A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5974

Malcolm and Morven’s faces locked, shock sliding into raw terror while their eyes traced the fading after-image Jared’s casual stroke had left in the dust.

They finally understood what Jared had meant when he said the fight could end whenever he wished.

To them, it was no boast—it was a plain statement of physics.

Jared tipped his chin toward the pair. "Your turn."

The words sounded calm, yet the instant they landed Malcolm and Morven shrank as though an ice cellar had opened beneath their feet.

"Impossible—absolutely impossible!" Morven screamed, voice shredding itself against the cavern walls.

Spittle flew as he raged, "Tricks, sorcery, smoke—you’re faking it! Die for me!"

Sanity snapped; wounds forgotten, he rammed the Ninefold Nether Demonic Technique to its ragged limit.

"Nether Styx—Ten Thousand Ghosts Devour the Heavens!" he roared, every syllable cracking the dark.

Thunder rolled in answer.

Behind him a curtain of pitch-black world unfurled; serrated ghost shapes surged out, howling as they dived for Jared.

Their hollow mouths promised rot for spirit and marrow—whatever price Morven paid, he no longer cared.

Across the ruinous wind, Malcolm felt the same blade at his throat; hesitation vanished.

"Reincarnation Annihilation—Myriad Arts Return to the Void!" he intoned, dread and devotion tangled.

The phantom Door of Reincarnation behind him bucked like a chained beast and vomited rivers of chalk-pale reincarnation aura.

The vapors clenched before his chest, swelling into a cyclopean gray eye.

When the lid snapped open, a beam rich with oblivion tore outward and even the air began to decay.

Two High Immortal Realm titans, corners pressed, hurled their defining attacks as one—dwarfing what the three Reincarnation Guardians managed together.

The summit buckled beneath his boots. Above, sky and sun smeared into one bruised stain, as though daylight had been scraped away.

Reincarnation Peak shivered like an animal smelling the axe.

The roar of colliding laws hammered his eardrums, daring him to blink.

He let the challenge settle, the moment he dropped restraint and reached for the whole of his power.

He slid one foot forward, nothing more than the length of a single stride.

The mountain answered with a deep, metallic hum.

From that quiet step, an ashen radius bloomed outward—one hundred yards across before the echo faded.

Inside the ring, rivers of unborn elements curled around one another—fire, water, earth, wind—spinning, devouring, birthing in endless succession.

A pale-gold dragon silhouette coiled through the haze, singing a soundless hymn.

This was no simple barrier; it was a seedling cosmos, a Chaos World still wet with first light.

The forms from the Primal Unity Refinement Tome drifted across his memory—here, now, in living color.

Chaotic Domain, first pattern.

Barely an embryo, yet its nature already towered beyond ordinary celestial fields.

Spectral wraiths rushed the boundary, eager as moths to flame.

The newborn currents shredded them, drank them, grew on their stolen essence.

The pillar of reincarnation light speared in next, rippling the shell for a heartbeat.

Five-element cycles dismantled it, Earthfire True Flame scoured it clean, chaotic aura swallowed the remainder.

"My turn."

The words drifted through the domain as steady as slow rain, untouched by strain.

He raised his right hand, pressed index and middle fingers together, and leveled them toward Morven and Malcolm.

"Chaos Origin—Unification Finger."

At his fingertip, a pinprick of gray condensed so dense it seemed to swallow its own edges.

In that mote lurked the strength to birth worlds and the appetite to end them.

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