The Awakening Of The Last Knight.

Chapter 5, The Real Strength of The Black Knight.

Ali’s blade came down in a silver arc, striking the detective square in the back and sending him sprawling across the floor. The force of the blow knocked the plasma sword from his grip, sending it skittering into the shadows. 

"I Got him!"Ali thought, adrenaline surging. 

But before he could press his advantage, the detective rolled onto his knees—and caught Ali’s next strike with his hand. The blade screeched against the armored gauntlet, sparks flying as the detective stopped the sword dead in its path. 

Ali’s breath hitched. "No way." He’d put everything into that swing—yet the detective hadn’t even flinched. Worse, he was now "pushing back" forcing Ali’s own weapon toward him with terrifying ease. 

"Surprised, much, kid?" The detective’s voice was a mocking growl. "What did you expect? That just because you got your hands on some fancy armor and a sword, you’d suddenly become a knight?"

Ali’s arms trembled under the pressure. Panic clawed at his chest—his Stealth Move had failed. His strongest attack had been brushed aside. And now, unarmed or not, the detective was winning. 

With a desperate heave, Ali disengaged, leaping back just as the detective’s free hand shot toward him. 

"Shadow Fog—activate!"

The command tore through the air like a curse. 

Darkness erupted—a living, suffocating void that swallowed the room whole. Ali staggered, his visor struggling to adjust, but the blackness was absolute. His heart hammered against his ribs. " This is bad! I can’t see. I can’t—" 

"Do you know what this is?" The detective’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, dripping with amusement. 

Ali spun, slashing blindly. His sword met only air. 

"This," the voice whispered, now behind him, "is the difference between your strength and mine. You’re a hundred years too early to challenge me."

A presence—close. Ali reacted on instinct, swinging with everything he had. 

Steel met plasma in a deafening crash. 

The force of the counterblow sent shockwaves up Ali’s arms. His knees buckled. For the first time, he realized the truth: the detective had been holding back. This strike was the first real strike—a monstrous, bone-jarring impact that lifted Ali off his feet and hurled him across the room. 

He hit the wall with a sickening crunch. White spots exploded across his vision as his armor flickered—then deactivated, the plates dissolving into motes of light. 

Dazed, Ali slumped to the floor. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the detective’s face—the wide, predatory grin of a hunter who’d never once doubted his victory. 

______

Ali groaned as consciousness returned to him in waves, each pulse sending sharp jolts of pain through his body. His muscles ached as if they had been torn apart and stitched back together, and his head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Blinking against the sterile white light above him, he slowly registered his surroundings—a clean, quiet hospital room, the hum of medical equipment the only sound breaking the silence. 

"How…?"

The last thing he remembered was the crushing impact of the detective’s blow, the way his armor had shattered under the force before darkness swallowed him whole. And yet, here he was—alive, in what looked like an ordinary hospital. 

Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up, but a fresh wave of pain lanced through his shoulder, forcing him back down with a hiss. 

The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped inside, her expression softening when she saw him struggling. 

"Easy there," she said, her voice gentle but firm as she moved to his side. "You’re in no condition to be moving around just yet."

She adjusted the pillows behind him, helping him sit up with careful hands. Ali winced but managed a nod of thanks. 

"Where…?" His voice came out hoarse, his throat dry. 

"You’re safe," the nurse assured him, though her eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite place—hesitation? Pity? "I’ll get the doctor for you. Just stay put, alright?" 

Before he could ask anything else, she slipped back out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

"This doesn’t make sense." He thought to himself.

He remembered the detective’s merciless grin, the way the fight had been completely one-sided. Was this some kind of trick? Were they toying with him, lulling him into a false sense of security before throwing him back into interrogation? 

The door opened again, and this time, the nurse returned with a man Ali assumed was the doctor. Tall, with sharp green eyes partially hidden behind sleek sunglasses and neatly styled brown hair, the man carried himself with an air of effortless authority. He offered Ali a small, professional smile as he approached. 

"Good, you’re awake," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "I’m Doctor Zain. And you must be Ali."

Ali studied him warily. "Yeah. What happened to me?"

Doctor Zain pulled up a chair beside the bed, flipping through a chart with practiced ease. "Dislocated shoulder, extensive bruising, and a mild concussion. Nothing life-threatening, but you’ll need time to recover." He glanced up, his gaze piercing even behind the sunglasses. "You’re lucky, you know. Another hit like that could’ve shattered bones."

Ali’s jaw tightened. "Lucky isn’t the word I’d use."

The doctor chuckled, though there was no real warmth in it. "Fair enough. Still, you’re in the best place for it. This is the Knights Association’s private infirmary—we treat our own here."

Our own. The words stuck in Ali’s mind. Did that mean they didn’t see him as an enemy anymore? Or was this just another layer of the game? 

"So I’m still a prisoner," Ali muttered. 

Doctor Zain’s smile didn’t waver. "Let’s just say you’re… under observation. For now, focus on healing." He stood, tucking the chart under his arm. "Rest up. Someone will come by to check on you soon."

With that, he left, the nurse lingering behind to set a tray of food on Ali’s bedside table. 

"Eat something," she urged. "You’ll need your strength. After, I’ll bring your medication."

Ali stared at the meal—simple but hearty—before looking back at her. "Why are you helping me?"

The nurse hesitated, then sighed. "Because it’s my job. And because… not everyone here agrees with how you were treated."

Before he could press further, she turned and left, leaving him alone with more questions than answers.