Aurelius, Thastrum, and several others approached in a loose semicircle, bowing with hands folded in respect, admiration clear on every face. Aurelius’s voice trembled with elation. “Mr. Chance, thank you for pulling us back from the cliff’s edge!”
Thastrum reined in his earlier pride and offered a frank nod. “Your strength eclipses mine by more than a step. I concede utterly!”
Jared waved them off, then lifted his gaze to the demon host. His words rang out, bold and cutting. “Soul Devourer, is this the champion you bragged about? If you’ve anyone stronger, send them. Don’t bother hiding behind empty boasts.”
A hush swept through the demon ranks. The ones who had bellowed threats now stared at their boots, not one daring to answer.
Oronin had been the sharpest spear of their youth. If even lay broken, who among them could hope to stand?
Soul Devourer’s face darkened to the color of storm clouds. Murderous intent swirled in his hollow sockets, yet, for the moment, could do nothing at all.
Aurelius sensed the ugly truth long before anyone voiced it. Sending another challenger now would not be bravery, it would be volunteering for public disgrace, a fresh offering to the slaughter that Jared had prepared.
Jared’s mouth curved into a cold, razor-thin grin, as though took genuine pleasure in their silence. “What’s wrong? No one left with a bit of backbone? Where’s all that swagger you were spraying around a moment ago?”
He stepped forward, boots cracking the stone like distant thunder. Twin halos, one gold, one the color of ghost-ash, burst from his skin and rolled outward in a crushing tide, blanketing the demon cultists in a weight that sucked the breath from their lungs.
“If none of you dares answer, pack up what’s left of your pride and crawl out of level six. I’m tired of watching you make fools of yourselves.”
Panicked, the demon ranks recoiled, their faces drained of both color and courage.
“You’ve lost. Leave… While you still can.” Aurelius turned, his eyes locking on the black-armored figure who ruled those demons like a living plague, Soul Devourer.
“Leave?” Soul Devourer echoed, the single word dripping with contempt. A vicious half-smile carved across his face. “You think you can dismiss me that easily? Not a chance!”
His sleeve snapped through the air like a whip. “Demonic Soul Army! Kill! Tear the Ritual Manual from their corpses!”
Ten thousand demonic souls shrieked in unison. Black mist exploded around them, surging forward like a tidal bore let loose from hell itself.
Some swung bone-white sabers that dripped rancid blood-fog. Others gnashed charcoal fangs while hate-soaked soul-threads coiled around their torsos.
Still more flattened into half-seen shadows, slipping through ranks with predatory grace. So dense were they that daylight vanished; the vault of heaven sank into ink.
“Soul Devourer, you gave your word!” Aurelius roared, every muscle trembling with fury. “A lord of demons who spits on his own promises, do you crave the mockery of every cultivator under the sky?”
Soul Devourer barked a laugh, harsh as steel on slate. “Promises? Trinkets for fools. The Ritual Manual is worth more than any reputation. I want dominion over level six, not a pretty legend!”
He slapped the mane of the colossal lion beneath him. The beast answered with a canyon-splitting roar and bolted forward, claws shredding earth as it charged the defenders.
“Rylan!” Aurelius shouted, voice raw. “Form the line! Even if we die here, level six does not fall!”
“By your command!” Rylan dropped to one knee, iron plates rang like bells. A heartbeat later, sprang upright, sword of black steel flashing.
“Imperial Guard! Form ranks! Advance! Kill!”
“Kill!” The cry of ten thousand warriors hammered the cliffs, shaking boulders from their perches.
Encased in mithril armor, spear and blade in hand, the Imperial Guard snapped into a flawless phalanx, shields braced up front, spears bristling behind, sabers guarding the flanks, an iron wall surging toward the oncoming night.
“For level six! Charge!”
Human cultivators and beastfolk alike raised their weapons, roared their oaths, and flooded in behind the Imperial Guard, a living wave racing to meet the storm.
