The King Of Warriors (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5701

A claw the size of a thunderhead—each talon forged from living runes—plunged downward toward Jared. Space itself buckled around the blow, contracting inwards as though the entire floor meant to grind the intruders into dust.

"Together!" Jared shouted.

He understood there could be no retreat; only by defeating the polluted spirit could they reach the tower heart and free everyone trapped within.

Steel met storm in the blink of an eye, and the battle erupted into a white-hot frenzy.

Drawing on the full might of the tower, the corrupted spirit fought with terrifying breadth. Spatial prisons, suppressive runic cages, raw waves of energy—each technique arrived fresh and merciless, every one devastating.

Jared, Cyanna, Coall, and the shapeshifter known as Thousand Faces had no choice but to fight as one. Their combined strength barely held the spirit's barrage at bay.

Jared pushed his sword intent, Five-Element nascence power, and the very Law of Time to their limits. Each arc of his Dragonslayer Sword carved luminous scars across the spirit's body, yet the creature's runic flesh closed almost as quickly as it opened.

Coall planted his massive frame in front. Scales flew, blood spattered the stones, but he did not yield a single stride.

Cyanna's Azure Dragon energy flowed like cool water, cleansing and disrupting the spirit's currents, slowing its next attack before it could fully form.

Thousand Faces shifted form with unsettling grace—one moment a bulwark of iron scales, the next a blur of feints that drew the spirit's aim away.

Even so, the spirit's power felt endless, and the quartet found themselves pushed back step after step.

Gashes opened across Jared's shoulders and ribs, soaking his tunic a deep crimson.

"We can't keep this up—at this pace we'll die here!" Coall spat, blood streaking his jaw. He staggered but refused to fall.

Jared's eyes hardened; the only path forward lay in risk.

My Golden Dragon Bloodline is the purest royal strain our race has ever known. If I pour that very nascence into the tower's ancient core, perhaps—just perhaps—I can seize control of the corrupted Tower Spirit. It is reckless. One misstep will shred my lineage forever, damning me to a fate worse than death. But the battlefield has left me no gentler path. The choice is ruin now, or ruin later. There is only forward.

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