All across the clouds, other Draconian titans dove with thunderous roars. A Fire Dragon opened its jaws, exhaling a furnace blast so fierce that entire squads below became drifting ash.
A Lightning Dragon beckoned bolts the width of ancient pillars. White-blue ribbons crashed downward, flash-frying armor and flesh alike.
A Wind Dragon twisted the very air into howling cyclones that shredded robes and bodies. Beside it, a Water Dragon breathed spears of soul-freezing ice, turning fleeing shapes into brittle statues that shattered under their own weight.
This was no battle. It was a one-sided culling!
Under the crushing weight of Draconian power, Skyfiend disciples could not muster even a fraction of their usual strength.
Spells fizzled, treasured weapons glanced off scale and sinew, and desperation turned to panic. Screams, pleas, and the wet tear of rended flesh blended into a single, ceaseless dirge.
Before Nethergate Sect’s grand gates, the earth itself became a living butcher’s trough, rivers of blood running between severed limbs that still twitched in the dirt.
Gideon watched, eyes bulging until red veins burst. Yet even his fury gave him no shield. A few formidable Draconians circled him, their maws dripping heat and lightning. He parried, stumbled, parried again, each breath closer to ruin.
High above, Jared stood aloof. His gaze remained as cold as starlight on midwinter ice.
He lifted one palm. The Beast-Subduing Tower appeared in his hand, its stone tiers glowing with a muted, holy haze. Wayward soul fragments—half-formed wraiths trying to flee the slaughter—spiraled helplessly into the tower’s waiting maw and were sealed in silence.
Within mere moments, the once-boastful Skyfiend Sect lay crushed. Only Gideon survived, left intentionally alive, beaten to his knees by dragon pressure.
Detritus of battle smothered the ground: severed arms, shattered talismans, broken blades. Blood pooled in hot, steaming channels, the copper stench rising like a funeral pyre.
Disciples of Nethergate Sect watched from a distance, awe mixing with savage satisfaction and, toward Jared and his Draconian army, a deepening reverence that bordered on fear.
Jared walked forward, each step measured and unhurried, until he stood over the trembling form of Gideon.
“N-No… Do not kill me… Mr. Chance, have mercy…” Gideon’s voice broke into sobs, tears and mucus streaking the dirt on his face.
“Where is the Skyfiend Sect’s main stronghold?” Jared’s question carried no inflection, as though he inquired about the weather.
Gideon shuddered, eyes widening in dawning horror. “You… You intend to…”
“Answer.” Jared’s single word fell like frost, and the air itself seemed to chill around the syllable.
With death breathing down his neck, Gideon dared not hide a detail. Voice shaking, he revealed the precise location of the Skyfiend Headquarters and listed every line of defense he could recall.
“Good…” Jared inclined his head once, a gesture as final as any verdict. He turned and flicked his fingers toward Coall, the silent signal clear.
Coall understood at once. A savage grin peeled across his draconic muzzle as that obsidian claw came down like a thunderhead.
In a single blow, he ruptured Gideon’s elixir field, erasing his lifetime of cultivation while sparing the man’s trembling life.
Gideon collapsed, boneless, a heap of breath and terror on the blood-soaked ground.
“I’m letting you scuttle back alive,” Jared said, his voice rolling out of the shadows like winter surf. “Crawl to Elder Bonewick, and to that skulking Soul Devourer lurking behind him. Tell them to brace themselves and wait… Jared Chance is coming for their heads.”
He no longer spared a glance for the ruined cultivator. Turning, he addressed Rowena. “Rowena, the sect is yours to steady. Comfort the wounded, bury our dead, and double every line of defense.”
Rowena bowed so deeply her shoulders shook. “Rest easy, Mr. Chance. I will give every last drop of strength to the task.”
Jared shifted to Cyanna. “Cyanna, keep a cadre of healers and shield-bearers here. Stand with the Nethergate Sect’s wards. If any scavenger dares test us, I want them broken before sunset.”
Cyanna’s emerald hair fluttered as she gave a solemn nod. “Understood. Please be careful.”
Jared’s gaze swept the Draconian army—scales still slick with the gore of Nullrift Gorge—before settling on the battle-hungry cluster around Coall.
He drew in a breath that echoed like a war-horn. “All remaining Draconians! Fly with me! Our destination: Skyfiend Sect!”
A single wordless roar answered him, primal and vast. Dragon roars shook the heavens again, the sound splitting clouds and rattling mountain roots.
Jared’s figure blurred into a column of azure light and speared upward, streaking toward the vaulted sky. Hundreds of Draconians surged after him, an iron river arcing between earth and firmament, intent on grinding every obstacle to dust.
Their killing aura and dragon’s power ripped open the sky; clouds shredded, beasts burrowed, and even the wind held its breath.
