The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6435

Venerable Emberlain descended slowly from the air, landed, and walked to Jared.

He stood over him from above, looking down at Jared's badly wounded body sprawled against the ground.

"There was no mercy in his eyes.

Only a still, unmoving emptiness."

"True Immortal Realm Level Three, yet you managed to possess two ancient divine arms. I suppose your fortune wasn't shallow."

"Too bad. Today is the day you die. No matter how fine divine arms are, you won't live long enough to enjoy them."

He slowly raised his hand, and golden saintfire gathered in his palm once more.

This time, it burned even hotter than before, wilder, more savage, carrying the force to burn everything clean.

He was preparing to end Jared's life with a single strike and bring this battle to its close.

Jared lay sprawled in the blood-soaked ruins, strength drained from every limb. Even the smallest movement came hard.

With effort, he lifted his head and looked toward Gwendolyn not far away.

She lay quietly on the ground, her breath faint, her white clothes stained red. She did not move.

The Frostbrand stood slanted beside her, its light gone dim.

"Go... hurry and go..." Jared's voice came out hoarse and broken, so faint it nearly vanished before it reached her.

He used the last of his strength to call to her in a low voice, every word dragging against what he could not let go and what he could never make right.

Gwendolyn forced her eyes open and looked toward him. At last, tears slid down her cheeks and soaked into the dust.

She tried to rise. She tried to shield him. She tried to stand beside him and fight one more time.

But her body no longer obeyed her. Her spiritual power had frozen solid, her meridians were badly damaged, and there was nothing left she could make answer.

She gave the slightest shake of her head. Her lips moved without sound, saying what her body could not carry any farther—she would not go. She would stay with him until the end.

Jared closed his eyes. When he opened them again, that refusal to yield had filled them from edge to edge, and something raw and burning pressed up from the bottom of him.

He could not accept losing like this. He could not accept dying like this.

He could not accept Freevale being destroyed here.

He could not accept his clansmen scattering in all directions, fleeing their homes and drifting with nowhere to belong. But what did that refusal change?

There was no power left to turn the sky back. Fate had already pressed down beyond what could be broken.

The dragon of golden saintfire had already taken shape. With a roar, it plunged from above and charged straight at Jared.

Death was right in front of him.

In that dead-end moment, Gwendolyn drew out one final thread of nascence strength from somewhere unseen.

She slammed her hands against the ground and forced herself up, then staggered forward in a desperate lunge.

The Frostbrand cut out with everything she had left, and an ice-blue blade-flare forced itself into the path of the fire dragon.

The blade-flare severed half the fire dragon outright, but it no longer had the strength to stop the remaining blaze.

Golden saintfire swallowed Gwendolyn's body in an instant.

Her white clothes caught fire. The panoply shattered. The frost energy scattered into nothing.

The flame wrapped around her whole body and blasted her away. She hit the ground hard, then went silent, motionless.

"Gwendolyn—!!!"

The roar tore out of Jared as if it had ripped through his chest. It split the open sky and carried everything in him that had just been broken.

His eyes turned blood-red in an instant, and the sight before him drove a storm through him that no body should have been able to contain.

He threw everything away and burned all of his blood essence, the spirit, and his nascence lifespan.

By force, he reversed his meridians and ignited the spirit-well maelstrom of chaos.

Around Jared, the chaos-flame changed in an instant, purple burning down into black. The power turned savage, thick with a kind of horror that pressed against the battlefield.

His aura climbed without stopping—the third tier, the fourth tier, Level Five, Level Six...

It kept tearing upward until it reached the peak of Top Level True Immortal Realm Level Six, and only then did it barely come to a halt.

It was the last flare before the lamp went out. He was burning through his life for a brief, stolen rise in battle strength.

The price waited on the other side of the fight: his flesh and the spirit would both break apart completely. Death had already been written into the bargain.

Jared ignored the tearing pain as his body split. He forced his hands against the ground and dragged himself upright.

Black Chaotic True Flame wrapped around the Dragonslayer Sword, and Jared took one step forward.

He cut against the tide straight at Venerable Emberlain, staking life against life, ready to drag them both into the grave.

Venerable Emberlain's brow tightened by the slightest degree. That last charge had drawn a flicker of notice from him.

"Burning your nascence for one final gamble? You do have some backbone. Too bad it still changes nothing."

"Sword and fire crashed together.

For a short moment, the black flame swallowed the golden saintfire, and the two powers locked in a brutal stalemate."

But the gap in level could not be crossed by will alone. Golden Immortal Law bore down and crushed the nascence beneath it.

The black flame was driven back at speed. Retributive backlash force swept over Jared from head to toe.

Venerable Frostgrave saw it happen and refused to let the fight drag on. He took the opening and struck.

A streak of silver cold at its absolute limit slammed into Jared's body.

Jared froze in place at once. Fine cracks spread across his skin, dense as a web.

Golden blood seeped from those cracks. His flesh split open, and the pain dug all the way into the bone.

He clenched his teeth and bore the agony of his body coming apart. Without sparing a thought for life or death, he swung again, cleaving toward Venerable Frostgrave.

He went to his death with nothing held back.

Venerable Frostgrave's gaze turned cold. He lifted a hand and sent a palm strike forward.

Silver cold gathered into a giant palm and smashed hard into Jared's chest.

Jared flew like a kite with its string cut, then crashed heavily into a deep pit.

Every bone seemed shattered. His flesh was a ruin of blood, his left arm broken, his right leg snapped.

A gaping hole punched clean through his chest. He lay at the edge of the end, with only one last ragged thread of breath left in him.

He lay at the bottom of the pit and looked up at the dim sky.

The clouds had broken apart. The daylight spilling through them looked sickly white.

Countless shadowing figures flashed through his mind.

Family and friends passed before him. His clansmen followed, then the companions who had once fought shoulder to shoulder with him.

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