A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5682

Without warning, an indescribable presence flooded the ravaged valley.

At first, it felt languid, almost drowsy, nothing like the tyrannical aura of the Soul Devourer. Yet its arrival felt inevitable, as though it had always filled every inch of sky, finally noticed only now.

Above, the swirling cloud of wailing spirits rippled like water struck by stone. The howling wind fell silent, as if an unseen palm pressed it flat.

An aging figure materialized on the rim of the crater, stepping between Jared and Sylvia in utter silence.

His robe was plain, even threadbare, his hair loose and unkempt—Zevon Swanson, and no other.

He had not torn the sky, nor shattered mountains. He simply arrived, like a passerby who happened upon catastrophe and decided, at last, to intervene.

The moment his boots touched the cracked flagstones, the howling black hand that could have flattened even a Heavenly Immortal froze in mid-descent, fingers splayed, unable to drop another inch.

Invisible force shimmered between that claw and the crater below, forming a silent wall that separated predator from prey.

High overhead, the roiling clouds of demonic vapor dimmed. The lazy sneer on Soul Devourer's face vanished, replaced by a tight, measuring stare.

His pupils narrowed to slits as he studied the newcomer—Zevon—and for the first time felt an aura equal to his own, perhaps deeper, older, far more unfathomable.

"So," the Soul Devourer said, voice low and cold, "someone worth my time finally shows up."

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