With Time Reversal shattered, the giant’s fist, still colossal in power, was suddenly riddled with openings. Jared had been waiting for one crack, and now the sky showed nothing but daylight.
Inside the bubble of Time Acceleration, his thoughts and sinews reached their absolute peak. Even as his left hand withdrew, the Dragonslayer Sword in his right hand flashed into a streak that ripped the very skin of the void.
“Sever!” No radiant arc followed, no thunderous boom. Only a single slash, so condensed it devoured the surrounding light, etched a line of midnight across existence.
It slid along the awkward seam where the giant’s old power had faded and new strength had yet to rise, appearing and vanishing within a heartbeat.
Fast. Faster than language, faster than sight, faster even than divine perception!
It was a killing stroke born inside the womb of accelerated time, a blow that left the realm of measurement behind!
The giant’s massive frame lurched to a halt, as though some unseen wall had slammed into his charging bulk. He hung there, fist frozen mid-strike, while his dazed gaze drifted downward in search of an explanation his muscles no longer offered.
Against the torchlit gloom, a razor-thin red fissure surfaced, beginning at his left shoulder and carving a slow, merciless path toward his right flank.
The bronze armor encasing him, once proud and impregnable, seemed to age a thousand years in a heartbeat. It split along that line with a whisper, the edges polished smooth as mirror glass.
The storm of power raging inside him collapsed, deflating like a punctured bellows. The flames behind his eyes guttered out, leaving only bewilderment and an expanding void.
“T-Time… How can…” the giant rasped, each syllable shredded by disbelief.
The very next heartbeat shattered the moment. A wet, rending crack ripped through the hall like lightning, tearing open the night.
His body parted cleanly along the crimson seam, two perfect halves sliding away from each other in almost reluctant grace. Blood erupted in a feral geyser, entrails slapping stone with obscene finality.
Both halves of his body hit the floor in a dull, bone-deep boom, stirring choking clouds of dust. Thus fell the enigmatic warrior who had wielded the very essence of time at the Soul Devourer’s command.
Jared ended him with a single, almost casual stroke.
The spectacle flashed by quicker than memory could anchor, lightning between clouds, already gone before eyes could truly register.
From the giant’s first roar of rage to Jared’s languid riposte, everything unfolded so swiftly that conscious thought lagged behind by entire heartbeats.
Silence reclaimed the grand hall. Yet this hush no longer reeked of doom; it vibrated with stunned wonder, the very air quivering around a truth too vast to voice.
Shock collided with exultation, leaving hearts unsure whether to shriek or sing.
Every eye locked on the young man covered in blood, standing alone amid rubble and gore, sword lowered yet unbowed.
Blood darkened the folds of his robe, his face blanched with fatigue, and his breathing hitched. Even so, he seemed to tower like a mountain shouldering the heavens, blazing with a light none dared meet head-on.
“Won… We won?” a disciple of the Nethergate Sect whispered, voice quavering, tears edging the words.
“Mr. Chance just slew that monster!” another cried, pitch cracking with raw delight.
“Hail Mr. Chance! Mighty and unmatched!” a third roared.
“The Nethergate Sect is saved!” countless throats chorused.
The fragile quiet detonated into a tidal wave of jubilation, cheers battering the vaulted ceiling like rolling surf. Survivors, drunk on being alive and awed by Jared’s strength, spiraled into wild, worshipful frenzy.
Neville exhaled a long, rattling breath, the taut wire of tension in his spine finally snapping slack. Only then did he notice his back was soaked with cold sweat.
He stared at Jared, gratitude, relief, and something harder to name swirling behind his eyes.
I gambled everything on him, and I won…
Long before the mysterious backer rumored to stand behind Jared ever stepped into the light, the young man’s own power had already risen to a level that made seasoned cultivators tremble. Tonight, that truth unfurled like thunder, rattling every heart inside the marble hall.
Across the chamber, Sylvia’s blood-drained cheeks warmed with a sudden flush. She could not tear her gaze from Jared’s silhouette, its outline gleaming beneath the fractured torchlight.
Colors rippled through her wide eyes, and her heart, usually calm as snow, pounded against her ribs without permission.
On the throne, the Soul Devourer sat immobile, his face so dark it seemed to drip ink. He rose, inch by deliberate inch, and the demonic aura coiling around him erupted into a gale of black tempest.
A pressure far crueler than anything felt before descended, formless yet as heavy as a mountain, crushing every last cheer into choking silence in a single breath.
His stare skewered Jared, and when he spoke, the words drifted through the hall like shards of frozen steel, cold as the Ninefold Hells themselves.
“Good. Great! Time and again, boy, you have managed to surprise me… It appears I must crush you with my own hands…”
Only now did the true calamity descend. The Soul Devourer was about to strike.
