The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5643

Though blood streaked his torn tunic, Jared stood tall with the Dragonslayer Sword resting in his grasp. Only the faint trembling in his knees betrayed the toll of his wounds.

"Hold fast, Jared. I will guard your flank," Sylvia said, noticing the tremor.

"No—this time we fight shoulder to shoulder."

"I'm not letting you shoulder this alone," Jared said, giving his head a firm shake, his tone a quiet promise that cut through the roar of the gorge.

The moment the words left him, he dragged a breath so deep it rattled his cracked ribs. Pain flashed like lightning behind his eyes, yet he forced it down, summoned his technique, and let fresh waves of celestial energy spill from his battered frame. Each surge was weaker than Sylvia's, but the iron in his will felt unbreakable, a steady drum that refused to fall silent even in the face of ruin.

Across the shattered ground, Winston watched them both. A flicker of contempt danced in his gaze, as though he were examining two insects that had mistaken themselves for titans.

"The two of you think you can stand against me?" His voice rolled across Death Gorge with lazy amusement. "How delightfully naïve."

"We'll see who's naïve once blades speak," Sylvia answered, her words cold enough to frost stone.

She vanished between blinks—one heartbeat she was beside Jared, the next she burst into existence inches from Winston, hands weaving an intricate seal. A torrent of luminous power erupted forward, a spear of pure celestial force aimed straight for the man's chest.

"Good—come at me!" Winston barked, lips curling in savage anticipation.

Golden light flared around his fingers as he mirrored her seal. Twin beams—one silver-white, the other molten gold—clashed midair. Boom! The collision detonated like a thunderclap inside a cathedral. Death Gorge quaked beneath the impact; cliffs shuddered, boulders burst into chalky powder, and the earth sank under their feet, leaving a crater large enough to swallow cottages.

Sylvia staggered back three full paces before regaining her footing. Winston didn't so much as sway; he stood there, smug and motionless, his superiority carved across his features.

"You're outmatched, Ms. Vale," he said, soft as a dagger sliding home. "Step aside while you still can, or don't blame me for the brutality that follows."

"If you want Jared, you'll have to cross my corpse first," Sylvia replied, steel in every syllable.

Before the echo of her vow had fled, Jared moved. Sword in hand, he blurred—pure lightning in human form—reappearing behind Winston. The blade thrust forward, hungry for the spine it sought.

"Child's play," Winston scoffed.

He angled his torso with effortless grace, letting the sword whistle past empty air.

"Fast, yes," he noted, eyes narrowing with bored appreciation, "but not nearly fast enough."

Boom! Winston's palm slammed into the barrier, unleashing another concussive blast. Spiderweb fractures raced across the shield, each line a scream of strain, yet the construct held—barely—its glow flickering like a candle in gale-force wind.

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