A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5423

With a fingertip as black as midnight ink, Soul Devourer traced the archaic grooves embossed on the Ritual Manual's lid. He whispered syllables older than kingdoms, and living shadows spiraled from his hand—coiling around the book, striking its golden glow like snakes against glass.

A sharp hiss—"zzz-zzz"—cut through the air. Pages fluttered on their own, then flared open. Lines of ancient script, each a narrow blade of light, burst forth and assembled in the sky as a single titanic sigil that radiated a suffocating, holy pressure.

"Shatter!"

His roar cracked across the gorge. He slammed the Ritual Manual against the boulder, palm first.

Golden scripture met the older sealing glyphs in an explosive collision. For one heartbeat, the two forces twisted together—then the whole of Celestia City quaked. Fissures ripped through the earth, and stone chips rattled down like hard rain.

The runes on the boulder warped, splintered, and died. Their frail light was devoured piece by piece by roiling black mist.

An instant later, a detonation—deeper than thunder—ripped through the canyon. The monolith disintegrated, revealing the lightless throat of the Netherworld Abyss.

A breath of air colder than grave-ice erupted from the pit. It carried a chorus of distant howls—restless, deranged, and older than memory—the voices of souls that had simmered in darkness for ten millennia.

Soul Devourer leaned forward, peering into the abyss. Suspended at its heart hovered a vast golden barrier, etched with primeval runes. Inside, countless ink-black phantoms slammed against the light, each collision dimming the shield by another shade.

"That is the true seal," he said, voice low, almost reverent.

Spathe—the elder standing to Soul Devourer's right—could not contain himself. "The founders of Celestia bled themselves dry to build that ward," he cried. "Break it, and every single demonic soul will be ours to command!"

Soul Devourer's answering chuckle was ice on metal. He lifted the Ritual Manual once more.

This time, he let the artifact off its leash. Blinding gold surged from its covers, spilling over the abyss like a newborn sun.

Hundreds of luminous characters tore free of the pages and streaked downward—each one a spear of written light aimed at the weakening shield.

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