A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5296

Flaxseed accepted the emerald badge with trembling fingers, and tears he had sworn off years ago slid helplessly down his cheeks. “Y-Yes... It's the ancestral talisman,” he choked out.

The three of them scoured Venom Palace, unearthing troves of magical items looted during the massacre. Most pieces bore the Flaxseed clan's seal, and Flaxseed gathered each one as though handling rare treasures.

Jared looked past the dissipating toxic mist outside the broken windows. “Next, we visit the Holy Light Sect,” he said, voice sharp as frost. “None who joined that purge will escape.”

Holy Light Sect occupied the western edge of level five, where the Holy Light Plains were bathed year-round in golden radiance. Palaces of polished white jade floated among the clouds, shining like something torn from a child's myth.

Yet, only a handful knew how many filthy secrets lay buried beneath that holy façade.

Jared, Flaxseed, and Corin streaked across the sky, descending as three ribbons of light before the sect's main gate.

The sentry, a disciple clad in immaculate white robes and gripping a silver longsword, stepped forward. “State your names and present your invitation,” he commanded.

Flaxseed advanced a single step, gaze cold. “Summon your sect leader. Tell him the last heir of the Flaxseed clan has come to collect a blood debt.”

The disciple's face blanched. “You reckless fool! How dare you spew such lies before the Holy Light Sect!”

Light exploded along his blade as he lunged, thrusting for Flaxseed's chest.

Before the strike landed, Jared flicked a finger. A hair-thin strand of marked aura shot forth and struck the sword mid-air.

Jared stepped forward, marked aura roaring free. The golden haze that wreath­ed the courtyard peeled away as if a gale had knifed through silk. “The ones sick of life are you lightsworn hypocrites. Centuries ago, you joined Venom Valley and Malevolent Path Hall to wipe out the Flaxseed clan. I am here to collect that debt—today.”

A flicker of discomfort crossed Seamus' face, yet his tone resurfaced calm—sharpened by feigned grief. “You twist history. The Flaxseed clan practiced Demonic Cultivation that butchered innocents. As a righteous order, we acted for heaven's justice.”

Flaxseed barked a laugh so raw it scraped the cold stone. “Heaven's justice? My family healed generations, wandering physicians with nothing but remedies and goodwill. You coveted our Encyclopedia of Herbs, spun a lie, and murdered us to the last child. Justice? Rot.”

“Utter nonsense!” A feral light flashed behind Seamus' cultured smile. “You are lost to wickedness. I shall cleanse you in heaven's name.”

Golden light surged outward, condensing into a longsword etched with runes that flickered like caged lightning. Its pressure alone made the air groan. “Holy Light Sword Art—First Form: Holy Blessing!”