Jared managed a wry smile at the prospect. The path forward suddenly felt both brighter and far more expensive.
Feed a Fire Unicorn? I can barely marshal enough resources for my own ascension, let alone the Draconian army gulping them down like a desert drinks rain…*
Jared crouched. The chambers of the war-torn hall echoed as he stroked the creature’s warm, ember-speckled head.
“Little one, it isn’t that I don’t want you,” he murmured, voice husky with helpless affection. “We’re feeling the pinch too.”
The small Fire Unicorn seemed to understand. It let out a plaintive whimper, then licked the center of Jared’s palm, each lap a plea and a promise all at once.
With a soft sigh, the beast sprawled across his boots, eyes half-closed, announcing in stubborn silence that wherever Jared went, it would follow.
Jared’s resolve melted. He nudged its fiery horns. “Fine, stay at my side. We’ll find what you need on the road. One step at a time.”
Zevon adjusted the steel-rimmed spectacles on his angular face. “Mr. Chance, what is our next move?”
Every warrior in the room stiffened. They all knew one truth: the threat of Soul Devourer still loomed over the Ninefold Heaven realm like a shadow that refused to lift.
Jared rose, eyes igniting with fresh steel. “My strength is restored. We return to the Nether Blood Sea, pry that mangy cur from his hole, and finish this. Together—no duels, no pride, only decisive force.”
Heads dipped in grim agreement. Around them, battle lust coalesced like rolling thunder.
After a short respite, Jared, Sylvia, Neville, Zevon, Coall, Cyanna, and the smoldering little unicorn perched on Jared’s shoulder surged into the sky, an elite spearpoint aimed straight at the Nether Blood Sea.
Seasoned now, they pierced the sea’s viscous waves and descended into Soulgrave Abyss. But the realm felt hollow. The vast soul pressure once cast by Soul Devourer had vanished, the crimson heavens fading to a sickly rust.
The air still reeked of iron and grievance, yet without a master’s will, the aura drifted, scattered, confused.
Ahead, the throne of stacked skulls still towered, empty.
“Stay sharp, something’s off,” Neville warned, voice a serrated whisper as his spiritual sense combed every inch of tainted air.
Zevon pinched two fingers together, runes flickering between them.
After a tense breath, he exhaled. “No trace of his soul’s nascence remains. It appears… he has truly fled…”
A ghostly gleam ignited atop the vacant skull throne, coalescing into a hazy likeness of Soul Devourer; the room’s chill deepened as unfinished hatred took form.
What hovered in the shadows was no living being at all. It was merely a fragment of sentience, a phantom recording etched into the void, thin as smoke, yet sharp enough to slice through every startled breath in the cavern.
“Hehehe… I knew you’d come back with your men,” the echo rasped, the laugh curdling into mockery. “Too bad you are tragically late!”
“I have lounged here for several days, and even this splinter of me has healed. The shallow pond of Level Nine is no longer worthy of a true titan, so I have already soared to Level Ten. If you possess any courage, come find me at the Infinite Soul Demon Sect on Level Ten. If not, remain here and shiver until I return in my prime to swallow you, and this entire realm, in one glorious bite!”
The arrogant laughter rolled across the vast chasm of Soulgrave Abyss, then guttered out as the spectral image unraveled into fading motes of light.
Those gathered exchanged uneasy looks; color drained from more than one face.
None of them had expected Soul Devourer to be so ruthless, abandoning the lair he had cultivated for years and fleeing straight to Level Ten the instant danger closed in.
