A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5420

Thastrum stood amid a tightening ring of demonic souls. The golden glow of his primordial spiritual energy—once a blazing beacon—now sputtered like a candle in a gale. Each punch he threw felt as if the very air had turned to lead, every motion dragging through invisible shackles that bled his strength.

Beside him, Half-Beast King Imorn wheezed and swayed. Deep gashes cut across the titan's fur-clad flesh, his pupils glassy with fatigue. Only a single, stubborn will kept the monarch upright—a vow not to fall until no breath remained to draw.

"We can't hold them any longer!" the beast race cultivator screamed, voice cracking under terror.

He hurled his battle-axe to the blood-soaked ground, spun, and bolted toward the rear lines, armor clattering like brittle tin.

His retreat lit a fuse of panic. The lone deserter became the match that ignited a wildfire of dread across the ranks.

One after another, cultivators broke formation. The battlefield transformed into a stampede of the desperate, each mind ruled not by honor but by the frantic need to live another moment.

"Hold your ground—d*mn it, hold! We still have a chance!" Rylan's throat strained raw as he bellowed, yet even he was tangled by a swarm of demonic souls, his spear strokes slower with every heartbeat.

Bound by the spectral tide, Rylan could only watch helplessly while men he had sworn to command scattered like birds before a storm.

The defense shattered. The Demonic Soul Army surged forward, black tide meeting broken levy. Screams split the smoke as more bodies fell, turning the earth into a slick crimson mire.

Aurelius stood amid the carnage, despair clawing at his chest. If this rout continued, everyone here would die, and level six itself would drown beneath the scourge of the demons.

The Ritual Manual... maybe that's the last light left to us.

Resolve hardened behind his eyes. From the folds of his tattered robe, he drew a small golden casket etched with intricate runes. A faint, sacred radiance seeped from its seams—the resting place of the Ritual Manual.

"Soul Devourer! Isn't this what you crave? Then come and claim it!" Aurelius lifted the casket high, his roar cutting clean through the bedlam.

The words rang like a bell. For an instant, the battlefield stilled, every gaze skewering the golden box in his grasp.

"Throw it here, mortal, or I tear the life from you now!" Soul Devourer hissed, greed flickering in those hollow, lightless sockets.

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