Blaine threw back his head and let out a bestial howl. “Disciples of Myriad Beast Valley! Counterattack!” A deafening roar answered, shaking stone and marrow alike. The Three-Headed Flame Lion King burst through the barrier first; each of its crowns exhaled a different doom—scorching fire, biting frost, crackling lightning—erasing a swath of Soul Hunters in a single bound.
An Ironback Earth Dragon erupted from beneath the battlefield, its mountain-sized body plowing through enemy formations, scattering them like matchsticks. Overhead, flocks of Thunderwing Golden Eagles stooped from the clouds, rainstorms of gilded lightning showering from their wings. Thus began Myriad Beast Valley’s ferocious counteroffensive.
At the heart of the maelstrom, Jared and the Soul-Devouring Puppet traded blows with a fury unmatched anywhere on the field. Every clash between gray spear and Dragonslayer Sword unleashed shockwaves of law, rippling outward to warp air, earth, and the very rules that governed both.
The Soul-Devouring Puppet fought with the merciless precision of a machine stripped of memory and mercy. Every thrust, sweep, and feint carved straight toward Jared’s heart or throat, its six wings shearing the air like surgical blades. Yet an undercurrent of Jared’s chaotic celestial energy flooded the ruined clearing, dampening the puppet’s gray whirl of reincarnation aura and stealing just a shade of its momentum.
As the exchange lengthened, Jared began to read a pattern in the storm—perfect, yes, but looped like a flawless yet predictable string of code. That’s it! If I can see the sequence, I can shatter it!
“Chaos Evolution! Earthfire True Flame!”
Scarlet-gold fire, molten and alive, blossomed along the Dragonslayer Sword’s edge. Threads of hazy gray chaos curled inside the blaze, turning the sword into a roaring comet. The next second, Jared lunged. The Soul-Devouring Puppet snapped its spear across the blow, yet the earth fire clung to the metal, raced along the shaft, and licked across the reincarnation runes etched into its armor, searing ash-white sigils into black.
For a single heartbeat, the puppet staggered—no more than the stutter of a clockwork gear, but that sliver was all Jared needed.
“Dragonslayer! Armybreaker!” A dragon-shaped arc of light burst from the blade and punched toward the narrow seam between the puppet’s chest plates. The strike struck home with a wet crack. Gray-white scales split, steel slid three inches into synthetic flesh. Dark blood, maroon with swirling motes of ash, spattered across the shattered flagstones.
The Soul-Devouring Puppet lowered its gaze to the sparking wound. Whorls inside its colorless eyes spun faster, but not a tremor of pain or fear touched its face. Instead of retreating, it darted forward. Its left hand curled into claws and raked at Jared’s face, choosing a trade of flesh for flesh, programmed for murder above survival.
Jared whipped his blade free and sprang back, yet the passing claws shredded his tunic and plowed five bloody tracks across his chest. He spat a mouthful of blood, his stare sharpening to ice.
“You’re a puppet, all right,” he muttered, voice low. “No pain, no fear… Only the command to kill.”
Enemies like that were always the hardest to bury.
Across the battlefield, Vermilion Demon Lord had already forced the hulking Soul-Subduing Puppet General to its knees. Thousands of razor-thin threads of demonic flame snared each joint, then one obsidian knife fell—severing the metal head with a hiss of steam. Nearby, Gerald was even swifter. Nine serpentine fire dragons coiled around the gaunt elder and his bone banner. An auric lotus detonated, and both master and relic dissolved into gray dust.
With their two puppet generals and resident elder defeated, the Soul Hunter Army’s perfect ranks buckled, panic rippling through gray-cloak after gray-cloak. Winslow and Leopold pierced that wobbling front like twin arrows, while the beast horde of Myriad Beast Valley poured after them, a flood of claws, horns, and fury that smashed the enemy line to pieces.
The Soul-Devouring Puppet swept the ruin with calculating eyes, streams of numbers flickering across each iris. Then, without hesitation, it pivoted. Six wings snapped wide, and the figure streaked skyward as a gray comet fleeing the carnage.
“Going somewhere?” Jared growled.
He gathered himself to pursue, but Gerald stepped into his path, palm lifted in silent warning. “Never chase a cornered beast, Jared… If that thing wishes only to flee, you will not catch it. Besides, take a look at yourself,” Gerald said as his gaze dropped to the fresh, bloody grooves across Jared’s ribs. “You’re pretty badly injured. Tend to your wounds first. For now, the fight can wait.”
Jared watched the gray streak vanish beyond the clouds, his hand squeezing the Dragonslayer Sword’s hilt until his knuckles whitened. This was merely a test. Next time, one of us will not leave the field alive…
In a mere hour, the din of war faded. Thick smoke peeled away from the shattered ridges, and scavenging winds carried the last embers into a gray-pink dawn. Of the five thousand Soul Hunters who had stormed the valley, more than three thousand lay dead. The rest fled in ragged clusters.
Myriad Beast Valley paid dearly as well; hundreds of beastmasters had fallen, over a thousand demon beasts lay cold, and the valley-guarding grand array hung in tatters. Yet for all the blood and broken stones, the battle was won.
On the jagged Beastbone Platform, Blaine strode toward Jared. His frame, raw muscle draped in battle-torn hides, rose like a walking cliff. He studied Jared for a breath, then bent low in salute. “You saved our lives, young man… I, Blaine Leedon, shall never forget your help. Please forgive my previous negligence!”
Jared returned the gesture. “Don’t mention it, Mr. Leedon. Malevolent Path Hall threatens every living sect. Standing together against a common enemy is simply the right thing to do.”
Blaine straightened, his crimson hair whipping in the breeze. “Go on, then… Speak your purpose. Surely you did not march into our siege only for heroics. If Myriad Beast Valley can help, so long as honor is served, I will not refuse.”
Jared glanced at Winslow, drew a steadying breath, and let the words fall like weights. “We hope you will join Heavenly Sword Pavilion and the Five-Element Sect in forming an Anti-Demon Alliance to wipe out Malevolent Path Hall for good.”
Blaine’s pupils narrowed as silence pooled between them. At last, he dipped his chin in a single, granite nod. “Very well. Malevolent Path Hall butchered thousands of our kin; there can be no coexistence. Myriad Beast Valley will stand in this alliance,” Blaine said before turning his gaze toward Jared.
“However, Oswald from Heavenly Sword Pavilion is as stubborn as a mule, and Aurelian Metalhart of the Five-Element Sect is as sly as a fox… Convincing them to join the alliance will not be easy.”
Jared’s hand closed around his sword hilt. “No matter how difficult it is, I have to try.”
“In that case, rest here a few days, Jared,” Blaine said, the edge in his tone softening. “Allow us to repay your rescue before you set out.”
“Gladly…” Jared replied, offering a crisp nod. Back at Myriad Beast Valley’s Beastbone Hall, Blaine arranged a simple yet heartfelt feast. War or no war, the valley produced its treasured Hundred-Beast Blood Brew and spiritual fruit preserves. A crackling bonfire danced at the hall’s center, throwing restless light across solemn faces.
