The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5456

"For pity's sake, would you quit howling like somebody died? I'm still here—mostly. A sliver of my soul lingers, that's all. Even if I claw my way to level nine, this wisp will never regrow a body."

The words drifted out of Jared's consciousness field, raw and rasping, like embers refusing to dim.

A ripple of crimson light flickered behind Jared's eyes—the unmistakable timbre of the Vermilion Demon Lord, sardonic yet barely alive.

Tears clung to Jared's lashes. He scrubbed them away and blurted, "Mr. Vermilion, if you can't take shape again, just stay inside my consciousness field forever. I don't mind, really."

"Spare me." A dry chuckle echoed, rich with mock disgust. "You chase women every waking hour. I'd be forced to watch your antics in perpetual close-up. I'd sooner fade to dust."

Color flared across Jared's cheeks. He coughed, desperate for escape. "So... uh... why've you been silent all this time? I feared something horrible had happened."

"Blame the Malevolent Path Hall," Vermilion Demon Lord sneered. "Those ghouls smell stray spirits a continent away. If I'd shown myself, they'd hound you night and day—maybe stew my essence into some cursed pill. Don't underestimate them. No one knows where their headquarters are. Even ten thousand years ago, their shadow stretched through every realm of the Heavens."

The warning thudded through Jared's skull, each syllable heavy as falling stone.

"Seriously? They're that insane?" Jared muttered, brows knitting.

"Talking tires what little soul I've left. Another sentence and I'll disperse for good."

Silence—absolute, chilling—settled in Jared's mind. The crimson glow winked out.

He drew a steadying breath, locked his emotions away, and pushed into the wilderness, determined to find Onneas, Violet, and the others.

At Celestia City, far above the jade roofs, the Soul Devourer stood on the palace spire, a dark monarch surveying prey. His flesh was fully knit; power had surged back to eight-tenths of its ancient peak. A few more days, and even level nine would tremble before him.

"Level six will belong to me soon enough," he whispered, greed gleaming in his eyes. "That boy—and every fugitive who ran—none of them escape my net!"

He turned, long cloak whipping like a black tide, and strode into the palace depths. First, restore perfect strength. Next, conquer all of level six—and then push higher, until new heavens cracked.

Each of them knew with chilling clarity that, had the Vermilion Demon Lord not bled himself into the fight, their bones would already be whitening inside Celestia City's ruined streets.

Jared drew a breath, steadied his voice, and asked, "How badly are all of you hurt?"

Faces paled; even the bravest among them looked away, as though shame itself were another open wound.

Aurelius managed a crooked smile that never reached his eyes. "Truth is, we're in rough shape—every one of us."

He let the smile fall. "Especially Ms. Dusko. She took the worst of it covering our retreat."

Jared's gaze tracked to Onneas. Her skin, usually moon-bright, had faded to the color of old parchment, and her breath came in tremors she could no longer hide.

"Ms. Dusko, are you sure you're all right?" Jared asked, concern carving new lines across his brow.