A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5718

"Coall, take the Draconian army. Strip this battlefield to the bone—every corpse, every vault, every glimmer of treasure. Search Bonewither Cliff from rim to roots. Leave no survivor, seize every storage ring, and scour the altar for anything tied to the Soul Devourer—scrolls, communication devices, message arrays. Miss even a cobweb and I will know."

Mercy had no place here. Surrendered or not, Skyfiend disciples died the same, and their rings fed the war chest Jared needed to keep tens of thousands of scaled soldiers marching.

If resources ran short, he would lead the army across level nine and harvest what the weak failed to defend. Survival, after all, favored the ruthless—unless one bowed as sincerely as Neville had.

"Understood, Mr. Chance!" Coall's cavernous voice rattled loose dust from nearby skulls.

Roaring with draconic delight, Coall launched the plundering sweep. To a Draconian, hoarding glittering relics and sniffing out buried secrets was less a duty than a blood-etched instinct.

Jared settled cross-legged beside the grotesque skull altar. Part of his mind steered the tower, distilling Elder Bonewick's soul into usable fragments. The rest slipped like liquid light through every rune carved in the altar, hunting for the faintest trace—coordinates, a shadow, a breath—left by the Soul Devourer's wandering remnant.

Toppling Skyfiend Sect was only the opening move. The true game lay in dragging the ancient, conniving Soul Devourer from whatever abyss he used as a burrow and ending him forever.

So long as that monster breathed, he would return—perhaps the moment Jared stepped beyond level nine, perhaps when the realms least expected—and an awakened Soul Devourer would be unstoppable.

Worse, Jared knew the fiend's first act after full recovery would be to hound him across higher worlds, turning every sunrise into a fresh hunt.

He understood all too well that a monster like Soul Devourer could drift through level ten—level eleven—without meeting a hint of resistance, as effortlessly as a hawk gliding on summer thermals.

Therefore, Jared had to end the creature here on level nine. If he allowed that monster to rise any higher, it would hang over him forever like a sword poised above his throat.

The trail he needed lay hidden in this wasteland—inside the plundered memories of Elder Bonewick and deep within the altar's secret hollows.

Far across the debris field, the Draconian army worked methodically, their colossal, armored bodies weaving between toppled columns while they swept the battlefield clean.

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