The King Of Warriors (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5702

"Sir—" The single syllable left Jared's cracked lips like a plea whispered through dust-dry lungs.

Relief flared, then fled. His chest caved inward, knees turning to water, and the world pitched. The breath he forced out carried flecks of bright blood—royal lifeblood he had burned without hesitation—leaving his body hollow, spent, trembling on the edge of collapse.

"You have done wonderfully," the Tower Spirit said, his timbre deep and gentle, as if every word were a hand steadying Jared's faltering soul.

A current—pure, verdant, unmistakably alive—surged from the phantom's upraised palm. It poured through Jared's veins, knitting shredded flesh, stitching torn meridians, filling the hollows that pain had carved inside him with liquid sunrise.

"The wretch sealed on the upper level spent centuries corroding my mind, hoping to seize the tower and drain every drop of Draconian strength to break free. Had you not come, had your Golden Dragon Bloodline not awakened me, all would be lost." The old phantom's eyes burned with renewed clarity as he spoke.

With the true Tower Spirit awake, every berserk ward within the Beast-Subduing Tower fell silent. Snaking black energy that had haunted each tier thinned, then vanished like smoke in a gale.

Far below, Cyanna and Coall straightened. The crushing force that had gnawed at their bones dissolved, leaving only stunned relief ringing in their chests.

"Now," the Tower Spirit murmured, resolve sharpening each syllable, "we finish what was begun above."

A hard glint lit his gaze. "Child, follow me to the tower heart. To quell this upheaval and claim full command of the tower, I will need every spark of your strength."

Silver-white light unfurled from the spirit, enclosing Jared like the petals of a moonlit blossom. Light closed over them, and the world folded. The next heartbeat found them standing inside a boundless void whose borders shimmered with wheeling constellations and silver threads of space itself.

At the center hovered a crystal heart, forever shifting form, shedding rolling coronas of colorful radiance. It was the Beast-Subduing Tower Core: the very font of spatial nascence.

"Place your hand upon the tower heart and pour in your Golden Dragon Bloodline and divine soul imprint," the spirit directed, voice low with ceremonial weight.

"Whether it accepts you depends on fate. Beware—its power can sunder flesh and spirit alike if you falter." The warning echoed like distant thunder across the star-bright void.

Jared's stare never wavered. Determination glinted in weary eyes that refused to yield even to exhaustion's pull.

Step by measured step, he approached it, drew one breath to steady the quake of his heart, and pressed his palm against its prismatic surface.

A detonation—greater than any thunder—shook creation's bones.

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