A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5527

"Your... your cultivation climbed again?" Drystan stammered, face white as chalk. "Impossible! No one advances that fast!"

"Nothing impossible about it," Jared replied, tone flat. "Real strength is carved through talent and endless work, not stolen through your filthy little tricks."

With a crack of displaced air, he flashed forward, a thunderbolt in human form.

Panicked, Drystan flooded his meridians with celestial energy, but the gulf between them was an abyss he could not cross.

Jared's fist hammered into Drystan's chest—one perfect, devastating strike that seemed to ignore bone and armor alike.

Blood burst from Drystan's lips as he sailed backward like a broken kite, smashing into the floor hard enough to leave a crater.

A wet cough tore free—another spray of scarlet.

He tried to rise; his legs felt poured from lead, his body an unresponsive stranger.

"You..." Drystan whispered, terror eclipsing the pain.

"I promised you a swift death," Jared said, gaze indifferent.

He lifted his palm, lethal light gathering across the skin.

Cormac's answering laughter rang off the vaulted ceiling—wild, echoing, and drunk on its own certainty. "Laughable," he thundered, the sound ricocheting through the hall. "You think an insect like you could end me?" The manic mirth lingered in the rafters, a derisive chorus underscoring his absolute confidence.

Steel whispered free as Jared flicked his right hand. The Dragonslayer Sword dropped into his palm, runes skittering along the blade in pulses of deep gold. A muted dragon's cry swirled through the air—ever since the sword spirit had healed, its power had become a living storm inside the metal.

"Me alone," Jared said, lifting the radiant weapon, "is more than enough to consign you to the dust today." The words drifted across the chamber like a winter gale—sharp, unpitying, and final.

Cormac's smile died. Fingers blurred, forming complex seals faster than mortal sight. A surge of pale celestial energy burst from his core, spreading in front of him until it hardened into a translucent shield that shimmered with rolling bands of every color—an arrogant promise to defy any blow.

"That toy won't save you for long," Jared barked. He sprang forward—nothing but a streak of motion—and the hall floor cracked under the aftershock. Mid-leap, he raised Dragonslayer high. A torrent of sword-light roared off its edge, a silver banner cleaving straight for Cormac. The very air split apart behind the strike, shrieking in protest.