First, Malik targeted the Wind Magi.

The Magi stood at the edge of the hill, arms spread wide as he channeled a massive tornado to clear the field.

His winds howled and shrieked, pulling sand and rock into a spinning vortex that reached toward the sky.

But before he could unleash it, the ground directly beneath his feet erupted.

A massive pillar of stone shot upwards.

The Wind Magi tried to ride his gales to safety, his body lifted on a current of air, but the pillar moved too fast.

It slammed into him midair with a sickening crunch, pinning his body against the taller side of the mountain they fought on.

The stone didn’t stop there, closing around him like a fist, crushing his ribs, spine, and lungs, ensuring his end.

His tornado dissipated into a harmless breeze, and his body went limp, held aloft by the pillar much like a doll.

While all of that happened, the Space Magi met a different attack, forced to immediately activate his phasing ability.

His body turned translucent as the earth rippled and folded in on itself beneath him.

But Malik knew how Space worked.

Though he hadn’t fought any such Magi before, he understood that they would need a physical anchor to return to, a point in space that their Souls could latch onto when they reformed.

So Malik’s pillar attack not only crushed the ground but compressed it.

He created a vacuum of incredible pressure at the exact point where the Magi was slipping between dimensions, collapsing the space around in preparation for his return.

The moment the Space Magi’s phasing duration ended, and he was forced to materialize...

CRUNCH.

He found solid granite waiting for him.

Earth spears impaled him from all sides before he could even scream.

His blood sprayed across the stone, and his body hung there, suspended by the very earth he had tried to phase through.

Finally, there was the Summoner.

At the same time as her two now-dead allies were being wiped out, she had desperately dumped all her remaining Rukh into creating an entire fortress of sand golems around her.

Many more dozens of towering constructs formed a protective ring, their massive bodies blocking her from view, their stony fists raised to strike.

But it was a useless defense against the man who controlled the earth itself.

Malik raised his hand again, and the ground beneath her golems liquefied, turning from solid stone to loose sand in an instant.

A Magi couldn’t directly interfere in another Magi’s spell... unless the Will of their Rukh was stronger than theirs.

For Rukh to have a strong Will, one had to be of a higher Class.

In other words, Malik simply dominated her Rukh because he was an Angel.

The towering constructs sank into the earth, swallowed whole before they could throw a single punch.

"Noooooooo!"

The Summoner screamed in utter fear as her creations disappeared, not knowing what to do.

Before she could even process the loss of her summons, Malik launched the last of his single-use Soul Glyph, which were four small spikes from the ground.

They moved too fast for her to dodge or be able to summon another golem to block.

In four clean cuts, the woman’s arms and legs were severed.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She collapsed to the blood-stained earth, screaming in pure agony, her limbs lying in the sand around her.

Despite her screams, the battlefield felt deathly silent.

Everyone stared at the Sultan standing among the carnage, his dark silks entirely untouched by blood.

He had killed three powerful Magi in the span of a few heartbeats, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Malik walked over to the limbless woman and stood over her, his shadow looming over her writhing form.

Unable to do anything, she looked up at him with eyes full of terror and pain.

"Who gave you information about my return? If you answer me truthfully, I shall let you live."

Malik’s question finally shut up her screaming.

Her breath came after in ragged gasps, her body shaking from the shock of her wounds. But fear had completely broken her resolve. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t try to lie or even bargain.

"T-T-The King of Aram!"

She screamed through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her face.

"He sent us! He said you were weak! He said—AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She broke off into another scream as pain lanced through her body. No amount of adrenaline would help her through that.

Malik nodded slowly.

It seemed that even she didn’t know the king’s name.

He was that inconsequential of a figure.

"Thank you."

Malik left her there, bleeding in the sand, her severed limbs scattered around her.

The woman stared at his back for a moment, disbelief warring with relief on her face.

It seemed that she herself didn’t believe Malik would stick to his words, accepting her death.

Before he could change his mind, she quickly tapped into the absolute last dregs of her Rukh and summoned a single, small golem to lift her broken body.

The creature rose from the sand, scooped her up, and carried her desperately into the distant shadows.

But Malik wouldn’t change his mind.

Letting her live served a dual purpose.

For one, her survival was highly beneficial for him; she would spread the terrifying story of his might, telling everyone who would listen about the Sultan who crushed three Magi in a mere second and left her alive as a warning.

That story would fuel his system with a massive wave of Fear Points, spreading his name across Devil’s Maw like wildfire.

But more importantly, despite the blood on his hands and the bodies in his wake, Malik was still a man of his word. He had promised to let her live if she answered truthfully, and she had.

He, unlike many of his enemies, still held on to the concept of honor in war.

They could call him a monster; they could call him a tyrant, a villain, a butcher. But he would not be a liar, or at least not a man with no honorable ’word,’ no matter how stupid that may seem to some.

Ding!

—

╔═══════════════════╗

║NEW FACTION DISCOVERED!║

╚═══════════════════╝

[You’ve discovered Owls Faction (Class Five) — 30% Increasing!]

[You’ve discovered Maharajah Faction (Class Seven) — 40% Increasing!]

[You’ve discovered Walkers Faction (Class Six) — 36% Increasing!]

[Fear Points: 3.6 → 30.9]

—

’Hm, not bad.’

Malik glanced at the notification as it flashed across his vision.

Three new factions, each with their own fear percentage, each one now aware of his return.

Thirty Fear Points from a single battle was a good haul, especially considering he hadn’t even used a peak Soul Glyph.

But the notification also made him wonder.

Earlier, when he was attacked by that group of factions with Dunya and successfully killed many of them, why hadn’t he gained their names?

Was it because they were too weak?

No, besides the main leader who was Class Six, the others were Class Seven...

That was still respectable.

Was it because neither he nor Dunya knew their names?

That seemed more likely.

Here, Zafar likely knew these factions, having fought them before. So, like, what happened with Azeem and the "guests" earlier, their fear—and in this case, their knowledge—had transferred over to Malik through his system.

’Interesting...’

Inwardly sighing, Malik finally turned his gaze towards Zafar.

His Lucky Soldier was kneeling on the ground, staring at the absolute devastation Malik had caused in a single multifaceted move.

He remained completely stunned.

Malik walked over and looked down at him.

"After dealing with this mess, I need you to go assemble the leaders of Aram. All of them. Tell them their Sultan has bestowed them a punishment. Those of them that don’t come to the Holy Palace and kneel by sunrise..."

He paused, letting a small, terrifying smirk cross his face.

"...will be thrown into the Abyss by the time they are at their peak."