A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5393

In Northern Frontier's Rose Cloud Sect, the sect leader brandished Aurelius' scroll before the elders.

"Celestia has fallen, and demonic souls are wreaking havoc. If we continue to turn a blind eye, we will be the next to fall. Ready every disciple. We will head toward Roaring Storm Church!"

In Western Frontier's Myriad Beast Valley, Talon, too, was reading the scroll.

The fur along his arms bristled as his amber eyes narrowed. "The demons have always been brutally ambitious. If level six falls into their claws, every beast race will be at their mercy. Inform every tribe leader to bring their elites to Roaring Storm Church. It's time to fight together against the demonic souls!"

Across the shadow-drenched Dark Forest, beast race cultivators who had fled in panic only hours before now raced back together, feet thudding through fallen leaves like distant drums.

One massive bear beast cultivator clenched calloused fists, his breath smoking in the cold air. "Celestial is already done for, and we can't keep running away," he roared. "It'd be better to follow King Aurelius and tear the demonic souls apart!"

A chorus of war cries answered him, and the horde thundered toward Roaring Storm Church, every stride cracking branches like fireworks.

Other human sects and beast tribes—some former rivals of Celestia, others stubbornly neutral—read the summons, weighed survival against pride, and decided to march as well.

Within a single day, various forces and tribes arrived in ragged waves before the weather-scarred steps of Roaring Storm Church.

Where ruins had yawned empty days ago, one hundred thousand bodies now crowded the broken courtyard, armor glinting like scales beneath a storm-gray sky.

Human cultivators wore every shade of robe, each gripping a different shining tool of war. Beside them, beast race cultivators stood in countless forms, their auras rough as mountain wind. Despite the mismatched shapes, one steel certainty burned behind every gaze: fight for home or be erased.

High atop a shattered balcony, Aurelius surveyed the sea of faces, and warmth, unexpected as spring in winter, welled behind his stern breastplate.

"Friends and allies! The demonic souls have escaped, drowning our land in grief. Celestia City lies in rubble, and countless brothers and sisters are dead. We have gathered here today to guard level six and to avenge our fallen kin with our blades. I, Aurelius, swear to stand beside you until the last demonic soul is suppressed!"

Slaughter the demonic souls and avenge the fallen!

Soul Devourer snorted, the sound like iron scraping stone. "Useless vermin! You can't even break a seal!"

He struck the glowing seal with one clawed palm, causing golden currents to ripple and tremble, but the seal held strong.

Stebarin, who stood nearby, whispered cautiously, "My Lord, this seal is the same as the one at Roaring Storm Church. The church's seal only loosened because the Roaring Storm Bell was gone, but the statues guarding the seal here remain at Celestia City. Without the Ritual Manual, we cannot prize it open as we did at Roaring Storm Church. Celestia has fallen, yet Aurelius has vanished into thin air. My guess is he has gone into hiding. Why don't we flush him from whatever hole he's cowering in and force him to surrender the Ritual Manual? That way, our victory will be certain."

"That's a sound proposal. Aurelius is the king of Celestial, so he won't give up that easily," Soul Devourer murmured, twin specks of scarlet kindling inside the hollow pits where his eyes once lived. The air curdled with restrained hunger.

"Relay my orders! Every demonic soul and Demonic Cultivator is to hunt Aurelius down. If he offers up the Ritual Manual, I will spare his life. If he refuses, drown the entire Celestia in blood!"

"Yes, My Lord!" tens of thousands roared, their devotion echoing like iron chains across the broken city.

Moments later, the Demonic Soul Army gathered with scores of Demonic Cultivators, swelling into a black legion—a tide of night poised to erase daylight itself.