Enaricus finally exhaled in relief. For a moment, he had imagined the palace’s famed Guardian to be an untouchable legend. Now, seeing the golden-armored man falter, he realized the threat had been smoke and mirrors all along.
Onneas, ruler of the Fourth Hall, felt her pulse spike. She shouted, a clear bell of a cry echoing between marble pillars. “Guardian, summon the other three Celestial Guards. Four as one can break Esorin, no matter how vicious his arts!”
The Guardian did not move. Metal plates groaned as he rose to his feet. His voice slipped out, low and grim. “Of the Quartet Celestial Guards, I alone have awakened.”
A hush fell. The admission struck like cold rain. Mouths sagged open. Even the braziers seemed to dim, as though the hall itself were startled.
Enaricus’ eyes sparked with wicked delight. Behind him, Percival and Esorin relaxed, confidence blooming like thorns. With no reinforcements coming, they could unleash themselves without restraint.
“So the so-called Guardian is nothing but a loser,” Esorin sneered, his words dripping poison. “Today, the Celestial Palace will pay in blood.”
He lunged, robes whipping behind him, a black tide aimed straight for the lone Guardian. One decisive blow, that was all he intended to need.
“Enough!” The single word rang out, carried on the rising whine of a sword. A silver flash parted the air. From the rent in space stepped a young man clad in travel-stained black, a crescent of steel singing at his back.
Only when the newcomer’s boots kissed the marble did the crowd know who it was.
Jared Chance!
“Jared Chance?!” several voices blurted at once, disbelief snagging on every syllable.
Onneas stared, speechless. She had seen Enaricus hurl Jared into a forbidden spatial tunnel, an endless snarl of chaotic void currents from which no one returned alive. For him to appear here, breathing and whole, felt like witnessing dawn rise at midnight.
Seeing Jared, Enaricus’ smug mask cracked. Panic flickered behind his eyes.
“H-How did you escape the void passage?” Enaricus demanded, voice shrill and thinning.
Percival leaned forward, curiosity gleaming like drawn steel. “Who is he?”
“Jared Chance,” Enaricus spat. “The meddler who ruined our plans and slaughtered Mr. Hemato!”
Percival’s gaze sharpened to a murderous point. “So this is the whelp, then…”
Jared ignored them. He turned to Onneas, voice softening. “Ms. Dusko, are you hurt?”
“I am unscathed,” she answered, astonishment still painting her face. “But how did you survive that tunnel?”
Jared offered a brief, calm smile. “When we settle the matter in front of us, I’ll explain everything.”
His smile vanished as he faced Enaricus. “You, a lord of the Celestial Palace, conspired with the Malevolent Path Hall and dragged our name through filth. Do you feel the weight of your crime?”
Enaricus barked a laugh. “And who are you to lecture me? Palace affairs are none of your concern, Jared Chance. Do you have a death wish?”
“Since you remain defiant,” Jared said, each word colder than winter steel, “I invoke Palace law and sentence you to death.”
He spoke the decree as though announcing dusk, simple, inevitable, irreversible.
Enaricus barked a booming laugh that rattled the rafters. “Hah! Did that swirling void tunnel fry your wits, kid? Someone of your measly rank thinks he can spit words like that at me?”
The laughter kept rolling, a low thunder tumbling down the marble colonnade, shaking stray motes of dust from the ceiling.
Not even Onneas had bested him before. Yet Jared, a man who had not even broken into the Human Immortal Realm, dared promise to end the mighty Enaricus here and now.
Percival narrowed his eyes, muttering through a crooked grin, “Damn, looks like I’ve finally run into someone who brags louder than I do.”
His voice dropped to a sneer, the words thick with grudging awe. From Percival’s vantage, Jared’s aura sat only at the very peak of the Earthly Immortal Realm, a full step below the Human Immortal Realm.
For a man at that stage to boast with such swagger felt, to them, like thunder without clouds, noise with no storm behind it.
Only Onneas knew the truth, Jared’s growth moved faster than any tale she had ever heard, faster, even, than arrows fired from the gods. In scarcely the blink of a season, he had climbed all the way to the summit of the Earthly Immortal Realm, rising as if strapped to a rocket of pure will.
She sensed, chillingly, that she herself might no longer stand as his equal.
“Enough chatter,” Jared said, his voice quiet yet slicing. “Why don’t the two of you attack together and save us time?”
He offered the suggestion with a single disdainful glance toward Percival, hardly worth a second look in Jared’s eyes. To Jared, the prince who could not defeat Onneas was little more than background noise.
Percival’s temper flared.
“The hell are you strutting for, hero?!” he spat, fists trembling. He lunged, only to be snatched back by Enaricus’ iron forearm before a single blow could land.
“Leave the peacocking pup to me, Prince Percival,” Enaricus declared, his smile as sharp as drawn steel. Having spoken, Enaricus leveled an icy stare at Jared.
“Come!” he beckoned, voice low as grinding granite.
