A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5946

Blaine shouted, "Jared, my young friend, be careful!"

He caught the shift first—the puppet’s ash-gray eyes flicked away from Blaine and locked onto him. The black spear shivered in its grip, then darted straight for the center of his forehead.

No flourish, no tell—only murderous precision, the kind forged for battlefields not arenas.

He had spent the last heartbeat begging for that lunge.

"Chaos Evolution—Return of the Five Elements."

The Dragonslayer Sword stayed silent at his hip; instead, his hands folded before his chest, fingers weaving a seal so intricate it burned behind his eyes.

Light bubbled up inside him—gold, green, indigo, crimson, ochre—five colors racing along his veins, converging between his palms until they compressed into a single murky bead.

He recognized the weight of it at once—the Five-Element Unification Pearl, humming like a newborn world.

The instant the pearl surfaced, the charging spear jerked as though yanked by invisible chains.

Its tip hovered three inches from his skin and quivered, unable to close the distance while the reincarnation aura threading the shaft bled into the pearl and vanished.

"Your strength comes from reincarnation," he murmured, eyes fixed on the puppet’s hollow stare. "But even reincarnation was born out of chaos."

He lifted his right hand, fingers curling as if seizing something no one else could see.

The pearl detonated into five torrents of color that snapped around the puppet’s limbs, neck, and midsection, knotting tight like living fetters.

"Chaos… strip away."

At the whispered verdict, the reincarnation sigils etched across the puppet’s gray scales flickered violently, as though the carving itself screamed.

Then the battlefield forgot to breathe.

A translucent veil unfurled from the center of the puppet’s brow, spilling cold light like a projector coming to life.

Within that screen, Jared watched a younger Soul Devourer hurled through a stone gate, assaulted by three gray figures that peeled mind from flesh and rebuilt the remainder as a shell.

The cruelty of the process—ripping soul, erasing will, forging a new body—flared in unbearable clarity, every second tattooed into his sight.

"No… avert your eyes!"

Malcolm lunged to block the image, but Gerald’s molten chains coiled around him and dragged him back.

The projection refused to fade.

It continued past the forging—showing the puppet submerged in a dark pool among countless others, each one rising and sinking like discarded weapons awaiting deployment.

Finally, the helpless construct was handed to Malcolm, no thoughts left, only reflexes honed for slaughter.

There had never been immortality here, no resurrection—only theft, dissection, and remaking.

The phantom image snapped dark, leaving only the battlefield roar and the Soul-Devouring Puppet staring into space.

Gray-white spirals churned behind its empty pupils, tightening until, for one horrid heartbeat, something like pain twitched across the dead face.

Jared felt the hair on his arms prickle; that wasn’t programmed reflex—it was memory, clawing upward, then collapsing as unseen chains yanked it down.

A heartbeat only, yet enough to rip the lie wide open.

Across the torn plain, every cultivator who had pledged themselves to the Malevolent Path Hall saw that flicker of agony.

Silence fell harder than any war-drum.

For a breath and another, nothing moved—no spell, no scream.

"T-That was the Soul Devourer?!"

"They turned him into a puppet?!"

"So immortality means turning us into that?!"

The first tremor of panic rippled through the ranks like frost racing over steel.

Eyes that moments ago burned with zeal now shimmered with doubt, fear, and a dawning, murderous fury.

"He lied to us! The Door of Reincarnation never granted life everlasting—it’s a trap!"

"We were fools—cheated!"

The cry spread like plague fog, swallowing order wherever it touched.

"Hold the line—steady!" Witherbone Demon bellowed, but the command reached no ears willing to obey.

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