Chapter 104: Golden Dawn

Numerous copies of Malachi's giant sword materialized in the air and plummeted down towards Ezra. He dodged and weaved, his now healed wings and tail allowing him to maneuver through the deadly rain. Despite his agility, several swords found their mark, piercing his flesh and drawing blood.

Ezra gritted his teeth, enduring the pain and focusing on Malachi. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance and drove his sword through Malachi's gut. Malachi's tentacles wrapped around him, squeezing with bone-crushing force. Ink surged forward, sizzling as it burned his skin.

Ezra gritted his teeth, enduring the pain as he spread his wings, trying to break free, but Malachi held fast, a tentacle wrapping around one of his legs.

Malachi's sword flashed out, severing Ezra's wings. His tentacle held Ezra up and then swung down with tremendous force. Malachi kept swinging Ezra into the ground, beating a crater into the floor.

Ezra felt every part of his body break and reknit with every swing. He growled in frustration as his wing kept regenerating. He needed to end this, and quickly. His sword lashed out, severing the tentacle holding his leg. With a beat of his wings, he put distance between him and Malachi.

Malachi surged after Ezra, unwilling to let him create distance. Ezra coated his blade in his darkness and turned to meet his charge. He cut Malachi's advancing tentacles, being pushed back step by step.

As he fought, Ezra noticed something. Each time his sword cut into Malachi, he felt a surge of vitality. His sword was sapping Malachi's strength, turning the tide of the battle in his favor. He smiled grimly, bracing and readying himself for the final confrontation.

Malachi noticed his dwindling vitality and snarled, teleporting around the cavern in an attempt to disorient Ezra. Ezra's blood sang in his veins, his sword flashing out as he predicted Malachi's movements. He could feel the rhythm of the battle, each beat guiding his actions.

With a roar, Ezra lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. Malachi appeared in front of him, but Ezra was already in motion. His swinging sword descended, the blade connecting with Malachi's side and drawing a howl of pain. Malachi teleported again, but Ezra was already moving, his blood song guiding him.

The cavern was a blur of motion and fury. Malachi's tentacles lashed out, but Ezra's sword was faster, slicing through them and sapping Malachi's vitality. Malachi teleported once more, appearing behind Ezra with his giant sword raised high.

Ezra spun around, his sword meeting Malachi's in a clash that sent shockwaves through the cavern. The feet underneath him cracked in a spreading wave. They were both exhausted, their regeneration slowing as their vitality waned. But Ezra had the advantage now. Each strike of his sword drained Malachi further, weakening him with every blow.

Ezra's swordsmanship grew more aggressive with every passing second. His attacks were a blend of raw power and fluid elegance, his movements almost a dance of death. He could feel himself sinking into the same state of mastery that Shadrach had displayed during his dreams.

He blocked Malachi's strikes with a deft flick of his wrist and retaliated with cuts that made Malachi roar in pain. Malachi's tentacles lashed out in a frenzy, attempting to ensnare Ezra once again. Ezra countered with a spinning slash, his blade slicing through the rubbery appendages with ease. Black ichor splattered across the cavern floor, each drop hissing and sizzling upon contact.

Malachi's frustration was evident. His teleportation became more erratic, desperate even, as he sought to find an opening in Ezra's defenses. But Ezra's blood song continued to guide him, each key in the song a whisper of Malachi's next move.

With a sudden, vicious lunge, Malachi managed to clip Ezra's side with his sword. Ezra stumbled back, feeling the searing pain spread through his torso. He glanced down to see the wound, deep and jagged, blood pouring out. He gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't afford to falter now. His wound healed slowly.

Drawing strength from his sword's siphoning power, Ezra pressed on. He spun on his heel and delivered a powerful upward slash that caught Malachi off guard. The blade tore through Malachi's arm, severing it cleanly. Malachi howled in agony, his teleportation faltering as his vitality ebbed. Malachi's tentacles dragged him away.

Seizing the opportunity, Ezra charged. His wings beat furiously, propelling him forward with incredible speed. He aimed for Malachi's heart, his blade a blur of silver and shadow. But just as he was about to strike, Malachi teleported one last time, reappearing above Ezra with his sword poised to strike down. The previous display had been a feint!

Ezra reacted instinctively, throwing himself to the side and rolling to avoid the deadly strike. The ground where he had stood shattered under the force of Malachi's attack, debris flying in all directions. Ezra scrambled to his feet, his eyes locked on his foe.

Malachi was weakening, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Ezra could see the fear in his eyes, the dawning realization that he was losing this battle. Summoning the last of his strength, Malachi roared and charged at Ezra, his remaining tentacles flailing wildly.

Ezra met the charge head-on. Their swords clashed again, sparks flying as metal met metal. Ezra's blood song reached a fever pitch, guiding his every move with uncanny precision. He sidestepped Malachi's attacks with ease, countering with devastating blows that left Malachi reeling.

Finally, Ezra saw his opening. Ezra's blood sang, and he moved with blinding speed, driving his sword through Malachi's chest and into his heart.

Malachi gasped, his eyes wide with shock and pain. His tentacles flailed wildly, but they lacked the strength they once had. Ezra twisted the sword, ensuring the destruction of his heart. Sёarᴄh the ηovёlFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"This is for everything," Ezra said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.

Malachi's eyes flickered with a mixture of rage and resignation. "You... will... never... win..." he whispered, his voice fading as the life drained from his body. Ezra guided the shadow on his sword to shred everything in Malachi's ribs.

Ezra watched as Malachi's body went limp, his heart destroyed. The tentacles fell away, dissolving into the darkness as Malachi's black zone faded. The cavern was silent, the echoes of their battle lingering in the air.

Ezra stood there for a moment, catching his breath and letting the reality of his victory sink in. Malachi was dead. The threat he had posed was gone.

He dismissed his sword and transformed back into his human form, his body aching from the ordeal. His injuries began to heal, the regeneration slower now but still effective. He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs and revitalizing him.

With one last look at Malachi's lifeless body, Ezra turned and made his way out of the cavern.

As he made his way out and emerged from the darkness of the fortress, the first light of dawn began to break on the horizon. The sun peeked over the horizon, it's golden light painting the sky.

The Three Axe gang and the Red Orphans were now his. He had completed the punishment. He could feel the debts on his soul. His promise to Valaren. His blood oath to Miss Red. And something else.

A debt he'd recently noticed. A debt which he didn't know when he incurred. A debt whose debtor was unknown. He gazed into the sky.

It was a new day, and with it came new challenges. But Ezra was ready. He had faced the darkness and emerged victorious. And he would do it again, as many times as it took.

END OF VOLUME 1: THE BOOK OF NIGHTMARES.