A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5994

The giant’s eyes bulged, every swallow of wine inside him turning to icy sweat that slicked his skin.

He felt the man's core flare, a desperate swell of raw power trying to tear free. Jared pressed his palm harder. Heatless darkness slid from his fingertips, slipped under bone and tendon, and clamped every channel shut.

Muscles that had just bunched for a counter-strike sagged at once. The captive's eyes bulged, yet not even a finger twitched. Jared watched him stare into the gloom where Jared's outline slowly resolved, helpless to do anything but watch.

He let the half-light touch his face. He knew the effect: a young, unlined mask, eyes cold enough to scrape frost from stone. The contradiction always unsettled people, and tonight he needed the terror sharp.

"W-who… who are you?" The words rasped out of the big man's throat like rust scraped off iron. He gave no answer, letting the question hang, brittle and useless.

Jared leaned in until his breath stirred the man's matted hair. The alley smelled of damp stone and panic. "A month ago, Soulfall Slope. A man and a woman died there. Was that your work?"

He went rigid, as though the name of the place had turned his spine to glass. Disbelief flickered, drowned immediately by a darker, widening dread.

Jared noted the flicker of recognition—good, the man understood exactly why this visit had come. Direct, unavoidable, and—judging by the way sweat sprang through pores—the most horrifying confrontation the brute had ever faced.

He tried to shake his head but found even falsehood too heavy; at last he managed a jerky nod.

"Whose order? Julian’s? Or Quentin’s?" His voice stayed flat, each name dropped like a stone into still water.

"M-Mr. Fay… he carried the City Lord’s writ… my brothers and I… we only carried it out…" The confession scraped out in uneven gasps; the lack of air was already painting his lips a bruised blue.

Jared tightened his fingers, just enough for the man to feel how close the doorway to oblivion now stood. "Did they say anything before the end?"

"N-no… the formation cut all sound… they only glared at Mr. Fay… so angry…"

The freezing pressure reached his very soul; panic spilled past cracked composure. "I… I only followed orders, spare—"

A sound like thin ice snapping under a boot whispered between them. Light left the man’s eyes in a single pulse. The chaotic force rushed through marrow and mind alike, scrubbing every trace of life clean.

Jared opened his hand. The heavy body slumped, then sagged into dust, clothing and all, swept apart by the same wind that crawled through the alley.

Silence closed over the narrow passage again, as though nothing had ever disturbed its darkness.

What others called High Immortal Realm Level Four felt, to Jared, like the simple, dull work of splitting kindling.

He stood where the street dropped into shadow, night folding over his steady face.

The first.

He raised his chin toward the city lord mansion, its blazing windows crowning Jade Immortal City with borrowed daylight.

Past the glare, his gaze speared the western annex—a tight, stone-walled compound the guards called the Executioners’ Quarters.

Fewer lamps burned there, leaving the buildings to exhale a cold, metallic hush.

Lyza’s last report said Miles, elder brother to Garth, held tonight’s watch.

Garth’s blood had merely opened the account.

Miles would settle it.

Neither butcher deserved dawn after what they did to Mr. Morse and his wife.

Jared slipped back into the dark, skating along tiled roofs and narrow alleys so quickly even the air failed to stir.

Every muscle answered him the way silk answers wind.

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