A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5443

When the warship descended, Jared supported Onneas as they got off the vessel. Aurelius was the first to step forward. At the sight of the spiritual light bathing Onneas and the intimidating aura of the four Celestial Guards, Aurelius hurriedly bowed. "Greetings, Ms. Dusko. I'm Aurelius of Celestia. Your righteous intervention has pulled level six back from the brink of ruin. You have my eternal thanks!"

"Ms. Dusko!" dozens of voices echoed at once. Infinides, Yuliana, Artemis, and the other survivors bowed low as well, their eyes shining with feverish hope.

None of them had dared imagine Jared could really convince the overlord of Celestial King Palace—let alone arrive flanked by an escort strong enough to silence an army.

Yuliana hurried to Jared's side, her violet robes whispering around boot-tops as she inspected him for hidden wounds. Moisture trembled at her lashes. "You have no idea how close we were to losing sleep over you, Jared."

Jared gave her hand a light, reassuring pat. "With Ms. Dusko herself watching my back, what trouble could possibly cling to me?"

Onneas raised a palm, her tone as calm as moonlight on still water. "Enough pleasantries. Where is the Soul Devourer now?"

Aurelius straightened, voice tight with rage. "He has occupied Celestia, stripping every vault and storehouse to rebuild his peak strength."

"Then we strike for the throat." Onneas pivoted, long cloak snapping, and strode back up the gangway. "Aurelius, gather every surviving cultivator. Whoever still draws breath marches with me on the capital."

"At once!" Aurelius' answering shout rang like steel on a shield.

Signal flares streaked across the broken sky, and within a single day, ragged companies from every corner of level six converged on the floating fortress.

Barely ten thousand remained, yet each pair of eyes burned with an anger hot enough to brand the clouds.

As the last warrior set foot aboard, the living vessel groaned—then expanded, decks lengthening and masts sprouting like oaks to cradle the newfound weight.

Under the guard of three hundred Golden Armor Guards and the Quartet Celestial Guards, the ship surged toward darkened Celestia. In the gloom overhead, a pale band of dawn seemed to chase their keel.

The warship barged through layers of demonic aura. Demonic Cultivators rose from the wastes, only to be shorn apart by the Quartet Celestial Guards. Not a single enemy blade slowed their advance.

Jared stood at the fore-deck, the first outlines of the capital sharpening beneath the vessel's bow. Towers lay drowned in swirling black miasma, and distant screams clawed at the wind.

The severed heads of cultivators that had long hung as warnings were gone. In their place, ebony runes pulsed along the battlements, weaving a morbid lattice of power that draped the whole metropolis in deathly hush.

Inside the walls, avenues that had once bustled with trade lay deserted. From some dark alley, a scream would shiver forth—quick, brittle—and then the manic cackle of Demonic Cultivators answered, echoing off broken stone.

Homes and shopfronts, gnawed by demonic aura, leaned at grim angles. Black fractures jagged across every wall, threatening collapse with the next cruel gust.

Deeper still, within the Celestia Royal Palace, a spectacle fit for nightmares unfolded.

At the center of Harmony Hall, Soul Devourer hovered above the marble floor. A thousand twisting Soul Devouring Threads unfurled from his aura, anchoring him to row upon row of jet-black urns arranged like a macabre orchestra.

Within each vessel, pale soul-lights flickered, wailing in mute agony—the spirits of captured cultivators, their final terror trapped forever in glass.

Soul Devourer's form, once ghost-thin, now thickened with stolen vitality. Though still translucent, muscle and bone were beginning to knit, sculpting a body from raw despair.