Cursed Devourer

The aftermath of battle clung to Malik like a second skin, the wounds and battle scars long gone. His steps were steady, his mind sharper than ever, but the echoes of his fight with Goliath lingered. Regenerative Adaptation pulsed beneath his skin, a constant reminder of what he'd gained.

But the story wasn't his alone.

Far from the blood-soaked plains, beyond the crumbling cities and scorched battlefields, there was a place untouched by chaos- a throne room carved from obsidian and adorned with banners soaked in history. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, the kind that devoured whispers and carried the weight of authority.

The King sat alone.

No guards. No advisors. Just him- and the shadows.

His throne, a jagged monument of dark stone, rose above the vast chamber, gilded edges reflecting the faint glow of flickering torches. But his posture was far from regal. He slouched lazily, one leg thrown over the armrest, fingers drumming against the cold metal. His crown sat askew, a careless afterthought rather than a symbol of rule.

His eyes- those piercing, predatory eyes- weren't focused on the room. They were locked onto something only he could see.

A faint shimmer hung before him, like a tear in reality itself. It wasn't the crystal ball he'd used before with an audience. This was different and far stronger. A projection woven directly from his own power, peeking through space like it was his personal window.

And within that shimmer, the battle replayed- Malik and Goliath locked in their brutal, elegant dance of death. Every strike. Every dodge. Every drop of blood spilled.

The King watched it all, his face a mask of twisted delight.

Then, as Malik finished Goliath with the golden needle that erased his heart, the King laughed.

It wasn't the polite chuckle of a ruler amused by courtly games.

It was wild. Unhinged. Ecstatic.

The sound echoed through the empty hall, bouncing off stone walls like a chorus of madness.

"Oh, Malik..." the King purred, his voice a velvet whisper layered with something darker. "You're even more interesting than I thought."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming with manic glee.

"You grow with every battle. You evolve... like a beautiful little experiment that refuses to break."

"But you're much more than that. You are favoured." He whispered to himself, not a hint of envy in his tone.

His fingers traced the air, as if caressing Malik's image through the projection.

"I can't wait to meet you," he whispered, his grin stretching unnervingly wide. "Face to face."

The projection flickered, fading into nothingness.

But the king remained there, his laughter soft now, like a secret shared with the shadows.

And somewhere, far from that dark throne room, Malik walked toward his destiny- unaware of the predator waiting beyond Potix.

...

Malik's boots pressed against the cracked soil beneath him as he continued his journey toward Potix. The wind howled against his armour, what would have once been an intense sting of cold now barely noticeable against his heightened endurance, as if it was a mere breeze.

It had been a full day since his battle with Goliath, yet there had been no interruptions- no beasts, no assassins, no scouts from the capital. That, in itself, was unsettling.

His pace was steady, yet his mind raced.

Goliath's words still echoed in his thoughts.

"The king didn't even stand up to beat me."

"Leo and Katya... They are monsters in their own right."

"An army of three billion will stand against you."

Malik clenched his fists. Even after his recent power-up, after feeling the surge of new strength course through his body, after testing his regeneration and refining his energy control, a single, uncomfortable truth remained: sheer brute force wasn't going to be enough.

He had never been one to overestimate himself, even before the system. Confidence was necessary, arrogance was death. He could take on an army of billions, sure. He had slaughtered millions before, burned through forces that thought their numbers alone would be enough to drown him. But numbers meant unpredictability. Among the billions, how many could be hiding powers, abilities, strategies that could give him unexpected trouble? The unknown factor was the most dangerous.

And then there was King Leviathan.

If Goliath was telling the truth- and there was no reason to believe otherwise- then the man sitting on the throne was on an entirely different level. Goliath had fought wars. He was a warrior through and through, possessing power that could shake the battlefield. And yet, against the King, he had been powerless.

That meant Malik couldn't charge in recklessly.

No matter how much his strength grew, he had to ensure every move, every attack, and every strategy counted. His energy reserves, his speed, his durability, and even his newly acquired regeneration- everything had to be optimized.

He let out a breath and continued refining his control over his divine flames. The more he compressed it, the more volatile it became. His swings had already been capable of levelling entire cities, but now, he had learned how to adjust the destructive output to something more surgical. Power without precision was just wasted energy. He had to be efficient.

He glanced down at his own arm, flexing his fingers before clenching them into a fist. Regenerative Adaptation had proven to be beyond anything he could have imagined. His wounds closed at speeds that made conventional injuries meaningless. But he had taken it a step further- he had inflicted wounds on himself repeatedly, watching how his body responded.

Shallow cuts healed in milliseconds.

Deep gashes that would have crippled another warrior closed in seconds.

He had even tested impalement, driving his own blade through his stomach to measure how long it would take before he was fully combat-ready again. It was nearly instant. However, decapitation or damage to his heart was still an issue. His regeneration wasn't absolute. If his head was destroyed or his heart was removed, he would die.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

'What if the King knows that?' He couldn't help but ask.

He wasn't sure what the King had seen. He had not sensed any spies this time with his perception, but he knew that the King would have his ways, he wasn't the strongest for nothing. But had the King figured out his limits? Malik had tried to keep his cards hidden but the battle with Goliath took almost everything he had, now even his smallest weaknesses were available for exploitation.

He needed contingencies.

Once again he would fight against the unknown.

And he had no intention of dying here.

...

Meanwhile, outside Potix's grand walls, the atmosphere was electric with tension. Soldiers moved in organized formations, weapons sharpened, shields reinforced. The sheer scale of the army was almost incomprehensible- an endless sea of warriors ready to defend their capital and King.

At the front of it all stood Leo and Katya.

Leo, clad in his crimson battle armour, overlooked the gathering forces with his arms crossed. His long, dark hair barely moved in the breeze, his golden eyes gleaming with unwavering focus. His presence alone demanded respect, and those under his command knew better than to show weakness.

"We've prepared everything," Katya murmured beside him, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of anticipation. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, despite the seemingly relaxed expression she wore, there was something dangerous about the way she observed the army below.

Leo's lips curled into a smirk. "Three billion warriors against one man. On paper, its laughable that we even have to prepare this much."

Katya chuckled softly. "Yet, here we are. We both know Malik isn't just 'one man'.; He's a force of nature. We don't get the luxury of underestimating him."

Leo nodded. "True. But if he thinks walking through our army will be easy, he's in for a big surprise."

Katya's crimson eyes gleamed. "I hope he makes it to us, though. It would be boring if he dies before we get out turn."

Leo didn't respond, but there was no mistaking the excitement in his gaze.

Malik was coming.

And they were ready.