A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5979

Yes, the Chaos Source Seed had flooded him with raw strength, but wielding it felt like swinging a sword while blindfolded.

Across from him stood an ancient who forged the sword, named every angle, and knew exactly where to cut.

A child, no matter how fine the weapon, could never outfight a seasoned warrior.

He heard his own ragged breath echo inside the collapsing sphere of his mind. This could not drag on. A hard glint burned behind his eyes—no retreat left. Fine. All in.

His awareness plunged into the furnace hidden behind his navel.

There, the Chaos Star whirled so violently that hair-line cracks raced across its molten surface.

He forced it to cough up raw origin power, a forbidden draw the Primal Unity Refinement Tome warned him never to attempt at his current level.

And then—

"Enough. Your strength pleases me. You may yet earn the rank of my highest Reincarnation Envoy." The giant phantom withdrew its hand, and every crushing assault vanished with it.

Relief did not feel like relief—just the shock of noticing he was still upright, if bleeding from places he could not name.

The Chaotic Domain recoiled into his body, leaving him swaying over a pool of his own red.

"First, you will taste what true Reincarnation torment means," the Lord said, the warmth in his timbre freezing away.

"Only after that will you comprehend how foolish your defiance has been."

The phantom hand stretched toward him, fingers splaying wider than city gates.

In its palm a gray-white whirlpool turned, slow, patient, and so ancient his soul flinched before thought could form.

That has to be the naked source of the Reincarnation law, he realized, dread eating the edges of reason.

"Endure the cycles. After one hundred lifetimes, when you have sampled every sorrow and forgotten who you were, I will fetch you back and clothe you in new purpose—as my obedient servant."

The whirlpool drifted from his palm and glided toward Jared like a ghost lantern, silent and inexorable.

Jared strained to step aside, to raise a finger, anything, but invisible shackles pinned every joint.

The last sparks of chaotic force were ashes; the wounds in his spirit pulsed open, refusing to answer his call.

He could only watch as the gray-white spiral touched his forehead and seeped inward like winter water into cracked stone.

Cold.

Unending, marrow-deep cold.

Then darkness.

Total, swallowing darkness.

His awareness fluttered like the last wick of a storm-beaten candle, wavered, and finally went out.

"One century from now," the distant voice whispered through the void, "we meet again. By then you will understand what fate truly is."

The final shard of light blinked out.

He tumbled into a black so total that even the idea of his own body slipped away, leaving only Jared’s small, startled breath echoing inside his chest.

When the silence settled, it felt ancient, as though the Reincarnation Realm had closed a colossal door and was content never to open it again.

A lone smear of gray-white light floated ahead; faces drifted inside it, surfacing then sinking, while a half-formed, trembling visage began to stitch itself together at the core.

"Sandy… please… just open the door…" The plea seeped from Jared’s cracked lips and hung in the night air, thin as steam from cooling tea.

He stood on the stoop outside her apartment, shoulders shaking every time he hammered the wood; his bruised knuckles throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, but he kept calling.

The lock clicked; Bella, Sandy’s mother, burst out and drove her heel into his shin.

"You convict, vanish. My girl is marrying Leyton and nothing will stain her day."

"No… it can’t be," Jared whispered, shaking his head so hard his vision blurred, as though reality might fall off like loose dust.

Sandy stepped onto the porch in a white dress that felt to Jared like a funeral shroud.

She flung several crumpled bills; they slapped his face before falling to the concrete. "Leave. Of course I’m marrying Leyton."

"Betray me and see what the Dragonslayer Sword can do," Jared growled, fire skating across his eyes as he raised a trembling hand.

He sliced the air, waiting for cold steel and roaring power. Nothing came. Only the embarrassed whisper of his own sleeve.

Engines blared; a ribbon of bridal cars rolled up, chrome glinting under early sunlight.

The lead door swung open and Leyton strode out in a tailored suit, pointing at Jared. "Are you trying to ruin my wedding, you useless bastard?"

Jared’s stare sharpened until Leyton flinched; venom coated every word. "Leyton, swear you’ll—"

"I swear I don’t. Put him down." Leyton flicked his wrist, and the bodyguards closed in.

The first fist drove into Jared’s ribs, then a boot caught his cheek; pain bloomed, wet and metallic, before he even hit the pavement.

With a wounded grunt he swung back. "Holy Light Fist!"

His knuckles crashed into a guard’s stomach, folding the man over with a startled wheeze.

"You son of a— still fighting?"

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