The Sinful Young Master

In the past, Lodawg had molested Maena. It happened when she was drunk, and at that time, she wasn't strong enough to hold against him, but when Caelum heard about it, he beat the stars out of Lodawg, to the point of killing him. But Segarus stepped in and saved his brother; from then on, Lodawg wasn't allowed into the Kaezhlar clan.

Maena sprints towards Lodawg, with her sword in hand. She was no longer the girl she was back then, and she was certainly capable enough to hold her own against him now.

Lodawg chuckled and ordered his men to attack the rest of the family while he was ready to take on Maena.

One of the mages was coming towards Jolthar, and while running towards him, he chanted a spell forming an ice spear, and he threw it at Jolthar.

It all happened so fast; Jolthar, who was watching Maena, suddenly turned to the mage.

The spear was so fast that Jolthar had barely reacted, catching it with his bare hands. He turned to the mage and saw others were also coming. He looked at the two titans fighting above and towards the mages who surrounded them. He understood that Naemarys's clan was going all in today; no matter what, they didn't want to let anyone from the Kaezhlar clan leave alive from here.

These red mages weren't simple, and their coordinated attacks could even stop a top-tier expert, killing him in seconds. Jolthar could see that. He could see the mana lines, linked to one another. The mage who struck Jolthar stopped in his tracks. He thought Jolthar was just an ordinary swordsman, so he would kill himself and go after the family, but suddenly he could feel it.

Jolthar stepped forward, his aura flaring to life. It was a deep, menacing energy that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone nearby. Jolthar's presence alone seemed to halt the advance of the red-robed mages as they turned their attention to him, sensing the threat he posed.

Elowen, Johamma, and others suddenly looked down towards where Jolthar was present. They could feel his aura, flaring up like a tempest.

Suddenly, a sword materialized in Jolthar's hand—it was Horgath, the Chaosbane.

The blade seemed to pulse with a dark, malevolent sentience, emanating an energy, similar to aura but it wasn't aura, that burned with the intensity of an ancient overlord, sweeping across the land, commanding respect, and instilling fear in all who beheld it.

It was chaos aura.

The moment Jolthar grasped the blade, the chaos aura burst forth; it was as if the aura had been locked away for an eternity, chained in the depths of oblivion, only to erupt now with the force of a long-dormant volcano, spewing its power in a torrent that defied containment. It expanded outward, vast and monumental, like the shadow of an ancient overlord reclaiming dominion over the land. The sheer weight of his presence was oppressive, suffocating, compelling every living soul to halt and turn their gaze toward him.
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Even Jolthar, stunned by the sudden surge within him, could only stare at his own hand, as though it no longer belonged to him. He had wielded the sword for years, but never had it behaved in such a manner. The Chaosbane was known to be powerful, with a consciousness all its own, but what it was doing now made it clear that he had barely scratched the surface of its true potential. The very air around him crackled with fury, a force that threatened to devour him from the inside out.

The chaotic aura surged through his veins, like a wildfire, rampant and uncontrollable. It raged through his body, searing and scorching every inch of his being, and Jolthar could feel his very essence beginning to burn away. The sheer magnitude of the power was overwhelming, and yet something held him together. It was the rejuvenation of his body, a gift from some unseen force, that kept him from being torn apart.

The chaos was unrelenting, and the aura pulsed with a mind of its own, swelling in intensity. It was like a beast that had been caged for centuries, now freed and hungry for destruction. The ground trembled beneath Jolthar's feet as the aura exploded outward, its power sweeping over the land in violent waves, making the very air seem thick and heavy.

Jolthar gritted his teeth, desperately trying to maintain his grip on the sword. He tightened his hand around the hilt, but it felt like the sword was pulling him in, pulling him towards something darker, more primal.

The earth beneath him cracked, splintering under the weight of the chaos energy. The roar of the energy echoed in his ears, a ferocious growl like that of a caged beast, causing the very ground to shake in response to its power.

Then, from the swirling darkness of the chaos energy, a shadow began to take form. It rose above him, colossal in size, its presence so overwhelming that everything around it seemed to shrink.

The shadow was vaguely humanoid, but its features were obscured by the storm of raw energy. Jolthar felt the weight of its presence, and for the first time in his life, he felt small and insignificant.

He struggled to control the power within him, but it felt as though the sword was eating him alive, consuming him from the inside out.

The spirit of the sword—its fury—was unrelenting. It didn't care about Jolthar, not anymore. Even when he had practised the sword techniques, the Chaosbane had always been steady, always in harmony with him. But now… now something had triggered it, something Jolthar couldn't comprehend.

He tried to focus, to reach for control, but the power was slipping through his fingers like sand. His breaths came in ragged gasps as the pressure of the shadow weighed heavily upon him, suffocating him.

Despite the growing sense of dread and helplessness, Jolthar forced himself to look up.