The youth cast aside his cloak and dashed with inhuman speed toward the shattered walls of Coimbra. Soldiers collapsed by the dozens, torn to pieces before they could even register the attack.
The Moorish guards soon realized they were under attack and shouted for the army to arm themselves. It seemed to them that an enemy force was storming through the ruins of the city.
Soldiers rushed out with scimitars and bows to defend Coimbra, but it was useless. Heads, limbs, and entrails rained across the streets. The Moors caught glimpses of the youth, eyes blazing with rage, raising his sword—now red with blood.
"It's him, it's him! Kill him!"
they shouted in Arabic, powerless to stop him.
Those who managed to strike him saw in horror how their swords shattered, and arrows bounced harmlessly from his body as though it were made of steel, despite his lack of armor.
Reaching the town square, the boy burst into a house and found a woman's corpse, arrows piercing her back. She clutched the lifeless body of a child. The youth knelt, closed the woman's eyes, then rose slowly. Soldiers stood in the doorway, bows drawn.
In Old Galician he said:
"I will not let you defile her further. You bunch of beasts!"
Their heads rolled across the floor before they could release their arrows. Another soldier trembled before him.
"Where is your leader? That man—Almanzor?"
asked in Old Galician.
Though the soldier did not understand Galician, he caught the name and, shaking, pointed toward Coimbra's cathedral atop the hill. The youth's eyes glowed a fierce green as the soldier collapsed, decapitated in an instant.
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Bolts of electricity sparked across the boy's body, and the ground split beneath his feet.
Through rivers of blood and corpses, he reached the cathedral and shouted with all his might:
"Almanzor! Come out so I can kill you, you son of a bitch!"
Arrows, stones, even boiling oil rained down upon him. His clothes tore, but his body remained unharmed. Panic spread among the defenders.
The cathedral itself was no grand edifice. Once an episcopal seat since Roman times, it now stood old and neglected, its yellowed walls cracked, the statues of saints worn away. A great cedar door, moldy and half-rotted, barred the youth's path.
"You killed my mother and my friends, you filthy Moorish bastard! If you're brave, come out and face me with your sword!"
the youth roared.
Terror swept the soldiers.
"A jinn! By Allah, a monster, a demon! We've angered the jinn!"
they cried, fleeing in chaos.
Inside, Almanzor had been praying with his elite guard and exorcists when the soldiers burst in, trembling and interrupted him.
"Stop them! How many are there?"
Almanzor bellowed.
"O... only one, my lord,"
stammered the soldier.
"What?! Just one? You drunken fools! How can one man defeat you all?"
the warlord screamed in fury.
"It's a monster, my lord... a jinn,"
the soldier muttered.
"A jinn? Idiot! Go and kill him!"
Almanzor spat, signaling to his elite.
"You, protect my life. By Allah, I'll crush this dog myself."
Outside, the youth kicked the massive cathedral doors apart as if they were clay. The three-meter slabs of cedar, weighing hundreds of kilos, splintered into pieces.
"Almanzor!"
the youth screamed like one possessed, as the last soldiers fled in terror of the supposed demon.
The Moorish conqueror seized the arm of the lead exorcist, a veiled woman.
"Send that jinn back to the abyss! Now!"
he demanded.
"My lord," she replied, trembling, "we have never seen a jinn take physical form. They usually possess humans—we exorcise them. They do not appear like this, unless—"
Almanzor struck her with his scepter, breaking her teeth.
"I didn't ask for excuses! I said do it—or I'll behead you!"
But it was too late. The second door collapsed, and the boy appeared in the shattered archway, hair whipping in the wind, green eyes blazing with hatred. His skin and sword dripped crimson with the blood of countless men.
He fixed his murderous gaze at Al-Mansur and grinned like a madman.

