A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6546

"This time, three."

Jared drew the Dragonslayer Sword.

Violet chaos-flame rolled slowly along the blade, warping the air around it with heat.

"Last time it was two. This time it's three." Gwendolyn drew her longsword too, cold silver light flashing hard along the blade. "The celestials really do get more generous every time."

"Not generous. Arrogant."

Jared's gaze passed over the golden motes racing closer and settled on a patch of warped space even farther off.

The spiritual essence there moved differently from everything around it, faintly twisting into a half-transparent vortex.

At the center, something flickered with a weak golden glow.

"Someone's watching us from over there,"

he said quietly. "Not very strong. Golden Immortal Level Three. But she's carrying some kind of arcane implement that blocks spirit sense. She's not one of the celestials, and she's not from the Aureate Way either."

Gwendolyn followed his line of sight and saw nothing.

Still, she trusted Jared's judgment.

"Do we deal with her?"

"Not yet." Jared pulled his gaze back and locked onto the golden motes that had already closed to within 300 miles. "Let's deal with these first."

300 miles.

200 miles.

100 miles.

The golden motes swelled, sharpened, resolved.

Three figures in front. Thirty smaller ones behind. Every one of them burned with golden saintlight flame, like 33 fallen meteors tearing across the dark red wasteland.

The one in the lead dwarfed the others, built like a moving iron tower.

Saintlight flame had condensed over his body into solid armor, its surface flowing with dense war sigils.

He stopped 30 miles from Jared.

Behind him, the other 32 golden lights halted at the same instant, spreading into a fan-shaped battle formation that sealed off every route of retreat for Jared and Gwendolyn.

30 miles.

For Golden Immortal cultivators, that kind of distance was no different than standing face-to-face.

Emberbane looked down from above at the young man and woman standing on the dark red sand, a flash of contempt passing through his red-gold eyes.

True Immortal Realm Level Eight. True Immortal Realm Level Nine.

These two ants were the ones who had killed Elliot and cut off one of Hadrian Ember's arms?

"You're Jared?" His voice rolled across the wasteland like muffled thunder.

Jared lifted his head, and his violet eyes met Emberbane's red-gold stare.

He said nothing.

He only tipped his chin up a fraction, as if that alone was answer enough.

Garrick's brow tightened.

He'd seen plenty of arrogant young fools in his time.

He'd never seen one dare face him like this.

Even a Golden Immortal Level One showed him proper respect.

What gave a True Immortal Realm Level Eight whelp the right?

"The Court Master gave an order," Garrick said, impatience creeping into his voice. "Alive, we bring you in. Dead, we bring back your body. So what's it going to be? Do you come with us, or do we make you?"

Jared still didn't answer.

He simply brought the Dragonslayer Sword across his body.

The violet chaos-flame running along the blade surged higher in a violent rush, and every lick of it burned against the surrounding holy radiance with a savage hiss.

Garrick's pupils contracted.

He felt it instantly—that power utterly opposed to holy radiance.

Worse, it suppressed it.

Chaotic force.

Not a legend.

Not some crooked side path.

The real thing.

"Move!"

Garrick wasted no more words.

He shot forward, a war-glaive blazing with golden saintfire condensing in his hand as he moved, then brought it down on Jared with enough force to split a mountain in half.

Vaughn lunged in from the left at the same instant Silas struck from the right.

Vaughn wielded twin blades wreathed in dark red judgment flame—the Punishment Hall's torture fire, meant to burn not just flesh, but the soul itself.

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