A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5444

His face was chalk-white, eyes sunken like pits, yet his lips gleamed a vicious crimson, lending every breath the tang of fresh blood.

Four demon generals circled him, drawing on the same grisly power.

Foremost among them, Caiden now possessed nearly two-thirds of a physical body. Black armor sheathed his broad chest, and a massive obsidian spear, etched in runes, pulsed within his gauntleted grasp.

The remaining three generals solidified by the heartbeat, their auras swelling until the chamber quaked.

"In a shadowed corner stood Stebarin of Malevolent Path Hall.

With every fading soul-light, his heart seemed to bleed anew."

Those spirits had cost him years to harvest—materials meant for his own Demonic Cultivation ascension. Now they funneled elsewhere, ripped away without apology by Soul Devourer.

Fury simmered behind his eyes, yet terror sealed his lips. To challenge Soul Devourer was to sign one's death warrant.

So Stebarin remained motionless, forced to watch his life's work siphoned drop by precious drop.

"Hahaha!"

Soul Devourer's laughter crashed through the hall, exultant and raw. "Such potent souls! Soon my flesh shall be whole, my power at its pinnacle once more. When that hour comes, level six—and even level nine—will lie beneath my heel!"

The generals halted their absorption, reveling in the surge of strength that throbbed within their veins, self-satisfaction curling their lips.

"Your brilliance knows no equal, My Lord," Caiden declared, spear lowered in reverence. "With your might restored, not a single force in level six can stand against us!"

"And the demon souls he's siphoned," Artemis added, brow furrowed, "have supercharged every creature under him. This fight will be nothing like the skirmishes outside the valley."

"Jared, promise me you won't charge in blind," Yuliana whispered, white-knuckling the hilt of her sword despite the tremor skating through her fingers.

Jared answered with a single nod. Gold-flecked energy whirled around him, the Dragonslayer Sword already humming in his palm, hungry for battle.

The war-barge settled onto the cracked plaza beyond the city gates. Onneas led her companions down the gangway until they stood an arrow's flight from the Soul Devourer and his dark host, holy light facing living night.

"Soul Devourer," Onneas called, her voice crystalline and carrying, "so you fattens yourself on lost souls now. I should have guessed you'd crawl to such depths."

Soul Devourer laughed—a rasping grind of broken glass. "Spare me your scorn, Onneas. Bring a hundred or a thousand, it changes nothing. When my strength returns in full, not even the Celestial King could win against me."