The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5216

A clear metallic ring—sharp as flint striking steel—echoed as the claw struck the shield. Concentric ripples shimmered across the barrier. The impact hammered through Flaxseed’s arms, flipping his stomach and forcing him half a step backward. The attacker chuckled, cold and contemptuous. “A firefly dares rival the moon?” He pressed in, tripling the force behind his claw. Fractures spider-webbed across the once-pristine shield.

Before those cracks could burst, a golden arc of sword energy whistled in from above, as though a lone star had broken free of the heavens. The black-robed man jerked back, abandoning his assault to dodge the descending glow. Jared followed in that sword energy—Dragonslayer Sword stabbing and sweeping without pause—herding the other two assailants into the melee. “The one you want is me!” the leader snarled at last. A black whip materialized in his hand, writhing like a living serpent. Its barbs glimmered an eerie green—steeped in venom—and it lashed toward Jared’s face with a sound like tearing air.

Jared refused a direct block. He slipped sideways, his footwork light, almost casual, yet he seemed to become a phantom among the trees. His cloak flickered through branches as he dragged the limp, panting Flaxseed with his left hand and wielded the Dragonslayer Sword in his right. Every few paces he flicked his wrist, releasing a fan of golden energy that forced the whip-wielder to recoil. Behind them, the black-robed leader cracked his venomous whip again and again, transforming it now into a spitting viper, now into a coiling python—each strike cold enough to chill bone.

“Jared, leave me and run!” Flaxseed strained against Jared’s grip, voice ragged with guilt. “I’m nothing but dead weight—both of us will fall if you keep this up!”

“Shut it and breathe,” Jared snapped, never breaking stride as he threaded through clustered trunks and ducked a fresh swipe of the whip. “We walked into this together, so we leave together. Focus on mending your core, not on farewell speeches.”

Even as the words left him, two black shadows vaulted through the treetops, forcing a pincer. On the left, a bone blade riddled with tiny holes—reeking of rot—swept under Jared’s guard. On the right, arcane syllables poured from another assailant’s lips; the forest floor burst with black vines that snapped toward Jared’s and Flaxseed’s ankles like shackles. Blocked ahead, hunted from behind—one heartbeat from disaster.

Jared’s eyes flashed. He unleashed the entirety of his spiritual energy. The Dragonslayer Sword rang—a clear, soaring note—and a tide of gold sword energy fanned out, blasting vines and bone blade alike into splinters. “Now!” he shouted. Using that instant of vacancy, he gathered every muscle, vaulted skyward, and landed atop the broad crown of an ancient tree, Flaxseed clutched firmly beneath his arm, the world momentarily spread beneath their feet like a map of fleeing shadows.

The three figures in midnight cloaks seemed to pour out of the sky itself. Without a sound they landed upon the surrounding branches, every boot‐heel anchoring the growing ring tighter around the ancient tree where Jared and Flaxseed hid.

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