Jared was no saint. In this world, the border between good and evil blurred until only friend and foe remained. And, a foe must die.

Ararat understood. With a flick of his sleeve, sword energy shrieked through the dusk. The trembling Holy Light Sect disciples managed a single scream before the blades wrote crimson finality across their throats.

Ararat exhaled the lingering edge from his sword aura. “Mr. Chance, this place is no longer safe. Let’s return to Swordmaster City.”

Jared nodded. Questions thrummed inside him, all of them meant for Ararat. With a soft gesture, Ararat summoned a cushion of gentle force that lifted Jared, Flaxseed, and Corin into the air. The three became streaking starlight, racing toward the distant eastern skyline.

Behind them, the once-glorious Holy Light Sect no longer dwindled in sunset glow. Only ruins left. Jared glanced back, a storm of emotions knotting his chest.

From Venom Valley to the Holy Light Sect, danger had stalked every mile. Without Corin, Flaxseed, and Ararat’s timely arrival, would already be dust on the wind.

Vermilion Demon Lord, where are you?!