A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5911

"How arrogant and ignorant beyond measure!" Soul Devourer roared.

Jared's casual scorn had burned away his final thread of restraint; whatever reason he possessed went up in smoke.

For ten millennia, he had roamed unbeaten through the realms—never once had anyone dared humiliate him so.

"Very well," he bellowed, six wings shaking the air. "Let us see how many of my skills your strange domain can quell. Will it shield you from the Ten-Thousand-Soul Devourer, forged from a billion slaughtered souls over ten thousand years?"

All six tattered wings snapped wide instantly. Centuries of hoarded demonic aura erupted, a tidal wave of midnight flame.

His jaws released an ancient incantation, every jagged syllable steeped in venom and curse.

Each word curled the air into tomb-cold wind, and space itself shook with the wails of the restless dead.

"Soul Devour—Ten-Thousand-Soul Devourer!"

Thunder boomed, louder than mountains shattering.

It felt as though the gate to the depths of hell had swung wide.

A flood of half-seen wraiths burst forth—contorted faces, severed limbs, antique garments—black water unleashed from a ruptured dam.

They poured from every pore of Soul Devourer's flesh, then from his yawning maw, spiraling toward Jared in a storm of shrieks.

Some ghosts were armored torsos with no arms, others nothing but screaming heads, yet all converged as one ocean of nightmares.

An odor of raw resentment energy rolled across the scorched landscape—dense and poisonous—bearing the soul energy of a Heavenly Immortal and beyond.

In the blink of an eye, that fury congealed into a sea of pitch-black souls thousands of yards wide.

Waves rose and fell, and billions of wraiths surfaced only to sink, screaming without end.

They tore at one another, yet every fragment of their hunger reached outward, eager to sink its teeth into any living thing nearby.

The blend of perfect spite and absolute death chilled the super-heated abyss until it felt like an icebound purgatory.

This was one of Soul Devourer's true trump cards, a life-bound soul ocean forged over ten millennia of razed cities and murdered kingdoms.

Where that ocean spread, breath and thought alike were silenced; flesh perished, souls vanished.

Now, the inky tide surged toward Jared's modest Chaotic Fire Domain, intent on drowning both the gray field and the man who stood inside it.

Another heartbeat and the hungry dark would have swallowed him whole.

Yet even as that world-ending surf blotted out the horizon, Jared's expression did not change.

He did not even so much as glance at the oncoming sea of souls.

He simply lifted his left hand and pressed his index and middle fingers together—the quiet posture of a sword.

At his fingertips, a dot of crimson-gold light awakened, pure, blistering, sovereign, as though born to burn every stain from creation.

"Earthfire True Flame—Heavenburn," he murmured, as if reciting the simplest fact in the universe.

The abyss answered with a draconic roar that split stone and thought alike.

The pinprick of light detonated.

What burst forth was no ordinary flame but a hundred-yard fire dragon wrought entirely from the purest Earthfire True Flame.

Each gleaming scale caught the crimson-gold radiance and hurled it back in blinding shards. Its head was regal, and its eyes held fires that would never go out.

One majestic cry reverberated through the abyss, carrying righteous energy fierce enough to scour demons from the bones of the world.

Needless to say, Earthfire True Flame—the most supreme positive energy—was the natural bane of Soul-Devouring Technique's ultimate negative energy.

Without hesitation, the fire dragon dived straight into the black ocean of souls.

Hiss!

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