his body, but still, he appeared unfazed.
He calmly watched as the obsidian-clawed Jinn came from the left, slashing at him.
Malik dipped, and the very space above him tore apart, the air trembling, sucking him in.
Pushing his palms upwards, he blasted himself down, away from the tear.
But he still wasn’t in the clear.
He had blasted himself straight into a pocket of indescribable chaos.
The moment it made contact with his body, his whole world turned pitch black.
His eyes met an endless void, one populated with the same bastards attacking him.
That wasn’t the only change, for he immediately felt sluggish and simply disoriented.
Unfortunately for them, that attack didn’t increase their chances of victory.
Malik was more than used to such conditions, having survived poison and more void than any Magi possibly could.
He landed hard on the ground—knees bent, feet kicking up—another Devil’s Footstep about to be unleashed.
But then—snap!—something yanked.
Veins, black and writhing, lashed around his ankles like snakes.
They were too tight and fast, giving him no movement.
It didn’t matter.
He slashed low with his Spine Breaker, one clean arc.
The veins fell apart in an instant.
The nature Jinn’s eyes went wide.
She hadn’t expected that. No one ever cut those, especially not that easily.
Malik was in the clear, but just as he stepped forward—VVVVMPP!
His sword was wrenched right out of his hand.
Ripped away by something stronger.
He looked up—
’Hm.’
And saw it.
A miniature pocket.
One connected to IT.
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