A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 4848

“You lot dare to touch Mr. Chance?” Ararat and Kishor launched themselves into action.

In an instant, the sky lit up with dazzling streaks of sword light. The eight swordsmen found themselves instantly halted, their every move blocked by the relentless barrage of attacks from Ararat and Kishor.

The two guardians of the Celestial Stairway were locked in fierce combat with the swordsmen.

Stefan stood silently, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he watched the chaos unfold. “This is becoming more and more interesting...” he murmured to himself.

Rostam, still reeling from the sheer power of Ararat's swordsmanship, couldn't hide his astonishment. “Who are you? Why do you have such impressive sword skills?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Ararat responded with a mocking tone. “If we're being honest, I could well be your grandfather, given how pitiful your swordsmanship is. It's a disgrace to the name of a swordsman.”

With that, he transformed into a streak of sword light, his blade descending with terrifying speed.

Rostam, sensing the overwhelming intensity of Ararat's sword intent, instinctively stepped back, knowing he could not face the attack head-on. “Set up the formation!” he shouted.

At his command, the eight swordsmen swiftly swung their blades, severing the cloth bags holding their sword cases. The cases shot into the sky, and in an instant, beams of light erupted from within them, each beam as sharp and precise as a sword. These rays of light shot toward Ararat, revealing a hidden mechanism within their sword cases.

Boom!

Ararat swung his longsword with precision, conjuring an impenetrable shield before him, deflecting the relentless onslaught of sword energy.

Seeing this, Rostam wasted no time. He bit his finger, using his own blood to inscribe a cryptic symbol onto his blade.

Noticing Rostam’s actions, the other seven swordsmen followed suit. One by one, they bit their fingers, tracing intricate markings onto their swords with their own blood.

As soon as the last stroke was completed, the longswords in their hands began to tremble violently.

Then, in perfect synchronization, the eight swordsmen hurled their swords into the air. The blades converged, merging into a colossal greatsword.

The newly formed greatsword hung suspended in mid-air, radiating an oppressive force so intense that the very void seemed to tremble beneath its presence.

The greatsword surged toward Ararat like a descending judgment, its immense pressure distorting the space around it. The eight swordsmen moved in unison, positioning themselves strategically as fresh droplets of blood splattered onto the ground.

Beneath Ararat’s feet, the ground trembled violently before a sword array gradually took shape, locking him within its confines.

From all directions, countless streams of sword energy surged forth, converging with the colossal greatsword as they all struck toward Ararat in unison.