A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5933

Blaine threw back his head and let out a bestial howl. "Disciples of Myriad Beast Valley—counterattack!"

A deafening roar answered, shaking stone and marrow alike.

The Three-Headed Flame Lion King burst through the barrier first; each of its crowns exhaled a different doom—scorching fire, biting frost, crackling lightning—erasing a swath of Soul Hunters in a single bound.

An Ironback Earth Dragon erupted from beneath the battlefield, its mountain-sized body plowing through enemy formations, scattering them like matchsticks.

Overhead, flocks of Thunderwing Golden Eagles stooped from the clouds, rainstorms of gilded lightning showering from their wings.

Thus began Myriad Beast Valley's ferocious counteroffensive.

At the heart of the maelstrom, Jared and the Soul-Devouring Puppet traded blows with a fury unmatched anywhere on the field.

Every clash between gray spear and Dragonslayer Sword unleashed shockwaves of law, rippling outward to warp air, earth, and the very rules that governed both.

The Soul-Devouring Puppet fought with the merciless precision of a machine stripped of memory and mercy. Every thrust, sweep, and feint carved straight toward Jared's heart or throat, its six wings shearing the air like surgical blades.

Yet an undercurrent of Jared's chaotic celestial energy flooded the ruined clearing, dampening the puppet's gray whirl of reincarnation aura and stealing just a shade of its momentum.

As the exchange lengthened, Jared began to read a pattern in the storm—perfect, yes, but looped like a flawless yet predictable string of code. That's it! If I can see the sequence, I can shatter it!

"Chaos Evolution—Earthfire True Flame!"

Scarlet-gold fire, molten and alive, blossomed along the Dragonslayer Sword's edge. Threads of hazy gray chaos curled inside the blaze, turning the sword into a roaring comet.

The next second, Jared lunged. The Soul-Devouring Puppet snapped its spear across the blow, yet the earth fire clung to the metal, raced along the shaft, and licked across the reincarnation runes etched into its armor, searing ash-white sigils into black.

For a single heartbeat, the puppet staggered—no more than the stutter of a clockwork gear—but that sliver was all Jared needed.

"Dragonslayer—Armybreaker!"

A dragon-shaped arc of light burst from the blade and punched toward the narrow seam between the puppet's chest plates.

The strike struck home with a wet crack.

Gray-white scales split; steel slid three inches into synthetic flesh.

Dark blood—maroon with swirling motes of ash—spattered across the shattered flagstones.

The Soul-Devouring Puppet lowered its gaze to the sparking wound. Whorls inside its colorless eyes spun faster, but not a tremor of pain or fear touched its face.

Instead of retreating, it darted forward. Its left hand curled into claws and raked at Jared's face—choosing a trade of flesh for flesh, programmed for murder above survival.

Jared whipped his blade free and sprang back, yet the passing claws shredded his tunic and plowed five bloody tracks across his chest.

He spat a mouthful of blood, his stare sharpening to ice. "You're a puppet, all right," he muttered, voice low. "No pain, no fear—only the command to kill."

Enemies like that were always the hardest to bury.

This was merely a test. Next time, one of us will not leave the field alive.

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