He knew one touch of that attack would crush every bone in his body, and his limbs were leaden, dodging was no longer possible. Jared could only watch as the radiant spear of light barreled toward him, unstoppable as sunrise.
At that desperate instant, the draconic essence hanging over his chest flickered, pulsing like a heartbeat of molten amber.
Jared inhaled sharply, channeling the crystal’s surge. His battered sword erupted in blinding brilliance, turning night to noon within the gorge.
“You picked the wrong day to bury me!” he bellowed, swinging the blade in a furious arc that cleaved straight into the incoming radiance.
Boom!
Sword light and golden judgment collided once more, their impact tearing a crater into the canyon floor while thunder rolled between the cliffs.
The blow slammed into Jared like a runaway meteor. His body arced backward through the smoky air before crashing onto the rubble-strewn ground. The impact split fresh wounds wide open. Hot blood gushed over his lips in thick, metallic bursts while pain hammered every bone.
Across the fractured courtyard, Winston skidded several steps back. The golden glow around his palms flickered as shock broke across his handsome, ruthless face.
He had not expected Jared, already battered nearly beyond recognition, to survive that strike, let alone block it.
“Impressive willpower for a dying man, brat,” Winston said, his voice low and ringing with predatory amusement. “But will alone is never enough!”
Having said that, he formed another flurry of hand seals. Golden spears of light burst from his fingertips, multiplying into a storm of radiant darts that screamed across the courtyard toward Jared’s prone body.
Jared lay flat against the cracked flagstones, lungs burning, limbs refusing to move. He no longer had the strength left to dodge the incoming attack.
He could only watch while the oncoming barrage filled his vision with blinding gold, each bolt promising to snuff the last spark of life still clinging inside him.
A sudden rush of wind cut through the courtyard.
Right then, Sylvia landed beside him, silver hair whipping around a face drained of color the moment she saw the carnage. Terror and resolve flared together in her eyes when she witnessed the sight before her.
“Mr. Chance!” she cried, voice cracking as she thrust both hands forward. “Hold on, I’m here!”
Sylvia performed a series of hand seals. A translucent shield of pure celestial power unfurled before Jared like a blossoming iris, blocking those attacks.
Boom!
The golden spears slammed into the barrier with thunderous booms. Shockwaves rattled shattered columns and sent debris spraying.
Hairline fractures spider-webbed across the shield, yet Sylvia gritted her teeth until the final bolt fizzled against the cracking wall. The barrier, though quivering, held.
“Ms. Vale, why did you come back?!” Jared gasped, blood trailing down his chin.
“I refuse to leave you here.” Her reply was fierce, immediate. “We face this together, or not at all!”
“But there are too many of them,” Jared wheezed. “We can’t beat an army!”
“Maybe not,” she said, eyes glinting with stubborn fire, “Yet surrender is not an option. We’ll find a way, no matter the cost!”
Winston‘s smile curdled into a snarl as he studied Sylvia’s defiant stance. “So, Lady Vale, you’ve chosen death beside him. Fine, no mercy.”
His arm swept upward as he commanded. “All of you, now!”
Morcant and the other elders of the Malevolent Path Hall surged forward alongside Winston. Blades, spells, and crackling chains of energy converged into a murderous tidal wave, roaring toward the pair.
Jared and Sylvia darted through the maelstrom, but the curtain of attacks was too dense. Blasts carved through flesh, tore fabric, and painted their clothes a deeper red with every desperate step.
Each breath grew shorter, their movements slower, strength draining away like water through shattered stone.
They stumbled back-to-back, wobbling beneath the storm of power, both knowing that the next heartbeat might be their last.
Without warning, a terrible pressure swept across the ruined clearing. It pressed on lungs, bent tree trunks, and made loose stones skitter as though the ground itself had grown afraid. The force of it dwarfed even Winston’s aura.
Winston, Morcant, and the other elders stiffened, color draining from their faces.
They all understood at once. Someone far stronger than any of them had stepped onto the field.
Winston drew a sharp breath. “Who dares?!”
A single figure strode through the settling dust, his pace calm yet unhurried, as if the storm of power belonged to him alone.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man in an ivory scholar’s robe. Gentle folds of fabric swayed around him, but the aura that clung to his frame crackled with silent might.
Winston narrowed his eyes. “Identify yourself!”
The newcomer ignored Winston completely and crossed the courtyard in three easy steps, stopping only when he stood before Jared, who lay bruised beside Sylvia.
“Mr. Chance, are you hurt?” the man asked, voice low and steady.
Recognition lit Jared’s battered face.
“Mr. Swanson?” His relief burst out as a ragged laugh. “I can’t believe it’s you!”
The newcomer was Zevon Swanson, the man Jared had rescued at Ethereal Realm‘s Celestial Stairway.
Had it not been for Jared’s intervention, Zevon would have remained there forever, servant to the golden immortal.
Zevon lifted one hand. A warm river of spiritual power flowed from his palm, coating Jared and Sylvia in shimmering light.
Torn flesh knit, broken bones straightened, and breath returned to lungs that had been seconds from failing.
