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.
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