The earth shook beneath their feet as the golem and the demon, clashed with such force that the entire church trembled. The golem threw its stone fists at the demon, which retaliated with claws and brute strength. Each blow sent shockwaves through the ground, rattling the bones of those watching from a distance.
The priest, who had stood confidently at the beginning of the fight, his face twisted with smug arrogance, slowly began to scowl. He had summoned the demon with the belief that it would crush the golem with ease, tearing it apart like a doll. But the two giants were locked in battle, and though the demon was slightly stronger, the golem held its ground, each strike from the demon met with a heavy counter-blow. The priest's lip curled in frustration. "Tsk... this shouldn't be happening," he muttered to himself, his eyes darting between the titans.
Desperate to tip the scales in his favor, the priest raised his one remaining hand and began casting spells, muttering incantations to strengthen the demon. But before he could finish, a loud, guttural yell broke through the chaos. "Ahhh...!" It was Amukelo. The priest's head snapped towards the sound, his eyes widening. Amukelo wasn't standing idle, watching the fight—he was charging straight for him. "What!?" the priest gasped, panic flashing across his face as he scrambled to retreat, stumbling back as Amukelo closed the distance between them.
The priest, in desperation, flung his hand forward, sending a barrage of wind blades at Amukelo. Amukelo, unfazed, swung his sword in a flurry of defensive motions, deflecting as many as he could.
Several of the wind blades crashed against his sword, the metal ringing with each hit. But Amukelo couldn't block all of the wind blades, one of them slashed across his left arm, cutting deep into his shoulder. He winced in pain, gritting his teeth, but he didn't slow down. Blood dripped from the wound, but Amukelo's eyes were locked on the priest, his focus unwavering.
With a roar of fury, Amukelo lunged forward, his sword raised high. "You will pay for what you have done to all these people! You mad priest!" The force of his voice echoed through the church, and in a final desperate move, the priest threw up a magical energy shield in front of himself. The barrier, shimmering with magical energy, was strong—strong enough to deflect most magical attacks—but it wasn't built to withstand the raw physical power of Amukelo's strike.
With a mighty swing, Amukelo's sword collided with the shield. For a split second, the shield held, a radiant glow pulsing as it tried to absorb the impact. But the strength behind Amukelo's attack was too much. The shield shattered with a deafening crack, shards of energy bursting outward like glass, dissipating into the air. The force of the shattered shield sent Amukelo's sword off its original trajectory, and instead of slicing through the priest's neck, the blade found its mark elsewhere. Amukelo's sword bit deep into the priest's right arm, severing it cleanly at the shoulder.
The priest let out an agonized scream, his face contorting in pain. His eyes bulged as he clutched the bleeding stump where his arm had been, his blood splattering across the floor in thick, crimson droplets. A violent burst of magical energy exploded from him, a shockwave that sent Amukelo stumbling backward, his boots skidding across the stone floor. But Amukelo didn't stay down for long. He quickly regained his footing, his chest heaving with exertion, and prepared to strike again. He raised his sword, his muscles tense as he prepared for the final blow.
But before Amukelo could swing, a sharp cry rang out, cutting through the noise of battle. "Amukelo! Your right!" It was Eliss, her voice filled with urgency. Amukelo's head snapped to the side, his eyes catching sight of the massive demon's hand barreling toward him. The demon had broken free from its struggle with the golem, and with one swift, crushing motion, it swung its enormous hand directly at Amukelo, its claws gleaming like razors.
The demon's hand was enormous, easily capable of smashing him into the ground with a single swipe. He had no time to fully evade. Desperately, Amukelo brought up his sword, angling it to block the incoming blow.
But just before the crushing blow connected, his golem intervened, its massive stone hand intercepting the strike. The impact sent a resounding shockwave through the air, but the golem wasn't strong enough to stop the demon's full force. The redirected blow hit Amukelo like a runaway boulder, not directly, but still with enough power to send him flying across the room.
He smashed into the stone wall with a bone-shattering impact, his body crumpling into the small niche created by the force. The world spun around him as he slumped to the ground, coughing up blood. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his lungs burning, and every breath felt like knives piercing his ribs. His vision blurred, shapes and colors melding together, the edges of his consciousness dimming. His ears rang, muffling the sounds of the battlefield, turning the world into a dull, distant hum.
Amukelo struggled to stay conscious, forcing his eyes to focus. Through the haze of pain and disorientation, he saw a figure approaching—blurry at first, but unmistakable. It was the priest, striding towards him slowly, savoring the moment. Each step the priest took felt like a drumbeat in Amukelo's head, each movement measured and deliberate. The priest's smug grin twisted his features, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.
Amukelo's body refused to obey him. He tried to push himself up, leaning on his sword, but his muscles were limp, his limbs unresponsive. Every attempt to rise ended in him collapsing back to the cold stone floor. His fingers slipped from his sword's hilt, and he lay there, struggling even to stay conscious. His breath was shallow, every inhale a battle against the pain radiating through his chest and limbs.
The priest stopped a few steps away, looming over Amukelo like a shadow. With a flick of his hand, the priest summoned his staff, the bloodstained rod levitating from the arm he held it earlier with to his outstretched hand. His grin widened, and he raised the staff high above his head. Above him, a massive ball of fire began to form—glowing and pulsing with a dark, fiery energy. It grew larger, and then, as if compacting the very essence of destruction, it began to shrink, becoming smaller and denser with every passing second.
"Hahaha... look at you now," the priest cackled, his voice filled with glee. "Pathetic! You should've surrendered when you had the chance. Now you'll burn, slowly... painfully. But don't worry, I'll make sure the fire isn't strong enough to kill you quickly. No, no... you'll feel every second of it."
Amukelo's heart pounded in his chest as he stared up at the growing inferno. He closed his eyes for a moment, and amidst the pain and chaos, a strange sense of calm washed over him. His mind wandered to memories of his fallen comrades—Bral, Idin, Bao... and Pao. Their faces flashed before him, each one a painful reminder of what had been lost.
"Pao..." he whispered, the name slipping from his lips like a final prayer. His vision blurred again, but this time, it was the memory of her smile, the warmth of her presence that consumed him. "I'll be joining you soon, wherever you are... I hope you and the others are waiting for me."
He could almost hear Pao's voice, soft and kind, calling out to him. "Ahh, Pao... I can't wait. I'm so tired... so tired of this pain... of this fighting." His heart ached, not from the physical wounds, but from the thought of reunion, the hope that he would see them again.
As the heat from the fireball grew unbearable, Amukelo felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He had fought so hard, endured so much, and now, perhaps this was his end. An end to all the pain. An end to the grief.
"I'm coming, Pao..." he thought, closing his eyes, bracing himself for what he thought was his final moment.